The Marked Men Series Books 1–6: Rule, Jet, Rome, Nash, Rowdy, Asa. Jay Crownover
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away from him. I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel and picked my phone back up. I stared at it for a solid five minutes with the car running, trying to think of what to say to him and all I came up with was:
I really am sorry; I never meant to hurt you. I should’ve stayed. I really miss you.
I put it away before I made myself crazy seeing if he was going to text anything back and made my way to my parents’ house. The house was more like some kind of elegant mountain chalet than an actual home. Everything past the gates was elegant and expensive, and as I parked and made my way to the front door I remembered how small I felt next to the grandeur. When Remy had come into my life and taken me under his wing, I had taken the opportunity to spend every second I could at the Archers’. For all their faults, they made a home where it was clear people were loved and cared for. Both my mother’s and my father’s homes had none of that; they were filled with servants and showpieces. As I was led into the living room I was struck again by how very much I didn’t want to be here and how if I couldn’t fix things with Rule after this weekend there was a good chance I was going to have to be committed because I just might lose my mind.
My mother in all her refined glory came at me with a critical eye. There was no hug, no “how was your drive?” no “sorry I missed your birthday, sweetie,” just a quick sweep of her ice-cold gaze from the top of my head to the toes of my laced-up leather boots. Her already tight mouth pulled into a frown. “What have you done to your hair, Shaw? It looks dreadful and I hope you brought more appropriate clothes for the country club. We’re going to dinner, not a potluck.”
I was wearing leggings and a long oxford with a wide leather belt that matched my boots. It was way too fancy for a simple car ride home but I had been trying to avoid this exact scene. Once again I had failed to meet her exacting standards. My hands curled tighter around the bag I had refused to give to the maid who’d opened the door. My heart was in my throat—well, actually it was back in Denver currently ignoring me, but that was neither here nor there.
“I assume you and Gabe had time to talk on the way up here?”
“Not really. I’ve told you I don’t have anything left to say to him.”
If it were possible, her mouth pulled into an even tighter frown—she looked like she was sucking on a lemon. My mother was a beautiful woman—I got my fair hair and light coloring from her—but as I looked at her objectively, for possibly the first time in my life, I realized that all that beauty was harsh and encased in so much ice and bitterness that it was hard to see.
“I asked you to stop being ridiculous, young lady. You will be polite and charming this weekend. I will not tolerate any hostility or rudeness directed at Gabe or any of the Davenports, do you understand me?”
From somewhere deep inside me the Shaw that I was when I was with Rule, the Shaw that should have refused to come on this farce of a weekend, raised her head. I flicked the ends of my two-toned hair over my shoulder and brushed past my mother to head to the stairs where my room was located. “You ordered me to be here, Mother, so now you have to deal with that whether you like the outcome or not.” She called something after me in a shrill voice but I tuned her out, calling over my shoulder, “Let me know when you’re ready to leave for dinner.”
I shut the door to the room that had never really felt like mine and let my bag drop on the floor. My mother’s interior designer had done the room in a palette of grays and soft pinks. It was all very lovely, feminine and girly to the max with a million frilly pillows on the bed and even a lacy canopy draped over the white four-poster bed. It was the room a person who wanted to sleep in luxury and be surrounded by million-thread-count sheets would enjoy; for me it had always felt lifeless and dull. There were no personal pictures, no splashes of color, no TV or radio—simply nothing to describe a thing about the person who was supposed to live there. I settled cross-legged on the center of the big bed and sent Ayden a text. She had been acting a little weird since the night she had let Jet take her home from the bar, but she didn’t want to talk about it, and since I was having my own boy drama I didn’t want to fight to drag it out of her.
Wasn’t even in the door two steps before she mentioned my hair and my outfit. So good to be home
That sucks, honey.
Yeah and Rule still won’t text me back.
Ummm …
What?
I don’t know if I should tell you.
Tell me what?
You have to promise not to freak out.
Well now I’m bound to freak out!
Loren was talking about being out last night; she said she saw Rule and the boys at whatever club she was at.
Oh my God …
Yeah, well she mentioned she was going to try to talk to him or whatever because she’s a clueless slut, but he had some redhead hanging all over him. She said she couldn’t even get close to him.
Fuck.
Yeah, well, she also said he left with her, the redhead, I mean. She said the whole gang of them left together and she is a heinous gossip and likes to cause trouble but I figure you should have a heads-up since you can’t get a hold of him.
Thanks.
You okay?
No, not at all.
Want me to hurt him for you?
Maybe. I’ll call you later after I get through this stupid dinner. Love ya, girl.
You, too. xoxo
I swiped a finger across the screen and took a second to hold my breath before letting it out in a furious screech and chucking the expensive device against the wall with a satisfying crunch. I buried my head in my hands and tried to keep from throwing up. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I had had everything I ever wanted for just a few seconds and all it took was one single bump, one tiny disagreement, to screw it all up. It shouldn’t hurt that I was so easily and quickly replaced. I knew Rule, knew how he operated, but I still felt like someone was poking holes in the very fiber of my soul with a scalding-hot poker. Being in love with Rule had never been an easy thing to do, and now that I knew what it was like to actually love him I wasn’t sure how to go back to before.
I spent the rest of the afternoon sequestered in my room. My mother sent one of the staff up to see if I wanted lunch but I refused to answer the door when they knocked. She sent her husband up around five to tell me that we were leaving in an hour for the club, and while a big part of me wanted nothing more than to wear skinny jeans and my motorcycle boots, I decided that having that fight with my mother in front of my half siblings would just make me seem childish and ridiculous, so I put on a long-sleeved white and purple A-line dress that hit me a few inches above my knees and spent a few minutes flat-ironing my hair so that it fell in a slick curtain around my shoulders. I had a pair of purple booties that had spiked heels and little studs on the back that completed the look. It wasn’t exactly picture-perfect country club gear, but it should get me through the front door without too much trouble.
My mother gave me the evil eye as I came down the stairs, and Jack helped me into my gray pea coat. No one said anything as we piled into the family Escalade and headed to the country club. The kids jibber jabbered back and forth and I brooded about Rule and some unknown redhead, hoping it didn’t mean what I thought it did and willed the car to get a flat tire so I could avoid Gabe and his family. It didn’t happen, and when we got to the club and I had to force a smile and let Gabe kiss my cheek and pull out my chair, it literally took every single ounce of willpower I had not to run screaming