Cruel Kisses: It’s Just High School #2 Read online

  “God,” I gasp, as a tremor moves through me. Is all this heartache and pain because of me? Did I cause my family this much chaos just by opening my mouth when I was barely old enough to understand that every word, every kiss has devastating consequences?

  I mean, it has to be my fault.

  I let reality slip through my fingers, gave in to lust and longing and refused to see that Julian… wasn’t the forgiving kind.

  Last night before the party from hell, I literally begged him to fuck me, purring in his ear like an over eager bitch in heat and he… well, he grinned down at me, his mouth made of sin planting soft kisses all over my body, then he had the audacity to whisper sweet nothings in my ear while he screwed me, bringing me to intense heights of pleasure where I honestly thought I was so close to him, but no… he was playing me the whole time.

  The thing is, he warned me.

  He never stopped hating me. I just mistook his cunning moves for something they weren’t.

  A shudder goes down my spine as a vivid memory filters in my head, until his voice becomes so eerily clear, it feels like he’s right behind me.

  “I’m probably going to hurt you where it’ll shutter you, for Aiden, for kissing Liam… for causing all this crap in my life, turning it upside down without a care in the world.”

  He warned me.

  He never lied.

  I’m such a fool.

  It’s the most horrible and sinister thing in the world; being punished over and over again for a past you can’t change. Because all of this, John coming after my father, using Nicky, faking care for Nancy, then Courtney shattering my entire life—it’s all a punishment made possible by the Fitz brothers.

  The two have always been rumored to be vengeful and not the type of people anyone would want to go against. I knew that. I knew that for years before I moved into their mansion but somehow, I mistook intense, endorphin inducing lust and affection for genuine concern and care—things I was starved for—when it was all calculated.

  God, I’m such a fool.

  That’s the thing about desperation and hunger. You start accepting everything, thinking that it’s better than nothing, when all you’re doing is allowing them to destroy you, to poison you until you’re nothing but a begging, pathetic mess.

  And now, after weeks of being a clueless bitch, my life isn’t the same. I lost more than I thought I did.

  School sucks. I don’t have any friends. Everyone either hates me, is jealous of me, or feels sorry for me.

  The people I thought loved me, all lied to me, abandoned me, or blame me for all the crap in their lives.

  But the woman who’s always had my back, loved me when I felt unlovable, I turned my back on her, left her to suffer alone all in the name of resentment.

  Nancy raised me. She’s my mother for all intents and purposes, Nicky can go to hell for all I care.

  So, it’s in that spirit that I switch off my phone the moment I see her name across the screen. I haven’t bothered to listen to the voice messages she left, and I won’t read her texts. Same goes for my father.

  They don’t matter and they currently don’t know where I am. If they knew, they’d know that one way or another, I’m going to get revenge on the Fitzgerald family. If they knew where I am now, they’d know that I’m going to get my mother out of this lavishly styled hell and get out of here.

  Nancy didn’t deserve to be dragged into this. She never asked for this, so with that in mind, a steely resolve falls over me like a black armor of steel. I push open the large double oak doors of the Fitzgerald mansion like I’m about to go to war.

  Julian isn’t here, I saw him speed out of the driveway after his graduation, and soon after Cole and Liam followed after him. I refuse to think that the looks of worry on all their faces was for me. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

  Quietly, I beeline my way toward the hallway that will lead me to Nancy’s makeshift hospital room. Maybe I should go to my room, wash up, and pack a little bag. I have no idea where I’ll take a sick woman.

  I parked my car behind the large trees that surround the property to make sure no one sees it, but I have no idea how I’ll make it out of here with Nancy in tow. And I have to do all that without anyone spotting us.

  Think, Mia. You can’t be foolish for the third time in a row.

  My mind is buzzing with all sorts of scenarios and attempts to flee that I suspect will fail when I notice something—or rather someone—from the corner of my eye before they speak.

  “Mia.”

  I halt to a stop as soon as her soft, yet cold voice reaches my ears. A cold shiver goes down my spine, my heart starts thundering in my chest as my mouth goes dry. She smiles, knowing the chilling effect she has on me.

  “I’m so relieved to see that you’re back and in one piece,” she says, taking another step closer. I’m sure you are, bitch. “How are you, dear? Are you all right?”

  She says that like she’s genuinely concerned, if she were though, hell must have frozen over right about now.

  “Courtney,” I say, swallowing the ball in my throat so I don’t say what I really want to say. I’m not here for her. “Your concern, is as always, neither welcomed nor wanted, but thank you, I’m sure you tried.”

  She smiles sadly, watching me intently. Then she flips her hair over her shoulder—like I sometimes do when I’m ready to piss someone off—tucking loose strands behind her ear, allowing me to see the diamond earrings glittering in the light of the hallway.

  Courtney Fitzgerald is an elegant woman, dressed now in a soft cream Tom Ford cashmere sweater that somehow brings out her beautiful green eyes that stare at me with so much pity, it makes my stomach turn. Her black suit pants were tailor made for her, and her signature red bottoms make up the rest of her ‘Idle hands, devil’s work’ attire.

  She’s wealthy, stunning, calculated, intimidating and she knows it. Got to appreciate that about the woman, she has never tried to cover her true self in sheepskin. With her, I expect nothing but lethal.

  “Mia, I know you must hate me, and I know I’m probably the last person you want to be talking to right now,” she says.

  “You got that right, so why don’t you save the rest of what you want to say for someone that actually cares.”

  I stare up at her, but I can see the resolve in her eyes, and I know, I’m not going anywhere until she’s done with me.

  “You’re going to want to hear what I have to say, I guarantee that.”

  “What makes you so certain?” I scoff. “Everything you’ve ever said to me has all been dipped in cheap insults, mockery, and life changing truths. I doubt whatever this is, is any different.”

  She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, then she folds her arms delicately like she’s settling in for a battle I want no part in.

  “Mia, I know we got off on the wrong foot,” she starts, and I reel back like her words were a physical blow. Did she just that?

  “The wrong foot?” I start as anger, sharp and intense, pulses through my system, awakening a side of me I didn’t want to feel—hurt. “Could you tell me, where do you get the nerve to stand there looking all high and mighty, talking shit like that all while acting like the victim in this fucked up story?”

  “Mia, I…”

  “How is destroying my life, revealing truths you had no right to, buying my childhood home just to rub it in my family’s face, the wrong foot, Courtney?” I grit out, trying my hardest not to let her see the pain or that I’m close to breaking down in tears. So, I bite down on my tongue, hard, until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, holding on to the anger. “What part of that is the wrong foot?”

  This hurts. A lot.

  All I want to do is scream, but I can’t. Not here. I still have a plan. I need to focus on that for now.

  “You’re right, I don’t have the right to stand here and try to atone for what I did, but I am sorry.”

  “I don’t need nor care for your bleedin
g apologies, Courtney.”

  How is she the mother of the two boys who’ve managed to snake their way into my heart, only to sink their poisonous fangs in there and now, I’m rotting from within?

  “I know you hate me and with good reason, but the thing is, right now, this messed up situation you’re in, it reminds me a lot of a dark hole I was in. A personal hell of sorts that I was never able to get out of for years and now, years later, I still have trauma and scars from it.”

  It’s the way she says it, her voice now softer, yet her eyes grow harder like she’s remembering a kind of pain that changed her life, that makes me pause. I can see the shadows in her eyes—or maybe, she lets me see them.

  Huh? What game is she playing at?

  “You and I are nothing alike.”

  “Maybe,” she says, eyeing me like she knows I’m a fraud, pretending to be strong yet I’m scared shitless right now. “Or maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I was fifteen years old and in love with a man who only saw me as a means to an end, a business contract if you will, something that’s part of the Fitzgerald legacy and will not change for anything or anyone.”

  What? Arranged marriages?

  “Yes,” Courtney says, and I realize I just muttered that out loud. “Arranged marriages. You do see where this is going and how you don’t fit in this, right?”

  I do… my God, he was never going to be mine, was he? But I stand up tall, straightening my shoulders and hold on to my pride.

  “I don’t care what your sons do, or who they’re tragically betrothed to marry, Courtney” I whisper, and she shakes her head, choosing not to address that, letting me suffer in my stupidity. “And honestly, I don’t give a shit so why are you telling me any of this?”

  “I’m just trying to do the right thing. I wish I had someone to warn me when I was your age.”

  The right thing? The nerve of this woman.

  “Is that what you tell yourself each night so your guilty conscience can let you sleep?” I say softly, tilting my head to the left. “Do you tell yourself that what you’re doing is right, even when you know it’s wrong—boarder-line evil at most?”

  “Well, I lost my conscience when I got married to John and he brought home a child that wasn’t mine to raise, so, for twenty-two years I’ve managed to sleep, very well in fact. It’s amazing the medical advances they’re making these days.”

  My jaw drops to the floor and I stare at her mutely, but she doesn’t change her impassive, cold facial expression. The sharp look in her eyes is still the same, like she just announced that the weather is perfect for a good ole broom-riding session like the Wicked Witch of the West she is.

  “That shocked you, huh?” she scoffs. “I thought it might.”

  I watch her silently as my mind races with a thousand questions. Who is she talking about? Who isn’t her child? Why is she telling me of all people? Is she playing me?

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I demand, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Maybe I just wanted to confess the truth to someone else,” she says, making me scoff. How stupid does she think I am?

  “I’m not a priest,” I deadpan, but she goes on like I never said a word.

  “Or maybe you deserve to know that there’s more going on here than you think.”

  Silence falls over us for a few seconds. We stare at each other and I know she’s waiting for me to react, to say something, to see if I’ve bitten the damn bait. For all I know, she might be lying right now, weaving a dramatic tale just to mess with me.

  But if she is, what is her end goal? What is she looking to achieve? To break me? I’m already broken. To get me to stay away from her sons? That’s a given after everything that has happened.

  “You look suspiciously calm for a woman admitting to raising a child that wasn’t hers,” I mutter, watching her. “I still don’t get why you’re telling me all of this.”

  “I’ve had years to stew over it, but then again, that’s the beauty of money, you can pay someone else to do the shit you don’t want to do.”

  This is the second time she has mentioned money tome. Why is that?

  “Yeah, I’m sure you can do whatever the hell you want. Like raise the bastard child you wish you could get rid of, isn’t it?”

  But who is it though? Could it be Aiden? Obviously, Julian is her son, they have the exact same eyes. Hard, unyielding, sometimes even cold and intense. While hers make me feel like she’s playing me, her son’s make me feel like I’m about to get lost in a dense, ever-green forest, where only he knows the lay-out, the traps and where his demons are.

  “Well, I will admit, the beginning was a bit…rough,” she says, looking strangely uncomfortable, unable to look me in the eyes. A whining kind of buzz starts ringing at the back of my head as I stare at her.

  “Why do I feel like you have done a whole lot more shit than just fester in your silent resentment over your husband’s continued infidelity; before and after you as it seems?”

  A heavy silence falls over us and I shake my head, feeling light-headed, the answer so clear right in front of me.

  “You won’t even deny it.”

  “Denying things I can’t change would just be useless of me, not to mention a waste of both our limited time, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I don’t even want to know what you did. I already got a taste of what you can do to people you hate.”

  “I don’t hate you, Mia,” she says, looking offended.

  “And let me guess, you had that epiphany when? When I discovered what your husband was doing to my family?” I can’t keep the contempt out of my voice, or the disgust as I look at her. “You and John were made for each other.”

  Courtney scoffs, looking affronted like I just offended her, but then again, the look in her eyes doesn’t sit right with me. “Well, I must admit, John’s shit was dramatic, but I’m not a hateful person.”

  The fuck?

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Oh you, you’re just the unfortunate collateral damage of your shitty parents who constantly lie to you about everything. I’ve never lied to you. I didn’t like you from the moment we met and never bothered to hide it.”

  “You made that much abundantly clear,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Exactly, which means I don’t have an ulterior motive right now.”

  Right now… There could be a time all this will come to play for her. But when and why?

  “I don’t particularly care about your past,” I whisper but she shakes her head looking at me like she feels sorry for me. That look does something to my heart that makes me almost groan in pain.

  “Thing is, Mia, I think you do care,” she says, with a sigh. “See, John never loved me, but I would have done anything he asked, including jump as high as he wanted me to or wait on him when he was out with the woman he was in love with—a woman who had her own family waiting for her at her home, but chose to hustle as a heartless, home-wrecker instead.”

  God, I hate cheaters. I’d never cheat, no matter what the situation. I’m the product of Nathan and Nicky’s infidelity. Who sleeps with her sister’s fiancé? Oh, I know, my birth mother, apparently.

  “So, a home-wrecker made you this bitter?” I say, sarcastically.

  “Oh, I wish that was my excuse, I really do but the simple truth is, I did this to myself,” she says. “I was simply in love, just like you are.”

  I’m stunned into silence. My mouth dries up like I just swallowed a desert. A cold shudder goes through me and for a moment I swear, my knees weaken as dread pools in the pit of my stomach, seeping into my bones until I’m left chilled, scared and uncertain.

  “Why…” I stutter, then clear my throat, afraid of where this is going, but I choose to go with denial anyway. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  Please say you just wanted to get that off your chest. Please don’t shatter what’s left of me.
>
  “I think you already know why.”

  “I don’t.” I suspect though…

  “I wish that were true, sweetheart,” she says. “I wish my story wasn’t like yours.”

  “No…” I deny, but she cuts me off.

  “I wish I wasn’t in love with someone who doesn’t love me back like you are now.”

  If you listen closely, you might hear my heart shatter on the cold, hard floor of the Fitzgerald mansion the moment she says that.

  “I don’t…” I stutter, my voice hoarse. I want to tell her that I don’t care but the truth is, I’m so devasted by her words, I can hardly speak. Or breath for that matter.

  “You see, I wish I had someone back then. Someone to tell me that the thing with John was going to destroy me, that it wasn’t going to work or that he was never going to love me like I loved him with my entire being. All I was to John and still am, is a business transaction.”

  A business transaction…

  “I’m not in love…” I start, but she cuts me off, looking at me like she feels sorry for me. It’s sickening.

  “I see the way you look at him. I saw it from the day I met you. I don’t know if you know, but your body reacts to him, your pupils dilate, you hang on to every word my son says even if you actually hate what he says.”

  I shake my head, taking a step back.

  “You love him,” she says with absolute certainty that stuns me into silence, but this time as her words sink in, their honesty settling over me with ease, I decide not to fight it or deny them and why should I? It’s the damned truth from hell. We both know it, but I won’t say a word. Admitting it out loud is a step too far.

  I’m in love with a guy who has repeatedly hurt me like I mean nothing. I guess I’m part of the stupid teen girl statistic, in love with a guy she knows is totally wrong for her. That might be true, but that won’t be my story. I need to make sure that I don’t die on that steep, endless hill.

  “I’m glad you didn’t bother denying that, I guess acceptance is key, but it’s also stupid.”

  “Yeah well, or maybe I know better than to fight shit I know will change eventually,” I say then murmur to myself. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to fall out of love with that asshole. I have to.”