Chapter Four
Evan
“Fuck!!” I shout as I punch the wall closest to me.
I hate Reese. I felt myself softening towards him when he promised to keep my sisters out of this, but I can’t afford that.
I hate him, and I need to remember that.
I need to ruin him, and I can’t do that if I’m feeling appreciative.
I stalk towards his next class, in need of a distraction.
▲▲▲▲▲
Pulling up to the actual fucking mansion Reese lives in, I can’t help but gawk.
Seriously, who needs a house like this for two people?
It’s so wasteful. I slam the Jeep door, not bothering to lock it.
It’d serve him right if it was stolen, but let’s be honest…
in this neighborhood, it’ll be just fine.
I burst through the front door but something slamming into my gut sends me to my knees.
I land on my side in the fetal position.
William Kensington stands over me, the sleeves of his crisp white button down rolled up to his elbows.
When he kicks me, I realize it was his fist that I felt.
He lands two more blows, before stooping down to grab the collar of my shirt.
“Would you like to tell me why you’re home and not at the most important practice of the year?” he asks in a voice so calm it sends chills down my spine. Who the fuck can sound like they’re discussing the weather as they beat the shit out of their own kid?
“I… I wasn’t feeling well.” The lie is evident in my voice.
Mr. Kensington tuts. “How are you still this pathetic? Have I taught you nothing? Go to your room. I do not want to see you for the rest of the night. There will be no dinner. If you can’t do the one thing I ask of you, then I have no reason to provide for you.”
I scramble to my feet and rush toward the stairs. Mr. Kensington’s cold voice stops me in my tracks. “I do not wish to have this conversation again, Reese. Ensure that you do not miss practice again, hmm?”
“Yes sir,” I say in a quiet voice. Once he’s left me alone in the foyer, I hobble up the steps.
It takes me a few tries to find the room that I woke up in this morning.
I desperately want to collapse into the heavenly bed and cry, but I know I’ll regret it later if I don’t address these bruises now.
Slowly, painfully, I pull my shirt over my head and trudge into the en suite.
Looking in the mirror, I see the bruises that mottle Reese’s chest in a new light.
When I first saw them this morning, I assumed they were from football.
Learning they were given to him by his own father has me questioning what I thought I knew about his behavior.
What if everyone thought I had it so great because I came from money?
What if I was hated by the one person that was meant to love me unconditionally?
What if I didn’t have Natalie and Sarah at home to fill the holes that Mom left behind?
Would I feel the need to find love and acceptance wherever I could?
Would I be overly loud and obnoxious in my search for it?
Well, shit. What am I supposed to do now that I have this new understanding of Reese Fuckface Kensington?