Page 9 of The Monster I Am
The thought alone makes me angry. Bexley was right. Itwassomeone from Willowbrook who started this mess.
I was too hasty dismissing her suspicions. If I had just stopped and taken it seriously, maybe we could have avoided all this.
We took too long to let go of the feud and focus our attention where it was needed. It’s our fault for being distracted, wasting precious time on stupid pranks and being obsessed with breaking Bexley.
She was never going to break. I can see that now.
Hindsight really is a bitch.
God, it was fun trying, though. Just not in the way I originally thought it would be.
“You don’t normally run this early,” Tai points out. “I assume Max is being an ass.”
I nod. “He’s been hounding me all week. Never misses an opportunity to remind me that I’m his biggest disappointment. I just didn’t have it in me to listen to it so early.”
Tai gives me a crestfallen frown. “Dad yelled at Soph last night. Told her to shut up and stop crying.”
“What?” I snap angrily, welcoming the change of topic regarding my own sperm germ.
“Yep. We nearly exchanged blows. Mary stepped in before I could take a swing at him.”
I shake my head. “I’m surprised there haven’t been more fights this week.”
“Should we arrange for fights tonight?” Tai asks hesitantly.
Pausing, I shrug dismissively. “It would feel weird not having Bexley there. Especially after the last fight night.”
“Still strange we went from Hunter kidnapping Bexley to her saving him.”
A small smile touches my lips. “No, it’s not,” I tell him. “I knew that was there. You idiots just couldn’t see the real Bex.”
Tai lets out a defeated sigh. “This is messed up, Ry. Something bad is going to go down. I can feel it.”
“Let’s hope not,” I answer, unlocking my truck. “We won’t be able to control it at the moment if it does.”
“I’ll meet you at school,” Tai deflects, clearly uneasy at the thought too. “I’m going to swing back home and pick up Soph so she doesn’t have to deal with that asshole.”
For the first time in my life, the day finishes too quickly.
I had wistfully hoped that when I got back home, I’d be alone and could self-destruct in peace. But as usual, I was wrong.
“Rylan,” my father greets sternly, waiting by the staircase. “My office. Now.”
There’s a threat to his demand, voice riddled with hostility and disgust. I’m left with no choice, fist clenching the strap of my bag as I follow him to his office.
He drags out the encounter, taking his time to sit down behind his desk, letting the silence hang uncomfortably between us. Finally, he cups his hands together, shooting me a cold glare.
“The accountant has brought some disturbing information to my attention,” he starts, eyes narrowing. “Care to explain yourself?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
It’s not a lie, per se. It could be any number of things I’ve done. I learned from a young age to let him lead the conversation.
Like a true politician, my father is good at catching you out in lies. He can twist words better than anyone I know, and chances are, he already knows the truth before you admit it. He just loves to watch you squirm, see what you’ll admit when you crack under pressure.
It’s better to let him fill in the blanks rather than admitting to something that might not even be on the agenda.
I receive the infamous Max Astor scowl, eyebrow shooting up as he reaches for a nearby folder that’s conveniently at the ready.
