But no, she kept rambling on, her trilling floating across the room as she came to sit on the edge of the bed. “Carter’s bringing a friend.”
I stopped breathing. “Who?”
She fumbled with the massive rock on her ring finger. “I’m not sure. They should be here in a few minutes.”
“I can’t do this.” I sighed.
She patted my leg, and I forced myself not to flinch or knock her hand away. “Josie, you have to eat. I know you are not happy with the situation, but you belong at home, with me.”
“And you belong in a mental hospital.” The words hurled out of me, like a sword cutting through the air, intending to hurt.
She lifted her chin, eyes hardening. “We’re not doing this. You will not provoke me. Not tonight. Steven just got home. He is looking forward to seeing you. He missed you. Now get up and get downstairs before I drag you out of your room.”
Ooooh, I wanted to argue. It was exactly what I wanted. To rage and scream at each other. I itched for a fight, like a storm brimming on the surface crackling with lightning before the thunder struck.
“Fine,” I reluctantly agreed. “If it will get you off my back. One dinner, then you leave me alone.”
She rolled her eyes as she stood up. “You don’t have to be so dramatic, Josephine. You act as if I’m the one who hurt you.”
Hadn’t she though? I’d spent my entire life being hurt by her. Living with Angie was like watching a yo-yo tournament. It was also like watching a train wreck.
Candlelight filtered into the hallway from the dining room. As I entered the room, the large table was set with polished silverware and gleaming white plates. Flowers graced a white vase at the center of the table.
“I had the chef prepare Chicken Vesuvio for the main course,” Angie informed, babbling as she weaved her way around the table. “Remember how much you loved it at that little Italian restaurant we used to go to?”
I did remember. “You mean with Dad?” The snappy retort rolled off my tongue.
Her lips pinched and she reached for the glass of wine on the table. “Let’s try to have a nice meal, for my sake.” She pulled her chair out and sat down.
I froze not five paces from the table at the sound of the front door slamming shut. The moment I’d been dredging was here. Carter was home. And he wasn’t alone.
A husky female laugh danced from down the hallway from which I’d just come.
That voice. I knew that fucking voice. Only it was usually sneering, full of sarcasm and nastiness. Still, I wasn’t imagining it.
A combination of sickness and rage came over me in one staggering wave.
That bastard. That goddamn bastard.
My first night home, and he pulled shit like this to get under my skin.
What made it worse was, it worked.
The sound of the two of them laughing sent me into a tailspin.
“Welcome home, sis,” Carter said, his eyes practically glowing with sick amusement. The grin on his lips caused my stomach to pitch.
My gaze shifted to the girl standing at his side. Ava fucking Whitmore. She was thefriendhe brought to dinner.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I spat.
Chapter Sixteen
Dinner was about to get interesting, especially when I leap across the table and tackle a bitch. No one’s life could be this cruel.
Fury licked through my veins as the room fell into a dark void. Mouths were moving, but I heard nothing but the ringing in my ears as I stared at the viper who just slithered into the house.
Bold red curls hung to frame Ava’s pretty face made up to perfection, except for the scratch she tried to cover up on her cheek. A small amount of satisfaction went through me. Other than the barely visible mark, not an eyelash was out of place. No bruises to hide like mine. The black flared skirt was short enough without being slutty and the forest green sweater accentuated the hue of green in her hazel eyes. Angie would love her. This was her idea daughter. Polished. Put together. Worldly.