Chapter 20
Chapter
Karl Newton isn’t a small man—he’s the source of my brother’s six-foot stature—and he’s kept in shape despite having what I’d guess is a plush office and spending most of his time in meetings.
His hair is a thick mixture of white and red, and his dark eyes have a shrewd cunning lingering in their depths.
Overall, he’s aging as well as one of those expensive liquors that businessmen keep in their corner offices.
No outward sign that he’s a vindictive asshole.
“You two look friendly,” is Karl’s version of a greeting, his stare flicking between George and me.
“We’re not.” George shifts away from me, his voice—hell, his whole body—going cold. “Just ran into each other at Shawn’s.”
I blink, pulling on every ounce of my customer service skills to keep a bland, unaffected expression on my face.
Even as a sharp jab slips under my rib cage.
It’s only at that slice of pain that I realize how much I’d softened toward George.
How I’d managed to tuck away my animosity and ignore my crush, to let myself think that maybe we were settling into friendship.
That maybe he’d started to realize that however flawed I am, I’m not whatever monster my father has made me out to be.
I’m a fool. Naive. How could I have thought George changed his mind about me?
One comment from my father, and I’m a pariah yet again.
Well, fuck you, too, George Bunsen.
Karl gives a single nod. Approval that his BnB minion has shunned me like he was supposed to.
“Yeah, don’t worry,” I drawl. “We’re not friendly. Can’t stand him, really. Think it’s something to do with that BBN stench.” I plaster on a sickly sweet smile. “You know, smells like misogyny and expensive leather upholstery that’s seen too many bodily fluids.”
Karl’s mouth twists, his whole face darkening.
There are few people in the world who dig past my people-pleaser surface to spy the cynical bitchiness I hold close to my heart.
Shawn knows, but only about the loving bitch who bickers with him about books.
My mom knows, from the rare arguments we get into, but not so often anymore.
She might have forgotten the darkest parts of me by now.
Darla has met and adores my bitch, because she wears her fury on the surface at all times.
But everyone else? I smile, I help, I keep the peace. They assume I’m sweet and nice and never guess how many cynical thoughts play through my mind. I like that people think I’m a kind person. I want to be a kind person, so I work hard to live that way.
Be kind to friends.
Be kind to family.
Be kind to customers.
Be kind to strangers.
But this man does not bring out that urge in me. This is one person I have no interest in pleasing. He contributes nothing to my life other than discomfort and hurt. There is no point in trying to make him happy because the only way I can do that is by ceasing to exist.
In a way, Karl Newton’s unalterable dislike for me is freeing.
I don’t have to try. I could say absolutely anything to this man, and he’ll hate me as much as he did the moment before.
“I see you’re bothering Shawn again,” Karl sneers.
And then there’s that. His constant goal of making me feel like shit about my relationship with my brother.
“Yep. Just being the classic annoying little sister.”
Karl’s glower deepens, probably hating the fact that I called myself Shawn’s sister.
So annoying to be reminded of his infidelity, am I right?
He opens his mouth, but then his attention flicks to George and away. Doesn’t want to be too scathing to me in front of others? I don’t see why he’d hold himself back, when George just made it clear exactly whose side he’s on.
“Excuse me.” Karl tucks away his disgust behind a bored mask. “I think I’ll head up now. Shawn and I have business to discuss. Some of us actually work to earn a living instead of expecting others to pay their way.”
My father brushes past me.
And hell, if his words didn’t land exactly in my soft spot. I press a hand to my stomach, the frittata my brother made me with his fancy cheeses and love suddenly not sitting well.
I couldn’t give a fuck about whether my father thinks I’m a money-grubbing mooch or not.
What hurts is the reminder that I am.
Shawn let me write a massive number on a blank check because I’d promised to pay him back using a trust fund that doesn’t exist. All because I wasn’t sure he would give me the money I needed without a way to eventually clear the debt.
Without reassurance that the money was a loan instead of another person in his life using him for his bank account.
But lying about it only made me into the exact kind of person Shawn fears.
And I paid for my mom’s medical bills with what are basically funds from BBN. Money my mother would hate to know the origin of.
A few more weeks, and they’ll both know.
“Beth?” George’s voice pierces my icy anguish of guilt. And the spear of it brings a reminder of his disdain. The way he abandoned the Newton by-blow without an ounce of hesitation.
And he’s also the one who is giving me flying lessons for free because I can’t afford them. I can’t pay my own way with him, either.
Ignoring George, I stalk down the row of luxury vehicles to my beat-up Saturn.
If I speak to him now, I’ll say something to reveal how much his actions gutted me.
Then he’ll point out that he never agreed to be my friend.
That this was always just a favor for Shawn.
And then I’ll never be able to sit beside him in a cockpit again.
Even without him saying all that out loud, I’m not sure I can.
“Beth.” George follows me, but I keep my back to him so he doesn’t see the way my hand shakes as I slide the key into the door. A move I have to do because the key fob broke years ago, and it’s one more thing I don’t have the funds to get fixed.
“I just want—”
“To make things clear,” I snap, cutting him off. “You just wanted to make things clear. And now they are.”
To you, I am a mistake. Got it.
“That’s not…can you just wait?”
“No. I can’t.” I throw my overnight bag into my car and tilt my chin toward George but don’t meet his eyes. “I have work. Because despite what Karl and you might think, I do plan on paying my own way.”
If he tries to say anything else, the words are cut off by me slamming my door shut, revving my engine to life, and cranking the Latin pop music that pours from my speakers.
George shuffles out of the way as I reverse, and I definitely do not glance in my rearview mirror to see him standing still, watching me drive off.
I’m proud of myself for making it all the way out of the city before letting any tears fall.