I stare at the shape of my legs under the blankets because I can’t speak. I haven’t wanted to admit that truth even to myself. I refuse to watch the video that everyone else in the school has seen a dozen times, the one with Devlin kicking my brother on the ground. It makes Devlin look like a monster, but that’s not the reason I haven’t watched it. I haven’t watched it because I know what happened off screen, behind the cameras, the parts artfully cut by the photographer. And those parts make my brothers look like monsters.
“What are we going to do?” I whisper.
Colt’s hand moves over the top of the blanket until it finds my foot. His fingers close around it and squeeze. “We have to do something,” he says. “Before it goes too far.”
I nod, swallowing hard. A swell of something light and intoxicating builds in my chest. Hope.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s make a truce.”
twenty-one
Some people get respect by earning it, by being the best at something like football or by never betraying what’s right. Others demand it with fear and intimidation. Some people earn their wealth by starting from nothing and doing what has to be done to make something of themselves. Others rest on their family name, on a fortune earned by the sweat of their grandfathers. They can call me a dog, but I won’t bow to the entitled assholes of this world who haven’t earned my submission.
“You feeling better?” Royal asks when I walk into the kitchen. My brothers are slouched in chairs along the bar, a plate of picked-over fruit in the center.
“Fine,” I say, hopping onto a barstool and snagging a glass of orange juice they left for me.
“Guess what?” Duke asks, a big grin spreading across his face.
“Wait,” Royal says, holding up a hand. “How’d you get home?”
I shrug and pop a grape into my mouth. “Dolly gave me a ride.”
“You said Dixie’s friend was giving you a ride home,” Royal says, narrowing his eyes at me. Damn him and his twin instincts, and thank god we don’t have twin telepathy, which I swear Duke and Baron do.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Dixie’s friend Dolly.” I stare at him like he’s crazy even though my heart is hammering. I hate lying to my brothers, especially him. But sometimes it has to be done.
“Dolly Beckett,” King says. “The mayor’s daughter?”
“Yes,” I say, rolling my eyes. “What’s with the inquisition? I told you she was giving me a ride home, and she did. End of story.”
“Why didn’t you just say Dolly was giving you a ride home?” Duke asks. “And by the way, you can let her know she can ride me home any time.”
“And that’s why I didn’t say her name,” I say, shaking my head.
“You can’t be friends with her,” Duke says.
“I’m not.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I’m not gonna be able to hold up my end of the agreement if she’s your friend. I’m sorry, sis, but that ass is just begging for a good Dolce dicking.”
“TMI,” I say, filling my plate with whatever’s left of my brothers’ breakfast. “But you should probably clear it with Dad if you’re going to pump-and-dump the mayor’s daughter. I don’t think that’ll go over too well with Mayor Perv-o Beckett.”
“The mayor can eat my ass,” Duke says. “I’m not afraid of him. He’s the mayor of what? Thirty thousand people? Oh, gosh, I’m shaking in my boots.”
“That clown has no power,” King agrees. “It’s not like he’s the mayor of New York.”
“He’s already helped us all we needed him to,” Baron says, flashing me a grin.
“Wait,” I say, dropping my fork. “Really? That’s what you were going to tell me?”
“Yep,” Duke says, holding up his hand. I slap him five before hopping off the barstool to hug them all.
“We got a tryout,” King says, grinning as he lifts me off the floor and spins me around.
“That’s amazing,” I say honestly. I know how much this means to my brothers. I’m nervous as hell for what I have to do, but maybe they’ll take it better now that they’re in such a good mood.
“I have some good news, too,” I say, resuming my seat. “The Darlings are ready to put all this behind us and make peace.”