28. Penelope
Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I lean in close and try to see the difference in me. I feel different, so it should be reflected in the way I look, right?
Being here with Hawthorn is odd. He calls this place home, but it’s not my home; it’s not his home either, it’s a boat. His family owns a large estate, but he’s never taken me there, he’s never taken me anywhere. He won’t have sex with me because he says he needs me to understand that this thing that’s happening between us is about more than just sex. He says that he wants me to claim him back, to be all in, but I’m not sure I even know what that means.
I know I like Hawthorn. He sees me in a way no one else ever has. He doesn’t know all the ugly details, but he sees how messed up I am. He knows I’m evil, he knows I’ve done too many bad things to list, but he still wants me. Sometimes I worry that he’s overlooking all of my sins, but then he calls me his Princess and I hope that maybe he just sees something beneath how bad I am. Something worth saving.
He sees when I’m struggling, and he helps me. Sometimes it’s by calling me on my shit, other times it’s by taking over and telling me what to do. But no matter how crazy I feel, he helps me and I don’t understand why.
A few weeks ago, I thought he was my sister’s. Now I know he’s at least a little bit mine.
Focusing my attention back on the mirror, I tilt my head to the side and try to see what he sees, but all I see is my sister’s face and my eyes.
Today is the first step in our plan to get revenge on my parents. The others decided that we needed to present a united front, to tell the world that my sister and I are a package deal, that whatever rift there might have been between us has been healed. But I don’t know if we’re acting or if we’re actually okay. The idea that she could forgive me for everything I’ve done to her seems bizarre, no matter how many times she says she doesn’t hate me.
None of this feels real, and the thought that this is all some elaborate plot, that Izabella hates me and that Hawthorn is just pretending, tortures me. Because I don’t deserve forgiveness, and no one could ever want just me without the inheritance. The only thing that makes sense is that everything that’s happened in the last few days is just them enacting their own revenge on me.
The idea circles through my mind on a loop, playing over and over so loudly that I lift my hands to my ears and cover them, desperate to quiet my mind. Closing my eyes, I beg for silence, but all I manage to do is turn down the volume on my doubts and worries.
Unable to look at myself in the mirror again, I spin around and open my eyes. Looking to my right, I spot a single glimmer of hope. A plastic cup full of green juice is sitting on the counter. Just like yesterday, Hawthorn ordered it for me, handing it to me without judgment.
He wouldn’t do that if this was all just a cruel joke. He wouldn’t wrap me in his arms while we slept or support me through every meltdown I have.
Everything that’s happening could all just be pretend, but I hope it’s not. I hope my sister doesn’t hate me enough to plan all this. I hope that it’s possible for Hawthorn to want to be with me, even though I’m worthless. I hope that they all really do want to help me get revenge on my parents.
Hope. It’s fickle and fleeting, but I cling to it, holding on to it so tightly and begging it to be real, hoping that maybe I’m not beyond redemption, that everything that’s happening is real, that he’s mine and I’m his.
Stepping into the bedroom, I find Hawthorn fully dressed in his school uniform, lounging across the bed, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he watches me.
“Did I tell you how much I like you in that skirt?” he asks me with a salacious smirk.
The moment I hear his voice, my mind goes blissfully quiet.
“Bend over for me, Princess, show me what color panties I’m going to be carrying in my pocket all day.”
A smile curls my lips as heat fills my cheeks, embarrassed at the reminder that he stole my panties after he fucked me the other day.
“Fuck, you’re fucking adorable. Thirty minutes ago, you were riding my fingers with my thumb in your ass, now you’re blushing because I asked what color panties you had on.” He chuckles, jumping off the bed and closing the distance between us. “Morning, Princess,” he whispers against my lips, kissing me hard and fast, claiming me furiously, then pulling away far too soon. “Let me feed you, then we need to get to Gulliver’s, we’re all going to go together in the limo this morning.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well, I am, and I already made you something to eat, so we need to hurry,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me from the room before I have a chance to argue.
My stomach roils at the thought of eating. I don’t regret the food Hawthorn helped me eat yesterday, but despite him chasing away my mom’s voice in my head, old habits die hard, and I’m more than aware that I went dramatically over my calorie allowance.
This morning in the shower, I’d made a plan just to not eat for a few days to balance out the deficit, but there’s no way I can admit that to him.
“Hawthorn, I can’t…” I start to tell him, but he silences me with his lips, lifting me off the floor and placing me down onto one of the stools.
“Fresh fruit, Greek yogurt, and granola,” he says, ignoring my protest and placing a delicious-looking bowl of healthy food in front of me.
Lowering himself onto the stool next to me, he pulls an identical bowl over to him and then looks at me expectantly.
“I…” I start.
“How many calories did you eat yesterday?” he asks me quickly.
“Two thousand five hundred,” I immediately reply.
“What would have happened if your mom found out you’d gone over your nine hundred fucking calories?” he snarls.
I shake my head, pressing my lips together to keep the truth locked inside.
“Answer me, Penelope.”
Shaking my head again, I turn away, not wanting to see the disapproval on his face.
“Do you know what would happen now if you decided all you wanted to eat for the rest of your life was coffee and ice cream?” he demands.
Slowly, turning to look at him, I shake my head.
His expression immediately softens. “Nothing would happen. Food is life, Princess. It’s warmth and joy and adventure. I know that for now, every bite is a battle, but you are a fucking warrior. So, fuck your mom, fuck the calories. You’re beautiful and fucking perfect, thin or fat, rich or poor, I don’t care. I’ll still want you. Now eat,” he orders, pointing at the bowl.
“Fuck my mom?” I ask.
“Fuck your mom,” he agrees.
A small smile tips at the corners of my lips as an unbidden, slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up from my chest and bursts free. Another laugh follows it, and before I can stop it, I’m giggling and smiling, and the spoon is at my lips. His full lips spread into a smile, and he laughs with me, and I swear the sun seems brighter and the food tastes better than anything I’ve ever tasted before. His eyes promise me that everything between us is so freaking real that I can’t believe I doubted it for a moment.
After we’ve eaten, we drive to Gulliver’s and climb into the limo, where the others are all waiting. The guys make small talk, but I stay silent, nervous butterflies swirling and swooping in my stomach. Warm fingers find mine, and Hawthorn links our hands together, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across my skin. At his touch, the butterflies calm, and I squeeze his hand, silently thanking him for knowing exactly what I needed.
Ten minutes later, our limo pulls into the line of other cars at the school entrance, and we wait our turn to get out.
“Shit, I love this,” Davis announces, grinning maniacally and bouncing in his seat.
“That’s because you’re an attention whore,” my sister says with a smile.
The guys all laugh, and I find myself watching them with fascination. These people are a family, they love each other, and I’m not sure I really understand it, but even as I’m sitting here, a part of them, I’m jealous of them too.
When our car pulls to a stop at the bottom of the entrance steps, I inhale sharply, my fingers gripping Hawthorn’s hand like the lifeline that it is.
“Girls in the middle, united front,” Gulliver says, eyeing us all in turn.
I nod, then look to my sister, who smiles at me reassuringly. “Let’s do this,” she says.
The door opens, and Kip and Davis climb out first, then Gulliver and Izabella, until there’s only Hawthorn and me left inside.
“Come on, Princess, game face. You’re one of us now. You and your sister united,” he says, taking my hand and leading me out of the car to take our place with the others.
Like a scene from a bad teenage romance movie, Hawthorn guides me to stand beside my sister. Gulliver is to her left, his arm draped possessively over her shoulder, while Davis stands to Gulliver’s left. Hawthorn stands next to me, his hand still tightly holding mine, while Kip stands to his right, and we move as a group while the rest of the school watches us.
People stop and stare as we go, rushing to move out of our path so we can march as a group up the steps and through the huge entrance doors. The entire world is aware of my twin’s existence now, and although they’ve seen us together, we’ve never been together like this.
Turning to look at me, she arches her eyebrows and giggles, reaching out to take my other hand, like we did when we were really little. Her hair is up in a messy bun, curling tendrils falling free to frame her face. Her lips are bright red, and her makeup is flawless, but what shines the brightest is how happy she is. She’s in love and engaged, but more than that, I think she’s happy I’m here too.
Pulling me forward and away from Hawthorn, she giggles and winks at me as a guy walks straight into a bank of lockers because he can’t take his eyes off us. Together like this, for the first time possibly ever, I don’t feel insignificant, and in her shadow, I feel powerful by her side.
When we reach our lockers, she finally lets go of my hand and launches herself into Gulliver’s arms.
“That was one hell of an entrance, Little Ghost,” he whispers against her lips. “You look so fucking sexy when you’re this happy.”
“I am happy,” she says, biting her lip as she looks at us all, her gaze lingering on me.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I try to think of what to say to her. I know she wants more from me, but I just don’t know how to give it. The bell rings, saving me, and we all shove our stuff into our lockers and head to homeroom.
Gulliver arranged for me to be transferred into the same homeroom as the others, and I’m grateful not to be alone. Even before I walked away from my inheritance, I was never part of a group the way Hawthorn and his friends are. I had friends, but I never felt sheltered by them the way I have since I stepped out of the limo this morning.
My first class is Spanish, and after Hawthorn kisses me goodbye, I turn to head toward the classroom when Davis falls into stride beside me. “Err, hi,” I say, shocked that he’s walking with me. He’s the only one in the group who’s been open about his dislike of me. I know he’s on board with the whole revenge plan and that he’s prepared to be civil, but I hadn’t expected him to make any real effort beyond that.
“Can I talk to you real quick before we go into class?” he asks awkwardly, looking at anything but me.
“Sure,” I say, stepping out of the way of the door to the classroom.
“Look…” he starts, then stops, pushing his hands into his pockets as his shoulders curl forward and he rolls his neck from side to side uncomfortably. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
My brow furrows as I stare at him in confusion. “Okay,” I say, elongating the word. “What are you sorry for?”
Sighing, he tips his head back and glances at the ceiling for a moment before dropping it back down and looking directly at me. “For being a douche, I guess. I love Izzy, she’s like my sister, and when we found out about you and her and everything with your parents, I…” He pauses and rubs at the back of his neck. “Well, I just assumed you were a fucking bitch and I was a dick to you. So yeah. I’m sorry.”
Blinking, I stare at him for a moment. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look anything but cocky and confident. “You don’t need to apologize,” I tell him bluntly.
“Yeah, I do.”
“No, you don’t,” I argue. “I know you all seem to have jumped on the Penelope-isn’t-the-devil bandwagon, but you need to stop. I’m not nice and innocent and sweet like my sister is. I’m a bad person, and I’ve done truly awful things, and just because I did one thing that was sort of good, doesn’t negate all the shitty things I’ve done in the past.”
Nodding slowly, he assesses me, like he’s seeing me for the first time. “I can see how you and Hawthorn ended up together,” he says, shocking me with the change of subject.
“We’re not…” I start, and then swallow down my objections, because we are, kind of.
His familiar smile slips into place again. “I’m not going to be a dick anymore, okay? You’re one of us now. Hawthorn’s my brother, and you’re his girl, Izzy’s my sister, and you’re her twin, so you’re family too. We don’t have to be fucking besties or anything. But I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for being a dick, and I’m going to stow my bullshit from now on, okay?”
Dumbfounded, I just nod, freezing to the spot when he pulls me in for a hug. Dropping a quick kiss to the top of my head, he takes my hand and drags me into class and to the back row of seats, glaring at the guy in the seat next to his until he picks up his stuff and moves.
The rest of the day is weird. At least one of the guys is in all of my classes, and just like Davis, they drag me to the back row, where they always sit, and make me sit next to them.
By the time the final bell rings, I haven’t spent a moment on my own all day, and honestly, I’m exhausted. All I want to do is go home, to my real home, and curl up under my comforter in my own bed. Only it’s not my home anymore, and considering how pissed my parents are, I’d lay money on the fact that the contents of my room have probably been thrown in the garbage by now.
A pang of homesickness washes through me, and sadness settles like a weight on my shoulders. I don’t miss my parents; they’ve never been a source of comfort for me. But I miss the simplicity of my old life. It was busy, controlled, and rigid, but at least I understood it. I understood my purpose and role in it.
This self-doubt and constant questioning of who I am and what I’m doing is starting to drive me crazy. I’m not really a whiny person, yet I feel like the biggest woe-is-me bitch ever right now. So my parents are borderline abusive, manipulative, and evil, whatever. We’re rich, powerful, and connected. Most people would put up with anything to live my life.
I sigh with relief when firm arms curl around my waist and pull me back into a hard chest as the scent of Hawthorn surrounds me. The realization that just this one innocuous touch is enough to instantly calm me is rattling, but I don’t fight it. Instead, I turn into him, burrowing my face against his chest and wrapping my arms around his back so I can cling to him.
Holding me tightly, he chuckles softly, nuzzling his lips against the top of my head. “Hey, Princess,” he coos.
“Can we go?” I ask, my face still pressed against his blazer.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just tired,” I tell him, not willing to admit that I’m more than ready to get away from his friends and my sister. If I could, I’d go back to the hotel, but I know if I suggest it, he’ll go all growly on me.
“You guys ready?” Hawthorn asks the others.
There’s a unanimous murmur of agreement, but I don’t pay any attention. Prying me off his chest, Hawthorn drapes his arm across my shoulders and leads me toward the front of the school and our limo.
After a full day at school, everyone has seen us all together, so we don’t wait around on the steps and head for the limo the moment it crawls to the front of the line.
“Dinner at ours?” Izzy suggests, and I have to hold in a groan.
“I should actually go get my stuff from the hotel,” I say. “If you can drop me off at the Haywood, I’ll grab a cab over to Gulliver’s afterward.”
Hawthorn stiffens, but I smile at him, trying to reassure him.
“I’ll go with you,” he says.
“You don’t need to come; I literally just have a handful of stuff. I’ll grab it, then pay my bill and come straight over to you,” I say, trying to sound casual.
His eyes narrow. “Penelope,” he says, his voice gravelly and full of warning.
“I’m more than capable of getting my handful of possessions on my own,” I hiss angrily, glaring at him and daring him to argue with me.
“Fine,” he snaps, his eyes narrowed into slits.
Fifteen minutes later, I watch the limo pull into traffic and exhale a slow, ragged breath. Walking across the lobby, I press the call button for the elevator, then ride it to the fourth floor. Sliding the key card into the lock, I turn the handle and step into the empty room. It feels like it’s been weeks since the last time I was here. So much has changed since I spent four days moping and trying to figure out if I should take a risk and ask for help.
The room is exactly how I left it. My makeup is spread out on the small dressing table, and my spare uniform and handful of clothes are hanging in the closet. The emptiness feels a little desolate, but I still drop my bag and key card onto the floor, flop down onto the bed, and sigh wearily. Inhaling slowly, I let my body melt into the comforter, the relief of being alone so overwhelming that tears well in my eyes. It’s not that I don’t want to be with Hawthorn, I do, it’s more that I’ve forgotten how tiring it is to pretend.
When I planned to ask my sister and her family for their help, I never imagined that I’d be living with Hawthorn, starting a business with the five of them, and suddenly spending all my time with this group of people who seem to think I’m one of them, all in the space of a couple of days.
I’m overwhelmed, and the urge to call my mom and have her take over is so tempting. Then I remember that she wouldn’t care if I dropped dead now that the money is gone.
Curling into a ball on my side, I close my eyes and focus on breathing. In and out. In and out, I allow my world to shrink down to just the air in my lungs, until I’m calm and everything is quiet and still, where it’s just me, alone.
* * *
I’m startled awake by someone hammering on the door to the room. “Penelope, open the fucking door,” Hawthorn growls angrily, his fist banging loudly against the wood.
Blinking awake, I sleepily make my way to the door and quickly unlock it.
Pushing the door open, the moment I turn the lock, he barges into the room, his chest heaving, his eyes dark and furious. “What the fucking hell, Penelope?” he snarls.
“What?” I ask, my voice full of sleep, even though my body is fully awake thanks to his angry invasion.
“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
“I must have fallen asleep,” I say, a hint of anger slipping into my own voice in the face of his fury.
“Bullshit, you’re fucking running again.”
“No, I’m not,” I cry. “I came to get my stuff, sat on the bed, and I fell asleep. It’s not a crime, Hawthorn, it’s a nap.”
“So you weren’t planning on trying to stay here tonight? You were coming home?” he asks, some of the anger leaching from his tone.
“I’m not allowed into my home, and I’ve never been to yours. Was I planning on going back to the boat? Yes, I was,” I snap, annoyed with this conversation.
“What?”
“Nothing, just forget it. Give me a minute to pack up my stuff, and we can go,” I say, sighing as I cross to the bathroom and scan the room, realizing nothing in here is actually mine.
“It’s not nothing, what do you mean you’ve never been to my home? We’ve slept there the last two nights.”
Inhaling sharply, I clench my hands into fists at my sides and spin around to look at him. “We’ve spent the last two nights on your boat.”
“Yeah,” he says with a confused shrug.
“So that’s not your home, it’s the place you take girls to fuck them,” I hiss, pushing past him to the dressing table, gathering up my few possessions and shoving them into my bag.
“Stop,” he demands, and my body complies before my mind can tell him to go and shove his demand up his ass.
“Look at me.”
Grinding my teeth together, I ignore him, opening the dresser and pulling my handful of underwear from inside.
“Penelope, turn the fuck around and look at me.”
I want to fight and disobey him, but there’s just something about the tone of his voice that I simply cannot ignore. Slowly, I pivot around, bracing my hands against the wooden countertop to keep me in place.
“The only women who have set foot on my boat are my mom, your sister, and you. The only woman I’ve ever fucked on my boat is you. The only woman who has ever slept in my bed on my boat is you. Do you see a pattern yet, Princess? The Escape is mine, it’s my favorite place in the world, and I don’t just share that with everyone. At my parents’ house, I’ve fucked girls on the sofas, in the den, in the pool, in my bedroom. If I’d have taken you to my house, it would have been me treating you like you were just another girl. Taking you to my boat and asking you to live there with me, that’s me treating you like you’re mine,” he growls, closing the distance between us in a single stride and cupping my cheeks with his palms.
My anger dissolves like mist and I stare up at him.
“So why are you here instead of at home with me?” he asks, his voice softer now as he crowds me, pushing his chest into me and pressing as much of his body against mine as he can given our height difference.
“I just came to get my stuff.”
His smile is soft and sweet. “And now the real reason.”
Sighing I roll my eyes. “I just needed a minute. So much has happened in the last few days, and I just needed a moment to pause and breathe somewhere quiet.”
“You can’t breathe with me?” There’s a tinge of hurt in his voice, but his eyes just look a little sad.
“When it’s just me and you, then yes, but not with everyone else there too.”
“You could have just told me.”
Shrugging, I bite at my bottom lip, wanting to look away from his compelling eyes but knowing that I can’t, that I don’t really want to.
His lips take mine, startling me with the intensity and desperation of his kiss, and I lose myself and let him find me. “Let’s go home,” he whispers, when he finally releases me.
A soft smile spreads across my lips, and I nod, letting him gather the rest of my things and take me home, to his boat, his favorite place in the world, the place where I’m his.