“I’m not getting into anything,” I say. “I’m already in it.”
“Gramps will never let it happen.”
“He’s not going to ruin my life like he tried to do with my parents.”
“That’s exactly what he’s going to do,” Preston says. He has some special insight into Grampa Darling. Not only is he the favorite, but his mind works the same way. I wish I could have done more to get him out from under our grandfather’s thumb, but what was I supposed to do? I was a kid just like him when Grampa singled him out, and his dad was a hundred fucking percent on board with grooming Preston to take over the business.
“We’ll figure something out,” I mutter, pulling up beside the Benz in the garage.
“More pussy for me,” Colt sings, hopping out of the car without using the door, as usual. “Let me go give my second mom a kiss, and then I’ll hit the party with you, Pres.”
Colt has a strange bond with the woman who should have been his mom, the woman who’s not actually related to either of us, though you’d never know by the way she smothers us.
“Slip her some tongue for me,” Preston calls after him as Colt goes bounding into my house, his middle finger held high for us.
“The only guy who can talk about getting pussy and kissing his mother in the same breath,” I say, shaking my head.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Preston asks.
“No fucking clue,” I admit, throwing the brake and getting out of the car. “I just know I can’t stop doing it. And I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t,” Preston says, getting out of the car and taking my keys. He rests a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Just know where it ends, Dev. You got one semester left. High school is ours. We can do whatever the fuck we want. Once it ends, that’s the real world, and no one gets to do what they want out there.”
“This is Darling country,” I say. “We should be able to do what we want.”
“If every Darling did whatever the fuck they wanted, it wouldn’t be Darling country anymore,” Preston says. “There’s a system. You follow the system, and things stay the way they are. That’s what keeps us at the top. You buck the system, and it all falls apart.”
“I know,” I say, slumping against the car. “But don’t you ever question why it is the way it is? Why it needs to stay that way? If maybe it’s time the system changed?”
“No,” Preston says, dropping his hand from my shoulder. “There’s no point.”
Colt emerges from the house, jogging down the back steps and striding over.
“Have fun at the party,” I say, pushing off the Ferrari.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Preston says, circling the front end to climb into the driver’s seat. “You got a few months left.”
I wave and head for the house. He’s right. We all play our parts. If this thing our parents built is a house of cards, then we’re each essential. Take one card out, and the whole castle falls. I don’t want that for my family. They’ve worked hard to build this, and it would be selfish to knock the whole thing down. My job is to marry the daughter of the mayor, and one day become the mayor—not to fall for the seductive curves and pit bull heart of the sexy little mobster’s daughter next door.
But I already know it’s too late.
In the house, I find my parents in the kitchen where we eat, Mom sitting sideways across Dad’s lap with her arms around his neck.
“I’m home,” I call, heading for the fridge. I grab a couple ice packs and the plate of food Lucinda left me, which I toss in the microwave to heat up. Crystal’s on her way, but it’ll take her a few minutes to get away from her family and get a ride home. Just one more thing that frustrates the hell out of me. I want to be the one to take her home at night. But word would get back to her brothers, and I don’t want her to get any more shit from her family than she already does. If my family is controlling, hers is a fucking prison.
“How’s your arm?” Dad asks as I sit down with them a minute later.
“Fine,” I say, tearing into my food. “Just need to ice it for a few minutes.”
“Skipping the postgame party?” Mom asks.
I shrug. “Didn’t feel like it tonight.”
“Mm?” she says noncommittally, but I don’t miss the raised eyebrows as she and Dad exchange a look.
“Anything on your mind, son?” Dad asks.
“No,” I say, biting off a mouthful of chicken. “Some things are more important than partying.”