Destroying Everleigh (Destroying Everleigh #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Everleigh

Katy Perry - The One That Got Away

M y hand trembled as I worked to apply my eyeliner. My dark brown eyes peered back at me through the reflection of our bathroom mirror. Streaks fogged the glass, taunting me, telling me that no matter how hard I tried, they wouldn’t disappear. Everything was screwed up, all blown to hell. Even the simplest of things didn’t work out in my favor. There were too many things and not enough hours in a day to accomplish them.

It wasn’t enough that I had college, work, soccer—which was the reason I could attend school in the first place—I was also responsible for cooking and taking care of my sick mother. On top of everything else, I had to clean the house, which was bordering on impossible with three younger siblings who had to be taken to and from school, along with doctor appointments and sports. My sister, Briley, was eighteen now, and helped when she could, but I didn’t want that strain on her. Still, it took some of the weight off my shoulders.

My eyes narrowed on the streaks that were taking up a good portion of the glass, my fingers twitching with the urge to grab that bottle of Windex off the cluttered counter and try my hardest to get it out. But there was no time for that. It was my first day of sophomore year at Northbrook University.

So, instead, I twisted the cap back on my eyeliner and placed it in my worn-out makeup bag before swiping on a thin coat of cherry lip gloss, throwing my black hair into a high ponytail, and slipping out into the narrow hallway.

I made my way back into my room—the one I shared with Briley and peered inside. She had her back to me, checking out her non-existent curves in the plastic mirror that was propped against the wall. I’d gotten it on sale for five dollars last year, and just like the mirror in the bathroom, it wasn’t in good condition either. Her hair, black like mine, barely brushed against the back of her shoulders, her blue shirt clinging to her narrow waist due to the lack of sustenance we’d been putting into our bodies throughout the years.

I was excited for her, though. She managed to finish high school early and would be starting her first day at NU this year alongside me.

“Are you almost ready?” I asked, glancing at the watch on my wrist. It wasn’t anything special. Something I’d scored at an antique shop, but it worked well when I couldn’t have my phone. Like at the diner for example, or during lectures. “We have to drop off Tate and Emma at school.”

Before Mom got sick, she had given me a car for my seventeenth birthday. Unfortunately, Briley hadn’t been so lucky, and Mom’s car needed a new transmission, so it wasn’t drivable. That left me in charge of doing all of the errands. Occasionally, I’d lend my car to Briley, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.

“Yep. But I have a question. Does this outfit make me look fat?” She glanced back at the mirror, examining herself again.

I snorted in response at how cliché she sounded. “You’re literally ninety-eight pounds,” I retorted. “At this point, I don’t think you could look fat even if you tried.”

She nodded and finally turned to face me again. “Okay, let’s go.” She grabbed her bag off the floor and tossed it over her shoulder.

I never cared about shallow stereotypes, such as popularity, looking a certain way, status, anything like that. Bry was the complete opposite. At one point, I was jealous of her metabolism. Neither of us had the luxuries of eating whatever the hell we wanted, when we wanted it, but college helped me fill out more last year. My stomach was fuller than hers, my hips were wide, and my breasts hurt my back. If I bent over, I had rolls. I was what they would consider a “ skinny fat”. Not necessarily plus sized, and not obese. But not skinny by societal means either.

I grabbed my bag from where it resided on my side of our cluttered bedroom. Each of us had a twin-sized bed with a bedside table, and we shared a closet. Her half of the room was girly and messier, while mine was just…plain. I always wanted to personalize my room, but soccer was my top priority to maintain my scholarship. There simply wasn’t enough time for hobbies, and the room size made it challenging.

The kids were already in the kitchen, seated at the table where I’d left them. A plate of eggs and bacon sat unfinished on the wooden surface, making me pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. Emma was grinning with a piece of bacon pinched between her fingers, her arm in the air while she moved it around like some kind of vehicle.

I glanced over at my mom who was dressed in a heavy robe, her hip propped against the counter. Her dark hair was tugged into a bun, the greasy strands poking out every which way. She looked paler than usual, her nose red like she’d been blowing it too much.

“Mom.” I sighed. “I asked you to make sure they finished eating without making a mess.” My eyes skimmed over my siblings, a stain coating the front of Emma’s pink dress and her black hair that had been in two neat braids was now a tangled mess.

“I tried,” she defended, her voice a bit raspy from coughing so much. “They won’t listen to me.”

Frustration tore through me, causing my hands to clench into fists at my sides. I knew she was sick. I knew she couldn’t help it. Before this, she was a good parent. But I also didn’t sign up for this. If that made me selfish, so be it. There wasn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t do for my family, but I could only take so much. I glanced over at Tate, who was surprisingly well put together before returning my gaze to Emma.

“Come on, Em. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She huffed out in annoyance. “I don’t want to go to school today. I want to stay with Mommy.” She looked over at our mother with hopeful brown eyes, and it made my chest tighten with guilt. She was only six and didn’t understand that Mom was sick and could barely take care of herself. Some days, she couldn’t care for herself at all.

“Baby,” I started, trying to find the right words. “You have to go to school. Mom doesn’t feel good and I can’t miss school. It’s just for a few hours. It’s my day off today. We can go get ice cream afterwards.”

She perked up at that, her eyes widening. “Really?”

“Mom said we’re broke,” Tate added, confusion twisting his features.

I snapped my eyes in her direction, annoyance trickling through my veins. They were kids. They shouldn’t have to worry about how much money we had. Tate was only nine, old enough to grasp the concept of things like that. It was a burden I didn’t want on either one of their shoulders. Mom shrugged, lifting her coffee cup to her lips before swallowing a mouthful. Knowing her, there was a lot of sugar and creamer in that glass. The best fucking medicine for a diabetic. I rolled my eyes.

“I have enough for ice cream,” I offered with a small smile. “I’ll even let you pick out a toy from the Dollar Tree.” A smile broke out across his face, and he nodded.

I glanced at my watch again and cursed. If I didn’t hurry, we were all going to be late. “Come on, Emma.”

She jumped out of the chair and scurried across the hardwood floor, her shoes squeaking against it. I held out my hand and she slipped her small one into mine, allowing me to lead her back down the hall and into my room.

“Sit on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, and I hurried down the hall into their room. It sucked that they had to share. Technically, it wasn’t even legal since they were different genders, but there was nowhere else for them to sleep. My bed wasn’t big enough, or I’d share with Emma. School was the only thing driving me forward most days. To make enough money to get my mom the medical help she needed, to be able to offer Emma and Tate a better life. Three years to go, and I’d have it all.

I swallowed thickly, rummaging through her closet to find a new outfit. Clothes were scattered all over the floor. Some of them belonged to my brother, and some were Em’s. I opted for a yellow sundress and made my way back to my room. To my relief, she was still on the bed, not getting into everything like I’d half expected.

“Why don’t you just ask your boyfriend for some money?” Briley asked from the doorway, making me jump.

“Because that’s weird. I have a job. We’re getting by just fine.”

That was the furthest thing from the truth. We weren’t getting by at all, and the last thing I wanted to do was ask my doting boyfriend, Lucas, for a handout. He was on a soccer scholarship, too, but his family was better off than mine. He didn’t have the pressures of taking care of younger siblings, either. He had an older sister, but she was already out of college. He had the luxury of getting to stay on campus.

“It’s not weird,” she argued. “If he loves you like he says he does, then it shouldn’t be an issue.”

My stomach bottomed out at that reminder. We haven’t even been dating a full year yet—in two weeks it would be a year—and he already dropped the L word. I knew there wasn’t a time limit on when you should say it; it had to do with how you felt. But I didn’t even know what love was, or if we even had a future beyond college. His plans were vastly different from mine. He wanted to get out of Colorado, travel, and work in engineering. My obligations were here with my family.

“It’s not happening.” I placed the dress on the edge of the bed and helped Emma out of the one she was wearing. “If you’re worried about finances so much, maybe you could get a job.”

“I plan to. I’m going job hunting after school today. Angie said she’d take me.”

I drew my lips into a tight line before nodding. It wasn’t the life I wanted for her, but she was eighteen. She was an adult, and if it made her feel better, I wouldn’t stop her. Not that she’d listen to me anyways. I did think Angie was a horrible influence on her, though. The girl was a wild card. As kids, they were always getting into trouble. Mom had to bust them out of a college party where they were drinking and people were hooking up out in the open when they were only fifteen.

I helped my youngest sister into her new dress and grabbed the hairbrush off my side table. “Turn your back to me,” I instructed. When she repositioned herself, I started working on her hair. It didn’t take too long since it was mostly still intact. I just had to stuff the extra strands back into her braids before securing them again. “Good as new.” I grinned. “Now let’s go.”

I dropped into my chemistry class with a minute to spare, my heart beating wildly in my chest at having to sprint here just to make it on time. Some of the professors weren’t lenient or understanding and would kick you out regardless of the reasoning behind it. To solidify my point, our professor scowled at me for cutting it so close, her lips pulled into a disapproving grimace. I shot her an apologetic smile and reached into my bag to pull out my laptop. I’ve had it for three years, but it was still in decent condition. I placed it on the table alongside my notebook with two pens inserted in the spirals.

Our professor took to the front of the room, standing before a massive projector as she glanced around the large space. “Since it’s your first day, I thought we could start by getting to know each other a little bit. Consider this your introduction.” She shot me a pointed look. “And remember. If you’re not ten minutes early, you are late.” Silence followed her warning and she folded her hands together in front of her before continuing. “I am Professor Whitlock. This is my seventh-year teaching at Northbrook University. I will be your chemistry teacher for the year.” She turned toward the far side of the room. “We’ll start with you. Just state your name, major, and what you hope to accomplish within the next five years.”

The person she pointed to rambled off his name, stating that he was a biology major but wanting to get into forensic science. My mind short-circuited back to my family, my throat constricting at how hard things have been for the last three years. My mom was diagnosed with heart disease four years ago and it took its toll on her a year following that. Back then, we had money and could afford to get her seen by a doctor. What we knew for sure, was that she was going to die. We just didn’t know when, or what to look for to predict it. As the months ticked by, she got worse and worse. She wasn’t in a bad enough condition to be bedridden or on hospice, but sometimes it felt like she was headed that direction. The doctor had said that more than half of people live for at least five years after getting it; some lived even longer. She was supposed to have routine checkups, though, and without insurance, or money, we couldn’t afford it. Mom was too afraid to get government assistance, aside from the social security check she got every month. She was afraid that if we went to DHS for help, they’d put Emma and Tate in a foster home due to our living situation.

A familiar voice rang out, slicing through my thoughts. “My name is Amber Davis. I’m majoring in microbiology. I chose this field because I’ve always enjoyed science.”

Amber was my best friend. Like Briley, we didn’t have a lot in common, but somehow, we became good friends practically as soon as I started school here. She was pretty, popular, cared about partying, but also made sure to take school as seriously as she could. I wasn’t in any position to have friends, or a boyfriend for that matter, but she and Lucas forced their way into my life, and they just stuck. Amber was the only person I’d bothered to confide in about my home life and about things that had happened in my past.

People continued to ramble off their introductions, and eventually, it was my turn. Professor Whitlock gave me an expectant look, holding her hands in front of her as she’d been doing since I slipped into my seat. I hated speaking with a lot of people watching but knew that if I wanted to be a nurse, there was no way out of it. My throat was thick with nervous energy, and I forced myself to swallow past the lump that had formed in the narrow passageway.

“My name is Everleigh Knight. I’m working on my undergraduate for my Bachelor of Science in Nursing.” I took a deep breath, trying to remember what else we were supposed to say about ourselves. “Within the next few years, I plan on graduating and getting my mom the medical treatment she needs.” They didn’t need to know that I also planned on taking care of my two younger siblings like they were my own, or that my mom was practically on her deathbed.

Professor Whitlock’s features softened at that, her weathered face holding sympathy instead of the scornful look she’d been sporting when I first walked in before class started.

When it was the next person’s turn, I slouched back in my seat, allowing my eyes to flutter closed. My mind was always spinning, overtaken with anxiety and the horrors of what the future held regarding my mother. Even if I got her around-the-clock care, she would still die. It was a terminal illness, and unfortunately, there was no cure or treatment for it. All they could do was try to keep her comfortable and as healthy as possible to prologue death from gripping her in its clutches.

We’d never been rich, but she always made sure we had what we needed. We didn’t have to worry about finances, money, or what we were lacking. My sperm donor split as soon as she was diagnosed, taking the majority of our income with him. He didn’t want to be stuck with raising four kids by himself. Said he didn’t sign up for that. He had been our entire world, and we never saw it coming. He signed away his rights so that the court couldn’t force us on him when Mom passed, and then he kissed us goodbye with blurry eyes and bolted. He didn’t leave us any money. The house had been in his name, and we ended up having to move later that year to the gutter we lived in now.

The girl beside me glanced in my direction, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. It took me a minute to realize that I knew her.

“Rosalie?” I whispered. “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

She smiled slightly. “No? My introduction didn’t ring any bells?”

I huffed a laugh. “I might have zoned out.”

Rosalie was in our circle. We weren’t extremely close, but we ate meals together if we had the same lunch period, and sometimes she would go do things with us, but only if her boyfriend didn’t request her presence. They spent a lot of time together, so she was usually stuck up his ass—not that I could blame her. Alex was cute, just not my type. He usually ate with us, too. Then again, Lucas hadn’t really been my type either, but he was a nice reprieve from the guys I normally dated, not that I had a lot of experience in that department. I’d only had sex with three people, and only dated two of those people.

I cracked my eyes open after closing them again, not wanting our professor to think I was sleeping and call me out on it. I loathed attention. There was no purpose for it. Especially if the kind of attention was humiliating.

“Alex is on the soccer team this year,” Rosalie explained, even though I didn’t give a shit. I had so much on my plate lately that her boyfriend’s hobbies didn’t concern me.

“That’s awesome. What position?” I might not have cared that her boyfriend was on the team, but I could talk about the sport itself for hours. It was my solace. When I played, nothing else mattered. Nothing else was happening. It was just me, contact, and the ball. Even though the team was a co-ed team, the girls had to try out separately, so I had no idea what guys were joining this year.

She smiled proudly. “Midfield.”

That didn’t surprise me. Most guys wanted to be midfield since they had more opportunities to run and score. It was the most active position. When I was younger, that was my position, too. But then my asthma worsened, leaving me to take either defense or offense. I ended up taking defense, because it gave me a thrill, and was one of the more intense positions.

I glanced over at Rosalie again, her lip tucked beneath her teeth. When she caught me staring, she released it and offered one of her shy smiles. “What are you majoring in again?” I asked, feeling slightly guilty that I couldn’t remember.

“I’m doing my undergrad for psych,” she admitted. “Then I have to do another few years to get my doctorate.”

“And Alex?”

Her smile widened. “Same thing,” she stated proudly.

Their relationship was cute, but I couldn’t help but feel a little envious. Sure, I had Lucas, but Rosalie’s relationship felt more authentic. I cared about my boyfriend, there were just so many obstacles in our way regarding the future. It would be na?ve of me to think it would last long term. That thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, reminding me how screwed up my life truly was. Lucas was one of the only things I had to look forward to, that didn’t tie me down as a parental figure.

My thoughts were cut short when the final person spoke to give their introduction. His voice making the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end—a voice I couldn’t forget, no matter how hard I tried. A voice that still haunted me at night when I was tucked under the safety of my thin comforter, reminiscing on how life had been before my mother’s diagnosis. A voice that I never thought I’d hear again.

“My name is Ashton Banks,” he began in that hard smooth tone, the one he used when he looked me in the eye with so much hatred and told me I was nothing but a whore and that we were done. It felt like the air in the room had grown thinner, tension prickling through the atmosphere and searing into me, but I was the only one who felt it. “I’m majoring in business. Within the next few years, I plan on graduating and working alongside my father as head CEO of Banks Enterprises.”

Murmurs sounded around the room, excitement carrying their voices through the tension filled air. Banks Enterprises was a well-known company, known for their casino and hotel chains throughout the world. When we dated, his father traveled a lot, trying to get his name out there. He obviously succeeded.

Professor Whitlock smiled at him with obvious admiration. I couldn’t see him from where I sat. He was somewhere in the back, but I wasn’t about to turn around and look, either.

“Do you plan on joining any of the fraternities?” she questioned, giving him a hopeful look.

“Haven’t really thought about it,” he admitted. “But I could be talked into it.” I didn’t miss the double meaning of his words, how they contained a sultry tilt at the end of his suggestion. Was he seriously flirting with our forty-year-old teacher? In front of the entire class?

Bold. I’d give him that.

My head was spinning, unable to catch up with the fact that he was in this class with me right now—that he’d seen me walk in, and that he knew I was here all along. After we broke up, he left school. I assumed he dropped out, but if that was the case, he wouldn’t be here right now unless he got his GED. Dread twisted my stomach into knots. We’d only dated for two years, but my entire world had revolved around him. He was my first love, my first kiss, my first everything . Back then, I was na?ve enough to believe we had forever. Picturing a life without him had made me sick to my stomach. But then…I made a horrible mistake that cost us everything. A mistake that could never be undone—one that made him despise me more than anything in the world. And I couldn’t blame him.

Professor Whitlock spoke for the rest of the period, smiling toward the back of the room every now and then—probably at Ash if I had to guess—and my stomach was twisted the remainder of class. Maybe he’d leave me alone. There was no undoing the past, but just knowing that he was here had doubt creeping in, planting a seed of dread in the back of my mind. Maybe once I got used to it, seeing him here wouldn’t bother me as fiercely. I could learn to live with it. It was my only option.

Toward the end of the period, Professor Whitlock explained that we’d do most of our work in a laboratory located through a door toward the front of the room where she now stood. We’d be given assigned seats, and these would be our lab partners for every project. Hopefully I got paired up with Amber, or anyone else who wasn’t him . She didn’t specify how many partners we’d have, but I guess I’d find out tomorrow. Considering she said partners , I assumed we’d have more than one.

When class ended, I stuffed my things back in my bag and jumped out of my seat. Everything in me was telling me to run away, to never look back, but I wanted to see Amber. So, instead of running out of the room with my tail tucked between my legs, I shouldered my bag and waited for my best friend by the door, hoping that she reached me before he did.

Students paid me no mind as they talked amongst each other, slipping out into the hallway beside me. Finally, my shoulders relaxed with relief when Amber’s green eyes captured my brown ones. Her burgundy-dyed hair rested straight around her shoulders, barely brushing against her collarbone. She shot me a smile from across the room as she moved in my direction, but before she could even get halfway across the room, my throat tightened as electricity snaked down my spine, sending my body on high alert.

Glancing to my left where students were making their way down the steps and onto the floor, my eyes locked with Ashton’s gray ones. I had to do a double take to make sure this was actually him. He was much more muscular than I remembered, with tattoos covering the entirety of his neck and arms, drifting down his wrists and trickling along his knuckles. His gray shirt made his eyes pop and it was stretched across his hard chest and thick biceps. There was so much hatred in his gaze, urging me to break eye contact.

Instead of slipping through the door like the rest of the class, he stopped, his frame towering over me. He’d always been much taller, but it had never felt as intimidating as this. I was so short compared to him that I was eye-level with the tops of his ribs. I craned my head back to look up at him, my heart thundering beneath my chest.

“Isn’t this an unfortunate surprise?” he growled, venom coming out thick in his voice. When I just stared stupidly up at him and didn’t say anything, he continued. “I surely hope you weren’t waiting for me,” he mused.

“I’m wasn’t,” I snapped a little too harshly.

To my relief, Amber finally made her appearance, linking her arm through mine. I leaned into her subconsciously, thankful for the extra support. Her gaze raked over him from head to toe with obvious fascination, and his lips tugged into an arrogant smirk at her forwardness.

“Let’s go,” I told her, thankful that our free period was after one more class and I could sink into Lucas’s arms and revel in the safety of his presence.

Ashton looked between us, his eyes dropping to where we clung to each other. I knew what he was thinking. We were complete opposites in every way. Even in the way we looked. She wore a short skirt with a matching lace halter top, paired with heels. Her lips were painted a deep shade of maroon that brought out her tan complexion and green eyes. She was fucking breathtaking, and he knew it, too.

I, on the other hand, was wearing my gray soccer hoodie with a pair of athletic joggers and sneakers. My hair was naturally straight, tugged into a high ponytail. The only sign of makeup on me was my cherry lip gloss, black eyeliner, and mascara.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Ashton told her, his eyes drifting over her exposed cleavage.

She smirked up at him, knowing exactly how to play on his level. Guys like Ashton didn’t like desperation. Not unless they were wanting something easy at the moment. If Amber wanted more than that, she’d have to play to his level, which she knew. She was experienced with that kind of thing, leaving guys wanting more, and feeding right out of the palm of her dainty little hand. It was impressive, really.

But right now, all I felt was jealousy, even though I had no right at all to feel that way.

Once he was gone, Amber turned to me with a wide smile. “He is beyond the hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” she gushed.

I shrugged. If there was one thing I knew about Ashton was that he was probably lurking around the hall trying to hear our conversation. That’s how he used to be anyways. “Not really my type anymore,” I lied. He was exactly my type, which was precisely why I wanted to give Lucas a shot. I needed something different.

Amber shot me an incredulous look, but then her gaze softened when she was hit with a sudden realization. “Oh. Right…” she trailed off. “You are dating Lucas fucking Rivers after all. And he’s the furthest thing from a tatted up bad boy than you can get.” She giggled.

I snorted in response. She wasn’t making fun of him, but she wasn’t wrong. Lucas fit the pretty boy jock stereotype. Ashton was someone he’d probably attempt to bully in his younger years only to have his face smashed in afterwards.

We stepped out of the classroom, and as expected, Ashton was making his way down the hallway with his back to us, indicating that he did hang back to eavesdrop for a few moments.

I guess some things never changed.