Chapter thirteen Bexley
Chapter thirteen
Bexley
For someone who vehemently detests running, I’m certainly giving my cardio skills a bit of a workout. But running from reality is easy. Well, sometimes.
Right now, though? I’m a fucking track star.
“I love you, Bex…”
I’ve managed to avoid Rylan since yesterday. Shamefully, I even ditched school, which in turn led to some uncomfortable text messages from Archie checking up on me.
I’m not sure who was more surprised when I told him the truth. Perhaps we’ll call it a draw.
Hiding under my blanket, this is my way to avoid face-to-face interactions. But how do you run from words?
The whole conversation keeps playing over and over in my head. For someone who prides themselves on seeing everything and always being one step ahead, I was completely blindsided.
Worst of all, I feel guilty on so many levels.
I know how hard it would have been on Rylan to confess that particular morsel of information.
And to leave him hanging… I can only hope he doesn’t hate me after this.
But words are like weapons. They cut deep, sometimes leaving permanent marks.
I didn’t know what to say back. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing or lie.
So, I said nothing at all.
The truth is I have no idea what I’m feeling. Everything would be far easier if I did.
There’s no denying I care for him. Hell, it’s more than just surface level, well beyond gratitude for the peace he brings to my life among the chaos.
The problem here is me.
I don’t know what love is. The concept—sure. I wish I could blame it on being young and naive. But it’s not exactly a well-kept secret that I don’t have a proper functioning heart. It’s a consequence of growing up in a broken home—something I’m reminded about too often.
The few memories I have of love are linked to familial ties that are shadowed and tainted by grief or loss. No one has ever modeled healthy relationship dynamics in front of me—at least not when my brain needed to witness and absorb it.
I know my father loved her once upon a time, just like I know he loved me. Despite everything leading us to believe that love conquers all, it’s just not true.
Sometimes, love isn’t enough.
And sometimes, you can love someone and still break them until they become unrecognizable.
If I allow myself to believe Rylan—because trust me, I really want to—how can I be certain that he’s not going to hurt me?
Letting people in is hard. Trust is a one-time deal and must be earned. But I can’t move past the fact that not so long ago, he hated me. Not just hate… but despised to the point where I was an object he wanted to toy with and break.
He wanted to ruin me.
Now that concept I am all too familiar and experienced in.
I’m not strong enough to let love rip me apart. There’s no instruction manual to put pieces of broken hearts and souls back together.
And the hardest truth to admit is that I crave it.
I want to feel love, to be more than just a name. I want someone to look at me like the sun shines out of my rectal cavity and be the reason they are happy. Unconditionally, though. Not for protection, or friendship, or out of loyalty.
Just for… me. Love me without strings attached.
And I don’t know if I deserve it.
There’s four unread messages from Rylan sitting in my inbox and I swear my ass cheeks clench in fear that I’ll accidentally open our chat and notify him whenever I go to respond to Arch.
Tai has been messaging too and, bless his heart, he’s also been left on the dreaded unread. I have no idea if he knows about Rylan’s confession but I might actually lose my shit if he does and suddenly this is a tag team world championship event and I have two declarations to stress over.
Wow—is that vain of me or what?
I let out a meek, pathetic sound when my phone starts ringing, but quickly exhale with relief at the sight of Soph’s name flashing on the screen.
“... Hello?” I answer slowly, full of suspicion.
“Hey, cutie pie,” she replies. “Did you really ditch me today? I fully had plans to convince you to tag along to the beach this weekend.”
“Beach?” I ask, amused. “Since when does Willowbrook have a beach?”
“Oh, don’t give me that bologna,” Soph says. “We all know I’m your ride-or-die and you’ll share the beach with me. I’m super keen to try out my new bathing suit. And I might be looking for an excuse to get out of this house.”
I sigh heavily, shuffling to get comfortable on the bed. “Your dad's still being an asshole?”
“Yep,” she confirms. “And Tai said something about Ry’s dad coming over since he’s back from his work trip. So, it’s either beach or breakdown. I don’t have the energy this close to finals to spiral. That requires at least seven business days' notice.”
“Valid,” I agree. “Beach, it is.”
“Thank you. Now, why didn’t I see your pretty face today?
My brother has been insufferable because of it.
Frankly, Bexley Spencer, you should be thinking of me.
If I murder your boyfriend, I make no apologies.
” Pausing, she snorts before continuing, “Unless you need me to specify which boyfriend I mean?”
I bury my head into the bed with a groan. “Don’t start that again.”
Soph cackles quietly. “It’s my official job as sister-in-law to taunt you. It’s our love language. Though,” she trails off, suddenly making a gagging noise. “I think it’s yours and theirs too. Shit—am I the problem here? No, no. Definitely not. Tai is the problem.”
“Pretty sure I’m the common denominator,” I grumble. “But that’s why I’m in hiding.”
“What?” Her voice is tight, sharp. “Did they do something to you? I swear to the Kindle Gods I’ll wrangle their ball sacks and tie them into pretty little bows if they have.”
I sit up, tucking my legs criss-cross applesauce under me. Full attention is needed for this next part.
“Rylan told me he loved me yesterday.”
Dead silence.
And some more.
I actually pull the phone away from my ear to check she’s still on the line, silently half-hoping that the call dropped out and she didn’t hear it.
“Holy shit,” she whispers. “You’re in full crisis mode. That makes sense. I’d totally do the same. Do I need to pack a bag? I can be there in ten minutes to smuggle you across state lines.”
“I appreciate the kidnapping plot but I don’t think this is something I can run from,” I say begrudgingly. “I’m just freaking out.”
The sound of jingling metal reaches my ears. “I’m on the way. We need an emergency girls’ night. Do you want me to grab Abby?”
“She’s with Arch,” I tell her. “Let’s leave the two normal lovebirds alone. I’m too much of a natural disaster to ruin their little bubble.”
The door swings open before I even have a chance to reach it, and for a brief moment, I enter survival mode, nearly smacking Soph with the comfort pillow I carry out from the bedroom.
“Girl, what!?” She yells, and I’m not sure if she’s referring to my attack or our phone call.
“Fuck me. I left the door unlocked.”
Great—I officially have the survival skills of a wet fart. I would not hold up well in a horror movie.
Soph makes a big gesture of locking it, swishing her arms toward the door like she’s presenting the next showcase on The Price is Right.
“I have half a block of cheese and a bag of old Easter eggs.” She digs into her tote bag, lifting them up to show me. “Mary was out walking the pups so I couldn’t ask her if I could steal any food. In hindsight, I should have anyway and just blamed Tai.”
“Mary’s too good to be dragged into my mess,” I reply, taking the chocolate from her. “Just how old are these?”
Soph tilts her head in thought. “Maybe from last year. But hey—if they have gone bad, I’ve probably bought you another day off school. You’re welcome.”
“You’re joking and yet I’m still partly on board with the idea.”
She follows me into the living room, the two of us sitting on the sofa. We face each other, crossing our legs and dumping the food in the middle.
“So, Astor loves you, eh?” Soph grins. “Never thought I’d see the day, let alone with someone from Cedar Heights.”
I unwrap a chocolate egg and inspect it. “It’s a horror story. And I’m the stupid lead character who leaves doors unlocked with serial killers around,” I murmur, shoving the sweet into my mouth.
Soph leans her side against the back of the couch. “I suppose that explains Liv today.”
I stare at her expectedly, but she just smirks, refusing to elaborate.
“Don’t make me beg,” I growl at her. “Tell me the juicy details.”
“Well!” Soph dives in straight away with a grin, plopping her elbow into the couch and resting her head against the palm of her hand.
“Jacqueline from my economics class heard her screaming at Sierra and Peyton in the bathroom. Then, cheer practice was canceled. Like, I don’t think you get how big of a deal that is.
Liv never cancels. The only time it’s ever happened is when she had an emergency nail appointment after breaking one.
But I stalked her to check. All nails were attached to her slimy body. ”
I snort. “You’re making the assumption that Liv knows something. We were alone. As much as I’d love to take the credit for a Liv meltdown, I’m fairly certain she’s just having a tantrum.”
Soph cocks a knowing eyebrow. “Did I forget to mention that Jacqueline heard her say that Rylan is a fucking idiot and pussy drunk?”
“Pussy what—” I shake my head. “First off, ew. Second—that still wouldn’t make sense. Surely, I’d know if she knew something.”
“Well, has Rylan said anything?” She asks.
Grimacing, I shamefully look down. “I haven’t opened his messages. But if things were being said, I’d hear it from Arch.”
“Not if it’s still confined to Willowbrook mouths,” Soph says, raising a good point.
“This sounds like a tomorrow problem to investigate,” I mumble, shoving the pillow over my face. “It doesn’t exist today. I need a day to spiral.”
“Lucky for you, spiraling is my favorite hobby.”
It’s well and truly dark when Soph finally leaves, the leftover chocolate still sitting on my couch as a sympathetic sorry you’re stressed over something stupid present.
I tidy up a little before deciding it’s time to just give up, take a hot shower, and call it a night to avoid being alone with my mind any longer. But before I can venture too far down the hallway, a knock on the door freezes me.
Shiiiiiiiiit.
What do I do? What if it’s Rylan coming to demand answers? I don’t trust myself not to crack if he flashes his baby blues at me.
Best case scenario it’s Lannister in a mood. Sparring sounds like a fun idea to blow off steam.
I suppose I could always ignore it. Yep—that’s what I’m going to do. It’s late so I can always pretend I’m already asleep and didn’t hear the door.
Dread and horror rolls through me because as I turn to tiptoe to my bedroom, the front door clicks open behind me.
I know I locked the door. I double checked after walking Soph out.
Spinning around, my heart pounds in my chest at the sight of a dark figure standing outside the doorway in the shadows.
Immediately, I can tell it’s not one of the guys from the person’s physique, and my fists curl defensively until a familiar face steps inside.
“Ms. Spencer,” he says coldly. “I wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but we both know I wouldn’t be speaking the truth.”
What the fuck is Max Astor doing in my house?