“I’m not,” I say, swallowing hard. I can’t lie about this. If I do, and Devlin gets hurt—or worse—there’s no going back from that. It might kill me to stay away from him, but there’s no other option now. If I don’t stay away, he’ll literally be killed. Our relationship always existed on borrowed time, and that time has run out. One beautiful month is all we’ll ever get.
“I’ll know if you’re lying,” Royal says.
“I know,” I admit. “Now, if you guys are done, I’m going to take a nap,” I say, leaning back on my pillows.
“Sleep well, Sweetheart,” Dad says, turning away. “You know we’re only trying to protect what’s ours.”
Right. He’s trying to protect his business, his construction site, his new plant. And I’m just lumped in with that because I’m just another thing Daddy owns, something he has that the Darlings don’t.
Royal gives me one long, suspicious look before turning to follow.
King’s been relatively quiet during all this, but he’s watching me. “Want me to send you up something to eat?” he asks.
“I’m not hungry,” I say. “But thanks.”
He lingers in the doorway. “I’ll wake you for dinner.”
“Okay.”
He pauses another moment before pulling the door closed. I want to feel bad for him. I know he wants to make sure I’m okay, that he’s trying to take care of me, but he’s part of all this. He agrees with Dad, with Royal. He will always take the side of the Dolce family, which means when I don’t, he’s the enemy.
I open the window a crack so the damp December air can come in, and then I slide down under the blankets and try to sleep. But I keep coming back to one thing. Devlin was right about my family all along. We really are the bad guys. And if I go along with them, then I’m the bad guy, too.
nineteen
Crystal
I guess what they say is true. Every villain is the hero of their own story.
It’s dark outside. I haven’t moved since they left my room. I faked sleep when it was time for dinner, and now I lie in bed, digging my fingers into the bruises Devlin left on my thighs, craving the ache. It doesn’t come. I feel nothing. I stare at the rain outside my window, wishing I could sink into the bed and let it suffocate me.
A knock sounds at the door, but I don’t answer. I don’t want to see them. They’re all liars and hypocrites and worse. Just like me.
King sticks his head in the door. “Crys, sweetheart? You up?”
“No,” I mutter, turning my face away.
King comes in anyway. He sinks onto the edge of the bed, switches on my lamp, and sets a bowl on my chest. “I brought you ice cream.”
I want to scream at him. Ice cream can’t fix this, can’t even make it better.
“It’s rocky road,” he coaxes.
“I don’t care,” I mutter.
“You can’t wallow forever, sis. Even if you hate us, you still gotta eat.”
I can’t stay mad at King. I can’t. Because he’s the only one who’s come to my room to talk to me. He’s the only one who is trying, and even if he can never make it better, he loves me enough to try, even knowing this paltry little gesture is wasted on me. He knows ice cream isn’t enough. But it’s all he has, so he’s giving it to me.
I sigh and push myself up to sitting. “I don’t hate you,” I say, setting the ice cream in my lap. “You’re a good brother, King. Better than any of us deserve.”
“Shut up and eat your ice cream,” he says, but I can tell he’s pleased. I know, even if he doesn’t show it. That’s the only thing King has ever wanted to be—a protector, a savior, a hero. But even he can’t solve this impossible equation, where the only solution involves everyone getting hurt.
For a minute, I eat my ice cream, and he watches like a mother hen, always taking care of me, making sure I’m fed even when I skip dinner, making sure I’m here and safe even when I’d rather climb out my window and run across the lawn to the boy I love and hate with all my heart. Just thinking about him makes pain twist tight inside me.
“How do you do it?” I ask after a while.
“Do what?” King asks.