CHAPTER 25 Miles
Miles
“Clementine? Clementine?”
I storm through the front doors at Burlington and march down the corridor, throwing open every door to check she’s not behind them. When I reach the kitchen and come up empty again, I turn back.
Crossing the great hall, I head toward the opposite wing of the house.
“Clementine! Where the fuck are you?”
Peering into Lando’s study, I find him sitting at his desk.
“Have you seen—”
“Oh, good,” he says, totally oblivious to my obvious agitation. But that’s my big brother for you. Oblivious. “I was just about to message you. Don’t forget it’s Holiday’s opening night on Tuesday, and we’re all going.”
“What?”
“Holiday’s opening night? Tuesday.”
“Right. Fine.” Whatever. “Have you seen Clementine?”
He shakes his head and goes back to whatever he’s working on. Now that he’s passed on his message, he has no use for me.
“Not in the last half hour.” He gives me one final glance, and I’m sure he’s going to ask me to close the door, but instead, his head tilts. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
But he doesn’t buy it. Getting up, he circles his desk, grabs my shoulder, and guides me into the chair in front of his desk. It’s the one I sat in when I told him I’d married Ruby.
“Milo, what’s wrong?” he tries again, taking the chair next to me instead.
I sigh deeply and stare at him. The bright blue eyes of our father—the ones we all inherited—stare back, and I search to see if there's any semblance of recognition as to why I am looking for our sister.
It's bad enough that Hendricks has been keeping this secret from me since February. But if I found out that every member of my family was keeping me in the dark about whatever this fucking situation is, I’d really lose my shit.
“Do you know?”
“Know what?”
To give him credit, he looks as confused as he usually does whenever he's dealing with me. For the most part, Lando gets on and manages his own shit. He's too busy with the day-to-day Burlington world, while the rest of us implode around him with “trivial problems” as he once called them.
But this isn’t trivial.
“About Clementine,” I say.
“What about Clementine?” He frowns, annoyed. “I don’t know what Clementine does with her days since she graduated.”
“About her and Torres.” God, even saying the words aloud makes me want to punch something, hard.
“Who?”
“Lando, will you please fucking pay attention to me for once? Santiago Torres—”
“I know who he is. I don’t know what you’re asking me, though.”
“Did you know Hendricks saw Clementine and Torres at the Valentine’s Day match?”
Lando's brow creases, and he stands, perches on the corner of his desk, and crosses his arms. It's a move so similar to our father’s that for a second, I can't breathe.
“Milo, I think you need to start from the beginning, because I haven’t got the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”
God, this is pointless.
“It doesn’t matter.” I move to stand, desperate to find my sister before I completely lose my shit, but Lando reaches out and pushes me back in my chair.
“Well, it clearly does matter if it’s got you this upset. Sit the fuck down and tell me what’s going on.”
Before I can answer, doors clatter somewhere down the corridor. Footsteps thunder closer.
Hendricks’s voice echoes off the hard floors. “Milo? Miles, where are you?”
“In here!” Lando calls out.
The door crashes back against the wall as Hendricks pushes it harder than necessary, sprinting in, followed closely by Ruby. She rushes straight over to me, takes my hand, and drops onto her knees. There’s so much worry on her face, which I’ve caused, and guilt pushes past my anger.
I know Lando’s watching the entire interaction, but I don’t care.
“I’m sorry I left you.” I drop my forehead against her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, fingers pushing into my hair. “We’ll figure out what’s going on.”
“Great,” Lando mutters. “And would someone like to fill me in while you’re at it?”
Hendricks ignores him, pulling me from the chair and into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Milo. I should’ve told you sooner. I really thought Clem was going to—”
“Can someone please explain what the fuck is happening?”
Hendricks eyes him. “I don’t know everything.”
“Then start with what you do know.”
“I tanked in the Hampshire tournament.”
“I heard.” Lando's voice softens. Reaching out his hand, he squeezes my shoulder, which makes me feel marginally better. “Sorry, Milo.”
“I tanked because Torres was there. I saw him the first morning, and I couldn't get him out of my head. I wasn't expecting to see him there, and he caught me off guard—”
“Okay—” Lando nods.
“As we were leaving the last game, he told me to say hello to Clementine.”
There’s silence as Lando’s brain whirrs.
“He’s fucking with you.”
I shrug and look at Hendricks to pick up the rest of the story, something I rushed off too quickly to get to the bottom of.
“At the Valentine’s Day charity match, I saw Clementine and Torres together.”
Lando doesn’t blink. He just stares at Hendricks, then me. Then back at Hendricks.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“What do you mean together?”
“They were arguing.” He shrugs and rubs along his brow.
Keeping this secret has clearly been weighing on him, and he drops his head with a shake.
“They were arguing, but not like strangers. It was intimate. I remember thinking at the time it was like . . .” He hesitates. “Like they were having an affair.”
Lando bursts out laughing, even though he’s as confused as we are.
“You’re taking the piss, aren’t you? There’s literally no way .
. .” He laughs like it’s the funniest joke we’ve ever told and pushes off the desk.
“Clementine and Torres, get the fuck out of here . . . how would they even . . . ?” He stops again, his brain working too fast for him to catch up with questions that none of us have the answer to. “No, you must have been mistaken.”
“I confronted her,” Hendricks says.
“And?”
He shakes his head. “She doesn’t deny it. Every time I ask her, she tells me to go fuck myself.”
Lando rubs a hand over his face. “I can’t even imagine how she would’ve met him.”
“We’re going to find out.” I look down as Ruby squeezes my hand.
It’s so reassuring that I’m not going crazy, even though I’ve doubted it many times over the last week. It’s also not bypassed me how fucking weird it is that out of any other time, that's the weekend our paths could have crossed.
That she was there when I had my accident.
Because she was on her way to Santiago Torres.
I wonder what I would have thought of her.
I’d have wanted to fuck her, that’s for sure.
My thoughts briefly flit to Agatha of all people, because she would say Ruby and I were saved from meeting until we were ready.
I will take it to the grave that I even came close to agreeing with her on something.
My eldest brother shakes his head again, still grappling with what none of us can wrap our heads around. Yet I believe Hendricks.
“We were here, Milo . . . me, Al, and Clem. We looked after Max, while Hen and Mum flew to you.”
I still. Visions flash through my brain of the only things I remember in those twenty-four hours while the doctors assessed the damage. The first thing I saw when I was brought out of the coma was Hendricks. He never left my side.
“Something's going on, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.”
Hendricks suddenly cranes his neck toward the study windows. “Shit. There she is.”
We all rush to see Clementine walking across the back lawn carrying a basket of eggs. I’m already moving before anyone else reacts, but the rest of the group is hot on my heels. It’s an unintentional ambush as we grind to a halt in the great hall just as she steps through the doors.
“Oh hey—” She scans the four of us, and the color drains from her face.
And I know Hendricks is telling the truth. What’s more, she knows that I know.
“You bastard,” she snarls at him, pulling the metaphorical gloves off.
She wants a fight? She’s got one.
“Don’t blame Hendricks,” I roar. “He kept your dirty little secret for months. How could you, Clem?”
Her eyes narrow and her chest heaves while she tries to come up with a satisfactory answer to explain this away. Spoiler: She can’t.
Before I can continue, Lando cuts in, his tone far gentler than mine. And it sets her bottom lip in a tremble.
“Clementine. Is it true? You and Santiago Torres?”
She peers around at the four of us, her cheeks flush, and her eyes grow so wide that tears spill over. “I didn’t know, Miles.”
It’s a sucker punch. My worst nightmare come true, not that I could have ever conceived of this as a reality. “You’d better start talking.”
“I didn’t know who he was when I met him.”
“How could you not know?”
Her voice is quiet when she replies, “Because I met him before your accident—”
“It wasn’t an accident,” I snap. “It was an attempted assassination.”
Immediately, her demeanor changes. “Stop being melodramatic.”
“He deliberately crossed my line. It was a dirty play from a dirty player,” I spit. “He’s a piece of shit. In case you forgot, I had to retire Feather after she fell on me, she was so fucking traumatized.”
She holds my glare, and her shoulders drop. She hasn’t forgotten. She used to visit Feather at Foxleigh all the time, but come to think of it, I haven’t seen her there in a while, and maybe her guilt is why. It sets me off again.
“So?” I demand. “You met him before, and then what? That was two years ago? Three? Hendricks saw you with him this year.”
She turns her silent death glare on to Hendricks before returning to her attempt to murder me with her mind.
“Well . . .”
“Fuck you, Miles.”
I’m actually incredulous. Even when I saw her walking through the door, there was a big part of me that didn’t believe it could be true. “Clementine, are you seeing Santiago Torres?”
“You’re a sanctimonious prick—”
“What?”
“Will both of you shut the fuck up?” Lando’s roar echoes around the hall so violently I’m surprised the windows don’t rattle. He turns back to Clementine. “If Miles’s accident was two years ago, then what’s happened since?”
“Nothing,” she says. “I ended everything with him—”
“So, you called it off, and now you’re fucking him again?” I counter.
Bile churns in my belly. The idea of Clementine having sex is nauseating enough, but doing it with that disgusting tattooed wannabe Mafia prick is sending me over the edge.
“I haven’t been fucking him at all, Miles. I’m not you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We don’t all need to fake a marriage to find a relationship. We all know you’re going to go back to fucking anyone who moves when things end with Ruby because you’re incapable of commitment.”
Ruby visibly shrinks, like she’s been slapped. My jaw grinds. But what are siblings for except to twist the knife exactly where it hurts the most?
I huff out a dry, humorless laugh. “A relationship with Torres—”
“Miles, enough,” Lando snaps again. “If you’re going to keep interrupting, then go and wait outside.”
“I’m staying right here, thank you very much.”
“Then shut up,” he pleads, and looks at Clementine, urging her to continue. “What happened at the Valentine match?”
“He wanted to see me,” she replies, like it’s so simple when it’s anything but.
My head throbs, and I make a poor attempt at rubbing the ache away. He’s coerced her, that’s what’s happened. She’s a victim. She’s searching for a father figure because the four of us didn’t do a good enough job of being the man in her life.
Or he’s after her money.
“Clementine, do you need a restraining order? Arthur can arrange for one today.”
From the way her lip curls, it was the wrong thing to say. “Don’t you dare.”
“I’m with Miles on this one,” Lando says. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“A big girl wouldn’t screw me over.”
“I haven’t done anything, Miles,” she yells back, and more tears spill over.
“Well, you've been doing something.” My jaw tightens as something dawns on me. “Was it you? Did you tell him where I was? Is that why he came to Hampshire?”
Clementine’s face twists in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“He came to fuck with me, Clementine. That’s what he does.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
I throw my hands in the air. “You don’t even know him. You’re utterly delusional, Clementine.”
“No, Miles, I’m not. I know him . . .” She cracks. “I love him, and he loves me.”
My eyes roll thick and heavy. “Oh please. Spare me the Romeo and Juliet reenactment and leave the theatrics up to Holiday.”
“Fuck you. What would you know about love?”
If possible, her words echo around the hall longer than anything else we’ve yelled today. Everyone’s staring, and no one knows what to say.
My head pounds. Clementine’s chest heaves with emotion, her cheeks blotchy and wet.
I nod. And I’m suddenly totally defeated. Heartbroken.
It doesn’t matter what I tell her, because she’s not hearing me.
I step toward her. “For what it’s worth, Clem, when he breaks your heart, I won’t say I told you so.”
And I walk out, leaving her standing with her basket of eggs.