Page 46 of Wrecked By You
Ella hadn’t done anything to make me think she was untrustworthy, but that didn’t mean Icouldorshouldtrust her.
“And about Friday,” she said. “It was just a kiss. A very nice kiss, but I can see from the panicked look on your face when you brought it up, that you regret it. And that’s fine. I like you. I’m not going to sit here and lie about that, but nor will what happened between us, or your obvious regret that it did, affect our working relationship.” She smiled. “So chill out, okay?”
This was what I’d hoped for. To put the kiss behind us and move on as if it hadn’t happened.
But if that were true, why did I feel such a crushing disappointment?
***
I arrived home at three in the morning, exhausted but also exhilarated. The night had been a roaring success. All my staff deserved a bonus, and I’d make sure they got one, too. They’d worked their asses off from the minute the doors had opened.
Especially Ella. Wonderful, amazing, funny, sassy, little-miss-organized Ella who’d thought of everything, and more besides. She’d wowed the judge, made him and his wife feel like Hollywood elite, and sent them home happy, and more than a little inebriated. As he’d left, the judge had told me to expect to hear from the committee soon.
I knew what that meant. He was going to put Level Nine through to the final two. A huge achievement.
But I wanted more.
I wanted to win.
No one remembered who came in second. Runner-up wasn’t enough for me to prove to Dad that I’d overcome the challenges of the last six years and made something of my life.
To prove to Dad that I wasn’t a fuckup. I was a Kingcaid. And Kingcaids were winners.
I parked the car in the garage and entered the house via the kitchen. The sound of the TV filtered through from the living room. I froze on the spot. Someone was in the fucking house. I grabbed a knife from the block on the countertop, cursing my inaction in buying and learning how to shoot a gun. After getting jumped by those thugs, I’d considered it but hadn’t ever gotten around to it. And as time had passed, I’d decided not to. I wasn’t a huge fan of firearms.
Fuck.
I crept down the hallway on the balls of my feet and peered into the living room, knife held aloft.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
My younger brother, Penn, and his fiancée, Gia, were curled up on my couch, watching a black-and-white Bette Davis movie. The two of them looked at me standing there holding a butcher’s knife aloft, and they laughed.
They fucking laughed.
“Easy, soldier,” Gia said. “All you need is one of thoseScreammasks, and it’d be like a live-action replay of the movie.”
“Nah, he’s nowhere near cool enough to pull that off,” Penn said.
I fizzed with rage, my hand gripping the hilt until my knuckles whitened. I’d never come so close to punching my brother, and by God, I’d come close over the years.
“Did iteveroccur to you that coming home in the middle of the night and hearing you in my fucking house might’ve triggered me? You’re assholes. Both of you.”
I whipped around and marched back to the kitchen. Ramming the knife into the block, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass and filled it halfway. My heart rate wouldn’t slow, and my stomach had tied itself in knots. I knocked back the whiskey in one swallow, then refilled my glass. My hand trembled, a sign of weakness I fucking hated. I clutched the glass hard enough to break it.
Penn appeared in the doorway, Gia hovering behind him looking the tiniest bit remorseful. Unusual for her. Gia was a free spirit who gave zero fucks. She rocked on her heels and dug Penn in the arm, prompting him to speak.
“Sorry, man. I should’ve thought. Didn’t you get my text?”
“What fucking text?”
“The one I sent you saying we were going to stop by on the way back from seeing Mom and Dad in Seattle and should be here by eleven.”
“I’ve been busy.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and navigated to the messaging app. Sure enough, there it was, unread. A message from Penn sent at five o’clock yesterday evening. “I missed it. You should’ve seen I hadn’t opened it, you prick.”
“When you weren’t here, we let ourselves in.” Penn held up a key. “I have a spare, remember?”
We all had spare keys to each other’s places just in case there was an emergency.