Guilty As Sin

by March, Meghan

  My cousin hops out of her seat. “Yes! I’m not leaving without a red piece.”

  They head down in the direction that Lincoln and I walked earlier.

  “You heard her,” I tell him. “We’d better find her some red glass, or she’ll literally camp out here until she finds it.”

  He helps me out of my chair. “I wish I would’ve thought of camping supplies. Next time.”

  “Next time, huh?”

  Lincoln lowers our clasped hands until my body presses against his. His lips skim across mine in a perfect kiss. “I’ve got ten years of dates to make up for. I’m just getting started, Blue.”

  I could definitely get used to this.

  42

  Lincoln

  As the remnants of the sunset fade, we roast marshmallows over a bonfire and make s’mores, which turns out to be another right choice. It’s simple, easy, and fun, which is exactly how I want to end the night.

  Well, this part of it, anyway. When we get back to The Gables, I plan on spending hours making Whitney scream my name as she comes. This is the new beginning we should have had before, and nothing is going to stop me from making it perfect.

  When we finally leave the beach, I have exactly one piece of glass. A bright blue one, the same color as Whitney’s eyes. Whitney has a rainbow, and Cricket has Hunter’s pockets bulging—including the red piece that it took all four of us looking for until the sun went down. I wouldn’t have complained if it took all night, though.

  Anything for more time with Whitney when she’s smiling and laughing and happy. It’s everything I wanted to give her.

  The flight back to The Gables seems much too short, and the familiar cliffs are in sight when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  I pull it out to read the text.

  McKinley: Mom knows about the Rango estate. She’s on her way to the resort.

  “Fuck.”

  Everyone in the helicopter turns to look at me, and I realize I spoke into the headset.

  “What’s wrong?” Whitney’s posture stiffens, which pisses me off even more because reality is the last thing I wanted to intrude on our evening.

  And now hell is about to be unleashed because my mother has learned that Ricky Rango’s estate is claiming he was my father’s son.

  Thank God there’s no way she could know that he might be my father’s only legitimate son . . . I lock that thought away because there’s no way in hell I’m going to share the possibility.

  “My mother found out about the paternity claim. We’ve been keeping it from her.”

  “Shit,” Cricket whispers. “Only Ricky Rango could fuck things up this effectively from the grave. That takes some serious skill. If he were still alive, I’d kill him myself.”

  Cricket isn’t the only one with that thought.

  Whitney’s hand squeezes mine, her eyes full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I wish this wasn’t happening.”

  “It’s not your fault. You literally had nothing to do with this at all. My father got my family into this mess.”

  As soon as I mention my father, she looks away, and I wish I hadn’t. Because he fucked up all our lives.

  We’re all silent as the chopper finally touches down on the rooftop helipad at the resort. I thank the pilot before climbing out and helping Whitney. Hunter and Cricket follow us down the stairs that will take us back to the VIP floor.

  As soon as I open the door to exit the stairwell, my mother spots us and marches toward me, a militant glint in her eye.

  “We’re gonna go,” Hunter says. “Thank you, man.”

  I give him a nod. “Sorry about this.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  He and Cricket turn and walk down the hall toward my mother. But she doesn’t spare them a glance as she stalks toward me, fire and fury in her every step.

  She points her finger at Whitney. “You put him up to this, you little whore, didn’t you?”

  I pull Whitney against my side, wanting to protect her from my mother’s rage. “She didn’t know anything about it.”

  My mother’s gaze cuts to mine. “She’s a liar! They’re all liars! Every single one of those Gable whores.”

  “Mother—” I attempt to interrupt, but she’s on a roll.

  “Why else would she have married that Rango boy? You don’t think I see how this all went down? She knew his dirty secret, and she couldn’t get the Riscoff money through you, so she went after the next best thing. She knew!”

  Whitney sputters beside me, but I’m not going to make her defend herself. Not now and never again. I don’t care that the accuser is my own mother.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. She could have had every single cent through me, Mother. She didn’t need to marry him to get anything.”

  My mother gasps and slaps a hand to her chest, but I know if the revelation about the paternity suit didn’t trigger an episode, this one is bullshit.

  “Don’t try to pretend it’s your heart. I’m not falling for it this time.”

  Her face screws up into a pissed-off glare. “How dare you say I’m pretending!”

  “You’ve been using your heart condition to manipulate us for years. It’s not going to work anymore.”

  She gasps. “See! She’s turning you against me. That’s exactly what she wants. She wants to drive a wedge into the heart of this family and tear us apart.”

  Whitney sucks in a breath, and I press her tighter to my side. “No, Mother. You’ve managed to do that all by yourself.”

  My mother’s eyes narrow. “It’s time to choose. Her, or your family.” Her gaze cuts to Whitney. “I hope you’re happy about what you’ve done. You couldn’t stay away. You had to tear us all apart, just like your mother.”

  Whitney tries to pull away from me, but I keep my arm locked around her. I’m not letting her go again.

  “You want me to choose, Mother? I will.”

  43

  Whitney

  Mrs. Riscoff’s words are shredding my soul. Somehow, I knew it would come to this. I knew she would make it an either-or situation. She could never let Lincoln and me be together.

  I can’t let him choose between us. I can’t be the reason a family is torn apart. My mother already did that, and I refuse to do the same.

  “Stop. Both of you.” I jerk away from Lincoln’s side so I can turn and see his face.

  “Whitney.”

  “No, just listen to me for a minute.” I hate how my voice shakes, but that doesn’t stop me from saying what I need to say. “You only get one mother. Maybe you don’t appreciate her now, and maybe you have differences, but you only get one.” Tears fill my eyes. “I would do anything to have another day with my mom. Anything. I didn’t realize how important she was before I lost her, and I won’t let you do this. I won’t be the one who comes between you.”

  “Blue—”

  Lincoln’s brow creases with the same pain that’s tearing me apart, but I know I’m doing the right thing. There is no other alternative.

  “No. I won’t let you choose between us, Lincoln. I can’t be responsible for that decision.”

  I shake my head as tears track down my face. I was doing so great at being positive and looking at the future with hope, but I should have known better. That’s not how things work for me.

  I swallow, finding the strength to say this last part, and meet Lincoln’s anguished hazel gaze. “I’ll leave before I’ll let you choose. I never should have come back. All I’ve done is cause pain for the people I care about. I’m done. I’m gone.”

  “Whitney, no. You can’t—” He reaches out to grasp my wrist, but I snatch it back.

  “I’m sorry. You should take your mom home. Spend time with your family. That’s what matters. Not me.”

  He reaches for me again, but I shake off his hold and turn to walk away, trying to keep my head high as my tears fall faster and faster. Lincoln calls out my name and I break into a run, not stopping until I’m in my room with both doors locked. />
  I drop onto the sofa and curl into a ball. I knew I shouldn’t have come back to Gable. I knew I shouldn’t have ever looked at Lincoln Riscoff again. I knew I shouldn’t let myself imagine any kind of happily ever after. All I’ve done is destroy more lives.

  But I’m done with that. I’m done with all of it.

  44

  Lincoln

  As I stare in the direction Whitney ran, my heart cracks open in my chest.

  “You have your answer. She doesn’t want you, Lincoln. She’s never actually wanted you. It’s always been about what you could do for her.”

  I whip around to face my mother. “You don’t know that.”

  “Then why did she marry that boy? Because she knew he was the heir, and she thought he’d inherit everything. She never loved you. She never wanted you. If she did, she would’ve walked away from him and stayed with you, even if it meant you got nothing. But she didn’t. Those Gable whores only want the man that comes with the money. Why do you think she came back now?”

  My mother’s poisonous words seep into the part of me that always wondered how Whitney could have walked down the aisle to another man if she loved me.

  “Are you willing to throw away your family for someone like that?”

  With every jab, my mother thinks she’s turning me to her way of thinking, but all she’s doing is making me question her.

  “What do you mean she would’ve stayed, even though she knew it would mean I inherited nothing if I chose her?”

  My mother lifts her chin but doesn’t answer.

  “You got to her then years ago, didn’t you? What did you say to her, Mother?”

  Her jaw tightens, and I know my suspicions are right. My mother did something to push Whitney down the aisle to Rango, and I need to know exactly what the hell she did.

  “Mother, you’ll answer my question, or I’ll make sure Commodore cuts you off without a dime.”

  Instead of replying, my mother turns on her heel and stalks down the hall.

  Oh, fuck no. I’m going to get my answers.

  But first—I need to talk to Whitney.

  45

  Whitney

  The past

  Cricket wouldn’t take no for an answer this time. She was determined to get me out of the house and back into the land of the living. Finally, she resorted to playing dirty—she bribed me with passion-fruit gelato from Tutti Frutti, and the fact that the owner told her she was almost out and wouldn’t be making more for months.

  I didn’t even know what passion fruit actually looked like, but the gelato was pretty much the best thing I’d ever tasted in my entire life.

  “Can’t you bring some home to me?”

  “It’ll start melting, and then I’ll have to lick up the drips, and before you know it, the whole thing will be in my belly.”

  I narrowed my gaze at my cousin. “And why can’t you get it in a cup so it’s not a big deal if it drips?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not bringing it to you. You have to leave the house. You’re starting to blend into the furniture, and it’s not healthy. Go take a shower. Wash your ass, put on some clean clothes, and at least pretend you’re still a functioning human being. You never know what’ll happen—you might actually start functioning again.”

  The cracked pieces inside me threatened to shatter. Over gelato.

  “I just buried both of my parents. Can’t you bring me some freaking ice cream?” My voice rose until it was nearly a shriek at the end.

  Cricket rushed toward me and wrapped me in a hug. “Jesus. Finally. Scream at me. Yell at me. Do something other than sit there like a mute.”

  Tears streaked down my face as my shoulders shook. “Why?”

  “Because you’re trying to bury yourself with them, and I can’t let you do that.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry, Whit. I don’t want to make you cry, but I need you to stop staring through me like I’m not even here. I just want my cousin back, even if it’s just a little. I need you to try to live again.”

  I knew what Cricket was doing, and I couldn’t hate her for it. I let my tears soak her shoulder. But it was her sniffles and the tears sliding down her cheeks that made my decision easy.

  “Fine. You win. I’ll take a shower, and we can go get gelato.”

  She pulled back, blinking her bloodshot eyes. “Thank you, Whit. I know you won’t regret it.”

  I hoped she was right.

  * * *

  An hour later, Cricket and I were in Aunt Jackie’s car heading downtown.

  We parked on the street and climbed out. She didn’t lie to me about the gelato, because I could see the owner waving and pointing at it through the front window of Tutti Frutti as soon as she caught sight of us.

  Once I had a cone in hand, Cricket and I walked outside and wandered down Bridge Street toward the city square where there were benches in an area near all the little shops that seemed to be springing up one after another.

  “Oh, do you see that dress? How cute is that?” She pointed at a blousy off-the-shoulder dress in the window. It was definitely her style.

  “Super cute,” I said, finding it easier than I’d expected to fall back into our old patterns.

  “I’m going to go try it on. Want to come?”

  “I think I’ll wait out here. I’m enjoying the sunshine.”

  Cricket smiled. “You need some vitamin D. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  I parked myself on a bench, determined to enjoy my cone and the sweet-tart taste of the passion fruit and ignore everything, including my own grief, for a little while.

  I’d made it a whole five minutes before someone cast a shadow over me.

  “You sit there like you don’t have a care in the world. Disgraceful.”

  I jerked my head toward the voice coming from beside me and cringed.

  Sylvia Riscoff.

  The last time I’d seen her, she was screaming at me in the emergency room, and that wasn’t a moment I wanted to repeat.

  I stood and spun around to walk the other way.

  “Don’t you turn your back on me, girl. You better listen to what I have to say, because I promise you’re going to want to hear it.”

  There was literally nothing I wanted to hear that Sylvia Riscoff could have to say, but that didn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder at her. She glared at me, her mouth pinched and brows drawn together.

  “That’s right. Stop and listen. Because you need to realize that if my son tries to choose you over his family, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life.”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about, and I didn’t want to know. I turned and took a step, but she kept talking.

  “If he tries to run away with you, his grandfather will cut him off without a dime. He’ll lose everything.”

  I stopped again and turned toward her, still saying nothing. But Sylvia Riscoff didn’t need me to speak. She had plenty to say herself.

  “You can tell me you don’t care. Pretend that you love him, but we both know the truth. His money is the only thing you care about, and if he turns his back on his family to be with a Gable, it will all be gone. His birthright will be stripped away. Everything he’s been groomed for his entire life. His very identity will be forfeit.”

  The vehemence in her tone took me by surprise, and I stumbled back a step.

  “Your mother already killed his father. Only a selfish little whore would take everything else away from him too.”

  My stomach twisted into a knot as Mrs. Riscoff lifted her chin, stared at me for another moment, and then turned and strode away. She was done with me.

  As I watched her disappear around the corner, my mind raced.

  Lincoln knows he’ll lose everything if he chooses me, but he still keeps coming.

  I blinked twice, and gelato dripped onto my fingers as a shocking thought occurred to me.

  He must love me like crazy if he’s willing to give it all up.

  46


  Lincoln

  Present day

  Whitney won’t answer her door or her phone, and she locked the interior door between our rooms. My next choice is either to break in or have someone stand outside her door so she can’t leave the hotel without me knowing.

  I meant what I said before. I’m not going to lose her again. She needs to know that there is no choice to be made. I already chose her—years ago—and I’ve never given up.

  I’m seconds from kicking in her door when my phone vibrates in my hands, but it’s not Whitney.

  It’s my sister.

  “What now?”

  “Mother is causing a scene in the lobby, and I’m still ten minutes away. Everyone is afraid to approach her. Please get her out of there.”

  “Now is not a good time, McKinley.”

  “It’s never a good time to deal with her, but someone has to do it.”

  “Fuck. Fine. But I’m stealing one of your employees to sit on the VIP floor. Whitney’s a flight risk, and I’m not letting that happen.”

  “Do whatever you need to do, just get to the damn lobby and handle her.”

  I hang up with my sister and jog down the hall to the bar. After I relieve the bartender of his duties and give him explicit instructions, I head for the elevator.

  When I reach the lobby, a crowd has gathered in the atrium area where my mother is spouting off about the Gable whores to anyone who will listen.

  She has officially lost her goddamned mind. My mother, the queen of never air your dirty laundry, is enraged enough to forget every single thing she’s ever drilled into me.