Chapter 20 Presley #2
Their brows curved inward, conveying their confusion and possibly their frustration.
I didn’t care if they wanted something deeper from this moment.
I refused to give it to them. They were the ones who made it clear that fucking each other could mean absolutely nothing. This was pleasure, and nothing more.
I found my way back to my room in the farmhouse.
It was strange how at home I felt here, as if it’d just been waiting for me to settle in.
I thought back to all those days I had worked on this house, gutting it; imagining a life inside of it.
The completion of such a big dream was still not something I had fully come to terms with, or the fact that Kingston was the one to do it.
A deep sorrow began to fill my chest like loose thread, unspooling and tightening around my organs.
I felt so betrayed by Scotty, by the twins, and even my father.
Yet, there was this hope that still connected me to King and Gio, this tiny flicker in the darkest part of my heart that whispered of a fresh start.
When I closed my eyes, I could see the three of us living here.
I had even pictured what it would be like to take it a step further and thought up this delirious idea of one day becoming a mother.
That sadness returned as I pictured Adrian’s face, and how he’d looked at me when I had talked about my wedding dress in the car.
How there was a future he’d imagined for us as well, and now there was no chance of that ever happening.
He might not have ever had my entire heart, but ever since I had fallen for the twins, I had gotten used to only giving away fractions of it at a time.
It wouldn’t have been fair to him, but it would have been enough for me.
“Presley?” Gio knocked, calling through the door.
I had locked myself inside, needing space and some time to sort out my thoughts.
I had fucked both of them, individually—thinking it would somehow fill this gaping hole in my chest, but it did nothing but remind me that they’d both hurt me.
Even if what Kingston said was true and Gio didn’t want any part of it, he still said those hurtful words after he’d had a hand in taking my virginity. He was still complicit in breaking me.
“I just want to be sure you’re okay!” Gio called again with a small thud, likely his forehead falling to the wood.
I wanted to yell at the door that he was wasting his time.
The only thing I needed from him was an occasional orgasm.
I didn’t care if he checked on me or brought me flowers.
I didn’t care if he was sorry. I wouldn’t be trusting him with even the tiniest fraction of my heart any time soon.
I was glad we each had separate rooms as I planned to remain in mine, without them, for as long as I felt like it.
Eventually, he walked away, and I let out a small sigh of relief.
Eyeing the clawfoot tub, I decided to submerge these feelings and regrets, and most of all release the aching in my chest that hadn’t let up since I found Adrian on the front steps.
It was late when I finally emerged from my room. I was thirsty and needed a snack, but I didn’t want to risk running into the twins, so I waited until it was late enough that I knew they’d be asleep.
As I tiptoed out of my room, I saw that the doors to the twins’ rooms were wide open.
Each room had the smallest amount of light pouring in, either from a TV screen or LED light of some kind.
Gripping the wood trim, I verified that both Kingston and Gio were sleeping.
Something about seeing them both on their stomachs in the exact same position but two different beds, completely at peace, had warmth sliding in through the cracks of my broken heart.
It was how they’d always slept unless I was between them.
Leaving them both exactly where they were, I lightly jogged downstairs and ventured toward the kitchen.
I had just pulled a cup down and filled it with tap water when I noticed something burning just beyond the barn.
Squinting, I tried to ensure it wasn’t just something I had imagined, but when the smoke began to billow into the sky, I realized it was an actual fire.
“What the hell?” Who would be burning at this hour and what—
“No.” I gasped aloud as I dropped the glass into the sink. It shattered everywhere, echoing loud enough to wake the twins. I didn’t care. I was already running toward the front door, throwing it open, and running outside barefoot.
I had on a thin T-shirt and small cotton shorts as I tore through the cold February air. The ground was freezing as my feet slammed into the icy earth and my heart raged within my chest. I heard someone call my name from the house, but I just kept running toward the blazing fire.
It was far enough from the barn that it wasn’t in danger of catching, but still the flames licked at the sky, scorching something so hot that even as I neared, I knew it was too late.
Tears slid down my face as I kept running, uncaring for rocks and other rubble, tearing at my skin.
I felt some sort of resistance in my skin when I climbed the fence bordering the field, but it didn’t matter as I finally drew closer and felt the heat against my face.
My eyes searched the space, unwilling to accept what I knew was burning inside.
The metal box was in the center of the flames; the body bag had completely melted away, revealing Adrian’s burnt body.
A scream tore from me as I fell to the ground.
There were strong arms that came around me seconds later, lifting me off the cold field. I didn’t pay attention to who, but I knew both brothers were outside with me, watching as the man I had considered marrying burned to ash.
Another angry scream scraped up my throat, burning and burning, but I couldn’t stop.
This one thing I had asked for. Just one, and Scotty couldn’t give it to me.
I hated him. I hated him so much that I wanted to tear the skin from my bones.
I wanted to jump into the flames and burn with the man who had gently tended to my very broken heart.
“Where is he?” Kingston asked. I knew he meant Scotty; they likely knew this had his fingerprints all over it as well as I did.
I had defied him, and he found a way to get his way in the end.
Now there was no reason for me to go to Italy to bury him, no danger I had to worry about in returning for a senseless task that would have tipped off Markos.
How dare Scotty take this from me. How dare he burn Adrian when I had specifically asked to return him to his family plot.
I was so angry that I pushed out of the arms that were holding me, and I began running toward the manor.
“Presley!” Gio yelled after me as I continued to run.
Kingston must have stayed behind to put the fire out because it was only Gio who ran behind me, and when I came close enough to the terrace doors, instead of using the keycode, I bent down and grabbed a rock and threw it as hard as I could through the glass French doors.
“Fuck, Presley.” I heard Gio yell from behind me, but he was too far back to stop me.
I burst through the glass and ran toward my family wing.
The door was open as I approached, which meant Scotty was either inside or he’d just left.
I wanted him to be inside. My hands shook as my breathing came in and out of my mouth in chaotic waves.
My chest ached from how hard my lungs had just pumped cold oxygen into them, and my feet were numb.
The living room was dark, along with the kitchen, but I pushed on down the hall, feeling a strange sense of resolve.
I knew I was likely tracking blood from my feet, but I just didn’t have it in me to care.
Instead, I grabbed one of the handguns that Scotty had hidden in the hallway bookshelf and turned toward his door with both arms raised.
I pulled the trigger without seeing behind the door, and I just kept shooting until the clip ran out.
Gio stood to the side with a heaving chest and his eyes blown wide.
My father ran down the stairs, holding his own gun, ready to shoot.
Gio ran interference and began explaining, but I focused on the door, now shredded with bullet holes.
I kicked the wood as hard as I could, knowing Scotty could easily shoot back if he were still alive, but not caring.
His queen-sized bed was made, his room as tidy as it ever was. His dogs were gone, and I knew if I looked in his dresser, his clothes would be as well. Dropping the emptied gun to my side, I walked farther inside, knowing he left me a note somewhere.
Sure enough, it was pinned to the picture of me above his desk. It was of me when I was little, my head was up through the moon roof of the car my dad drove, and I had my arms out wide like I was flying. The memory had me sucking in a sharp breath.
His words when I was eight came back, reminding me of that happy memory. He’d replaced it with a blood-soaked horror that I blamed myself for years, from that first moment he’d ordered me to kill.
“Presley, honey.” My dad said my name as he carefully stepped inside the room.
I plucked the note from the picture on the cork board and let it fall to the ground.
Lánya,
I told you it was too dangerous. Next time, listen.
-Scotty.
My dad drew closer, gently taking the note from me. “Presley, come here, honey.”
I spun around to face him and began sobbing.
He caught me as I fell to the floor and began telling him every single detail of what Scotty had done.
I explained the photo that Adrian had emailed me, and the burned body.
I told him everything, and my father rocked me in his arms like I was a child again.
I didn’t know where Gio went, but I didn’t care.
My dad carried me upstairs to my bedroom, where I eventually fell asleep.
When I woke sometime during the night, my father had fallen asleep on one side of me, and my mother was on the other.
The idea that they were there to keep me safe, to protect me, had me sinking into sleep once more and subconsciously hoping I didn’t wake up.