“Thanks for the ringing endorsement,” I grumble, but we both know she’s right. Trouble is my middle name. “Maybe I should call her.”
“And say what?”
“I’m sorry?”
Ella shoots me an annoyed look. “Seriously? You haven’t said that yet? That’s the first thing you should’ve done!”
“Maybe I did.” I think back and then grimace. “I don’t remember.”
“Then, yeah, I think you should call her and tell her you’re sorry.” Ella shakes her head a few times, as if she can’t believe she’s sharing the same space as such a moron. “In fact, buy some flowers and go to her house and tell her you were stupid and thoughtless and a jackass and that every bad thought she’s ever had about you is true, but please don’t take it out on Hartley.”
I wince. “All of that?”
“Yes,” Ella replies sternly. “All of it.”
“Fine.” I curse ungraciously and launch myself off the bed. At the door, I turn around. “I still prefer the idea of you beating her up.”
Ella throws a pillow at me. “I’m not beating her up!”
I head downstairs and jog outside to my truck. At the end of the driveway, though, I find myself turning left instead of right.
I didn’t like the way Hartley ran off. What if her parents are at her house, yelling at her? She probably needs moral support.
I decide to check on Hartley first and hit up Felicity on my way back.
I swing by a gas station and buy a pint of ice cream along with a couple of sodas and popcorn. At the check-out, I throw in two candy bars. There’s a bucket of single roses at the front and I throw one of those on top, too.
“Pissed someone off, did you?” the clerk says as he rings me up.
“How’d you guess?”
“This is the ‘I’m sorry’ starter package,” he jokes.
I snicker. Technically, only the flower is part of my apology to Felicity, but I’m still curious enough to ask, “What’s the success rate of the starter package?”
“Depends on the scale of your wrong. Big wrong requires big apology.”
I grab the rest of the flowers. “Let’s go big, then.”
He swipes my card. “Good luck,” he says.
From the tone of his voice, it’s clear he thinks I’m gonna fail.
Ten minutes later, I park in front of Hartley’s house and kill the engine. I grab the bag of goodies and three of the flowers—Felicity doesn’t need all of them—then climb the rickety stairs two at a time. I’m raising my hand to knock on the door when I hear voices.
“Whatever you hoped to accomplish before isn’t going to happen now. Daddy’s been ranting for the past hour.”
I freeze. Oh shit. That’s Parker. I glance over the railing to see where I missed her Mercedes, but it’s nowhere to be seen. She either parked down the street or took an Uber.
“I didn’t do it,” Hartley says flatly.
“You are always so full of excuses,” Parker scoffs. “I didn’t mean to spy on you, Daddy. I didn’t mean to ruin your campaign. I didn’t mean to embarrass this whole family. I didn’t mean to ruin the family.”
Silence falls.
Hartley doesn’t respond. I guess there’s nothing she can say to make Parker believe in her.
I almost knock. I almost barge in. I almost try to reason with Parker.
But something, some divine force, stops me from doing any of that.
I swallow, trying to force air past the rock that’s appeared in my throat. This is my fault. I got drunk and embarrassed a girl I knew better than to mess with, a girl whose claws naturally came out in retaliation. I was a thoughtless jackass. And I’d be even more thoughtless if I got in the middle of Hartley’s family feud.
I need to fix this with Felicity. That’s my only play here. Once I fix it, Hartley will be able to get back into her family’s good graces and then it’ll be smooth sailing for the two of us.
I can fix this. I can.
Chapter 27
The next day at school, everyone is talking about Hartley’s suspension. You’d think nobody at Astor Park Prep had ever been busted for something before. The thing is, Hartley didn’t deserve to get busted—she didn’t do a damn thing wrong, and the person who did is strolling down the hall like she’s the queen of Astor.
I catch Felicity before first period. She’s at her locker with her girl crew. Luckily, Claire’s nowhere to be seen. Good. I hate the idea of my ex getting all chummy with Felicity. Who knows what Claire has on me. I was drunk a lot when we went out.
“Leave,” I bark at Felicity’s friends.
My expression must tell them I mean business, because they scurry off like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Felicity remains, looking amused.
“Well, aren’t you the tough guy, scaring away all the innocent girls,” she mocks.
I scowl at her. “There’s nothing innocent about any of you.”
Rolling her eyes, she slams her locker door. I grab her forearm before she can march away.
“Did you get the flowers?” I grumble. I’d swung by her house on my way home from Hartley’s, but nobody answered the door, so I left the flowers on the porch.
“Yes. I did.”
“And the note?” I left that, too. A note with three simple words: I’m sorry – Easton. “Did you read it?”
“Yes.”
“And? Are we cool now?”
She starts laughing. “Wait. You thought that sad excuse for an apology would make us cool? Oh, Easton.”
Frustration jams in my throat. “For fuck’s sake, Felicity. What you did to Hartley was not right.”
“Are you seriously going to lecture me about right and wrong? You, Easton Royal?”
“Yeah, I’m a total shit,” I readily agree. “I’m a bad, selfish person. I drink and I fight and I screw girls I shouldn’t screw. I’ll own that. But Hartley didn’t do anything to you. So, please, just tell Beringer that the cheating thing was a total misunderstanding and—” I halt, because I realize I’m wasting my breath.
Felicity will never confess to planting those notes in Hartley’s locker. That would mean admitting she set up a fellow classmate, and risking punishment herself. So as much as I don’t want to, I have to let this go. Hartley got a three-day suspension. That sucks, but she’ll survive and she’ll be back at school on Monday. The “exonerate Hartley” ship has sailed. All I can do now is wave a white flag at Felicity before she does any more damage.
“How can I make this right with you?” I ask through clenched teeth.
Her blue eyes take on a disbelieving glint. “You can’t.”
“Come on,” I plead. “There’s got to be something I can do.” She directs a pointed glare at my bracelet. I fight the urge to cover it. “Something I can buy you,” I clarify.
“Like a Candy Machine necklace?”
“Done.”
“How about the limited edition Dior bag?”
“I have no fucking clue what that is, but it’s yours.”
“It’s thirty-five thousand.” Somehow she manages to look down her nose at me.
I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to the family accountants, but okay. “Great. Every girl needs a limited edition purse.” I stick out my hand. “It’s a deal. When Hartley comes back, she’s off limits.”
“No.”
“What?”
“There is no deal. This is payback, and I’m not done yet.”
Her icy stare, combined with the tiniest of smirks on her lips, makes me want to slam my fist into a locker. I can’t believe she stood there negotiating about jewelry and purses just to shoot me down. Is it only Astor girls who carry out vendettas, or are all chicks this bloodthirsty?
“If you want me to beg, I’ll beg. On my knees.”
Felicity’s smile widens. “That’d be nice to see. But…no, thank you. I have even nicer things planned.”
With that, she shoves my hand off her arm and flounces off.