Ugly Truths: A Contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 2) Read online

  I grabbed my favorite pillow and pulled it over my lap, smoothing my hands over the coarse yet soft embroidery. It was ugly in a way that made it beautiful.

  “I already apologized. I had a lot happen and I didn’t want to talk about it.” Ryan was the first one to befriend me, but somewhere along the way, the guys swooped in and pushed everyone else away. Not intentionally, I doubt they even realized I spent less time with Ryan because of them. The bond that seared us together was kind of responsible. It made me want to get to know them better. Learn all the ways we were similar and uncover the ways we weren’t.

  I had apologized. If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d apologized three times. And if he was honest with himself and me, he’d forgiven me after the second time. He was a drama queen that wanted to milk it for all the measly little points it was worth. And every tiny bit of boring information was currency in his book. “It wasn’t like you didn’t have Pat to keep you occupied. I’m pretty sure you were alone maybe five minutes while I was taking time to get my head out of the sand.”

  “That’s not the point. What’s important here is you denied me the opportunity to get the inside scoop while it was happening. I had to speculate and guess from afar while you were avoiding me.” He pulled his arm away from his face and elegantly shoved himself onto his elbows.

  An uncontrollable twitch started at the corners of my mouth as I tried to hold in my laughter. The things he thought were important really brightened my day in a weird sort of way.

  “Fine. It started the night of the party. You know, the night you ditched me to shamelessly pursue Pat.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s not what we’re talking about.”

  We’d be here all night if I didn’t start giving him the in-color version of how I became friends with the star hockey player, and the school nerd. Even collecting the town’s hottie mechanic and standoffish art student. Maybe collecting wasn’t the right word. How about began our budding friendship?

  That was definitely the highpoint of my time. I hadn’t had an opportunity to hang out with everyone all together again, but I really enjoyed the time I got to see them. Our friendships were calm in the way only a close friend of ten years could sit in silence with you, or the sense of camaraderie of someone that suffered with you through childhood. We didn’t have either of those scenarios since I was brand new to the lovely Silver Ranch this year, but our relationship was unique. Ryan and Stacey didn’t compare.

  Over the next hour, I laid out in detail, most of what happened. I held the most personal details back that were only for me and the guys. Like the night Beck and I stealthily creeped on Rhys, or when the dreaded shower curtain fell. They were all times that felt intimate and painfully unshareable. It wouldn’t hurt me to tell Ryan about what happened, but I doubted I could actually bring myself to speak any of the words. They were ours.

  “All right. I have to head home. You want to walk me down?” Ryan stretched with a loud, angry cat noise gurgling from his mouth.

  I could walk him down and chance a meeting with the parentals, or I could stay in my room and hide out in my safe haven. If I stayed, there was always a possibility that Mother Dearest would say horribly mean and possibly bigoted things to him. Ryan didn’t deserve that, so walk down with him it was.

  Without giving an answer, I opened my door, listening for a beat to see if either of my parentals was downstairs. It was an unconscious habit at this point, but I couldn’t shake it.

  The polished stairs creaked beneath our feet no matter how hard I tried to be silent. A sharp chiming came from the study, announcing the time as eight long bells rang through the rest of the house. Right as I hit the bottom step, furious clanking scared the Jesus out of me.

  Just great. Mother Dearest was in the kitchen. She wasn’t home for dinner, so I’d assumed she ate out. I guessed not.

  If there was any luck on my side, I could quietly slip Ryan out the door and run upstairs. After our first meeting where he told my dad he was atheist, I hadn’t believed he was too eager to see my parents again either. At this point, Dad wouldn’t interfere, but Mother Dearest was still a wild card if Dad wasn’t around to police her.

  We made it to the front door and I gently turned the knob, widening the space just enough for him to slide through sideways. No use in provoking a situation if there wasn’t a need. By getting him out of the house without running into her definitely went a long ways in avoiding said situation.

  Ryan rolled his eyes and turned sideways to edge through the doorway. Once he was on the porch, he saluted me before jogging down the steps. She had to have seen the beat up car. If nothing else, she wasn’t dumb. I was only hoping I could avoid her before she realized he was gone. She never came to my room, so I’d be in the clear if I made it up there.

  “Astrid. Girl, what do you think you’re doing?” The dry tone of her voice scratched over my skin like a rough and jagged piece of hide. Damn it.

  If it wouldn’t cause more trouble, I would have banged my head against the door a few times. I didn’t do that. That would have only enraged her like the lunatic she was.

  “Nothing. I was showing Ryan out. We were studying.” I babbled and shuffled on my feet. The darkened stairway called my name, urging me to slide along the wall until I was out of her reach. Instead, I curled my toes in my lace-topped socks.

  “Yes, a boy in your room, which your father has allowed. When he has never given his permission before.” Her lipstick stained lips pinched into a sour frown. “Why is that?” She mused more to herself than to me.

  I shrugged, but in a way that was more I have no idea, rather than I don't care. “Maybe because I'm eighteen and will be graduating soon. Ryan is a friend only, anyway.” There was an animal vibe in the air, telling me to make no sudden movements. I hadn't felt this way in several weeks, not since the day Rhys paid a visit.

  Whatever Dad was doing to keep her in line must be wearing off. Almost as if her tolerance to his confusing reprimands was increasing. If I called for him, he would come at least. He could serve as a distraction until I got away.

  “Doubtful.”

  “I don't know, Mom. But I need to study. We have an exam tomorrow in math, and you know I need all the extra help I can get when it comes to that class.” I did, but she didn't need to know that. I sucked royally at math. And she loved to rub my slightly pointed nose in it. Hopefully by playing into her favorite perceived weakness, whatever mood she was in would lift. By dangling the bait in front of her, I doubted she could resist. And I was right.

  “Thank God you're actually trying to get a good grade, although I don't know if there's a whole lot of hope either way. Why we were cursed with such a slow student, I'll never know.” She shook her head.

  “I'll be in my room.” I almost added studying, but that would have been too suspicious.

  Dead silence followed me up the stairs, but I refused to look back. If she was going to have another episode, she would make noise as she rushed me. I held my breath as I forced myself to walk the last few steps at a normal pace. Once I was out of view, I ran to my room, contradicting my furiously beating heart by gently closing the door.

  Sharp edges of my neon glow stars stabbed me in the back as I pressed against the hard surface. A teal, gauzy shirt was draped over a chair, and a stack of papers littered the floor where I'd gone through my backpack earlier. Other than that, the room was immaculate. Much higher than my usual level of clean, my newfound freedom sparked vivacious energy I needed to get out every night before I went to bed. Otherwise, I'd lay there thinking of all the ways I was living my best life right now. And it was glorious, truly, but I needed sleep.

  The stairs were creak free letting me know Mother Dearest had stayed downstairs. Now that I felt safe, I settled on my window seat with my phone. Over the course of the last month, my photos went from slightly creepy and a lot stalkerish, to fun, friend-filled selfies. I still chased the artistic shots, but those were now reserved to my camera. If someone were
to look through my recent pictures, it would appear to belong to another random, if slightly awkward teenager. I loved it.

  Night had completely fallen, and the orange glow of the streetlights brightened the street in circular patches. Rhys' black Range Rover pulled into his drive, disappearing behind his house. It was after eight at night, so he was probably getting in from hockey practice. It was approaching winter and he'd been hitting the ice rink even more than normal. He was determined to get a full ride to a university without the help of his dad. And from the last encounter with Mr. Bennet, I didn't blame him. Just... ewwww.

  My phone chimed and I glanced down to see what had come through. Three emojis lit my screen, a serious face, a hockey stick and a little blue SUV, which were code for Rhys.

  RHYS: Hey. Are you creeping in your window again?

  ME: Noooo.

  ME: Maybe

  RHYS: I thought I saw you in the window. Want to come over?

  My dad was being willfully ignorant in the study. Mother Dearest was mean mugging in the kitchen. But I'd love to go over there to see him. Wild butterflies tickled the inside of my stomach as I weighed the options. Yes, I absolutely wanted to take the chance at running into Mother Dearest again. Too bad there weren't any tall, heavily branched trees right outside my window. I could have gone old school and climbed out.

  ME: I'll be right there. Leave the door unlocked.

  That comment brought out the inner diva lurking below the surface. It was completely innocent. But the innuendo any stranger would lift from the statement thrilled me. Rhys on the other hand probably didn't think twice about it. We were clearly in the friend zone.

  I grabbed my slip-on toms, letting them hang by the heels from my two forefingers, and opened my door. Nothing.

  My fancy lace socks never left the floor as I carefully skated across the hardwood. If I didn't lift my feet, I stood a better chance of avoiding any pesky sounds from the grumpy staircase. And yes, staircases could be grumpy, especially in the evening when the house quieted and the family settled in for the night. I swore, sometimes the groans of the wood were passive forms of protest from our disturbance.

  Actually, going down was a bit harder, but I managed with hardly any sound. The downstairs was completely quiet. Could it be? Had both my parents gone to bed early?

  Hallelujah!

  I tiptoed down the hallway when low murmuring came from the study. Dang, it wasn't as quiet as I had hoped. At least they were occupied with each other. As I slid next to the cracked door, I paused and held my breath. I’d need to wait for the perfect distraction before slipping by.

  “Trina, seriously? This isn't like you to be so paranoid. It's really not becoming on a woman your age.” Dad's patronizing tone even stung me, and I wasn't a direct part of the conversation.

  “Don't, James. I'm far from stupid. Whatever brought us here wasn't a better job opportunity. It's hardly better than South Carolina, and if I'm honest, this is worse. It's too expensive and the people are terrors. What's the real reason we moved? Are you leaving me?” Her voice hitched on the last word.

  She was actually upset. I hadn't realized she could feel emotion like that. Deep inside the tender part of my heart, this should have hurt me. That he was handling her with such callous hands and obvious indifference, should have tugged on some invisible heartstring inside me. If I had walked in on this conversation the first day we moved here, it absolutely would have. But now? Now I had nothing left for them except bitter contempt and a burning desire to get away from them. Not to become them.

  “If you don't stop with this ridiculousness, you can to go to bed. You know as well as I do our marriage has been a good one. Don't start messing it up now.” A note of disgust echoed in Dad's voice.

  “If that's the way you feel, then fuck you, James. Fuck you and your mother fucking righteousness.” Mother Dearest yelled so loud, I could have heard her from my window seat.

  And that was my cue to run. Their fight would either escalate, or end, and I didn't want to be caught with paint on my hands by hovering around the door.

  I softly exited the house and inhaled a deep clean breath. Anything to wash away the harsh resentment from my skin. Funny how their argument could permeate the air like that.

  As I walked toward Rhys', I kept thinking the same thing over and over again.

  What was wrong with me that I had no heart?

  The blue door of the guest cottage was so homey, with large planters of flowers on either side. Left over pansies welcomed me with their smiling faces. How they were able to keep the plants alive when winter was coming was a miracle.

  Warm air wafted through the door as Rhys swung it open. A half grin on his face greeted me. That was his version of Ryan going crazy over Vince Camuto luggage. Yeah, that was a lame comparison, but he was so serious all the time. A twitch of the lips would be extreme excitement.

  “Hey, come in.” He pulled back enough to so I could easily slide by.

  “Hi,” I grinned and tucked some loose strands of hair behind my ear like a giggling airhead. I needed to snap out of it. We were cool. We'd hung out before.

  “You hungry?” He led the way toward the little kitchen, and I tried and failed to keep my eyes from roving over his backside in his tight jeans.

  “No, I ate with Ryan earlier.” I headed toward the living room while he stopped in the kitchen to make a protein shake. That was his thing lately. He said he needed to bulk up another five or ten pounds and he was taking it very seriously.

  “Cool. I have some rotisserie chicken left from last night if you change your mind.” He took up the other end of the couch, stretching out as he grabbed the remote. It was really a surprise his long, muscled frame could fit on the couch with me. I wasn't joking the first time I referred to him as Ragnar. He was the size of a Viking, with all the personality of a murdering marauder.

  No, that wasn't fair. He wasn't violent. Only protective and on the quiet and stern side. “What's been going on? I haven't really gotten to see you lately with how much coach has me in practice.” Rhys swiped a large, veined hand over his head, causing the ends of his hair to stand up. He hadn't had a haircut since I'd known him, so his golden blond locks were growing out. It was a good look for him.

  “It's cool. Nothing much has been going on. I'm trying to figure out what to do for scholarship finals.” Royal blue filled the screen as a random commercial played.

  Why didn't he pay for the premium subscriptions so he didn't have the marketing breaks? It was odd and didn’t quite fit with their family image. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

  “Can't you use what you used for Silver Ranch? It was awesome.” His knee touched my leg as he twisted toward me. Lit only by the TV, his beautiful light eyes seemed dark and turbulent.

  “I can. Mr. Music said it's fine to use what I have, but we have the opportunity to change our theme. And the max pieces allowed in the portfolio are eight this time instead of five. I've just been trying to think of something more epic. I'll probably end up using the same pieces anyway. There's nothing else that's jumping out at me.” I sighed. It would be fine to use my current pieces, and Mr. Music said I had a really good shot at winning. Only there was this aching need inside me that screamed for me to continue to make art. Like I could create something that was deeply thought provoking and awe-inspiring. But I had no idea what that would be.

  “How long did it take you to get those pieces together? A couple of days? I can't believe you are a one hit wonder.” He shook his head. “How's your Dad been? Isn't he going to cover your college anyway? I thought you were now only going for fun?”

  I looked away from the screen to lock gazes with Rhys. I couldn't tell you what we’d been watching. All I knew was, I was alone in a dark room, with a cute boy I liked. Even though I'd had little moments alone with Rhys, Beck, Jonah, and Thatcher, something was changing. At first, I was nervous and too focused on getting out, to really let it sink in. Now that I was a bit more relaxed and
I knew them better as friends, the warm feelings in my stomach were constantly battling my body for dominance. If these feelings won the fight, my body would burst into hot blue flames. I doubt Rhys would appreciate that.

  “It’s been fun. But there's something inside me that won't allow me to not follow through, just like it won't allow me to submit anything that's not my best.” I nodded my head as if that was going to miraculously make him understand the inner workings of my mind.

  He nodded, his face somber. “I get it. That's how I am with hockey. You know, my Dad forced me to do it. The first year, I hated it and threw a fit every time there was practice or private lessons.” His fingers brushed against mine on the cushion as he continued. “It wasn't until about halfway through the second year I saw it for what it was... something I was talented in, that was all mine. My dad pays for the lessons, but I do the work. I score the goals. I sweat and bleed. When I get a scholarship, I can give a big fuck you to Stan and know that I've earned it. I made my own way. So yes, I completely understand.”

  My heart sighed in dreamy satisfaction. How did I get so lucky to meet a group of guys that understood in their own way what it was going to take to get out of our life as it was? I needed those people around me, the ones that were just as driven and dedicated as I was. We would help each other along the way. It was so easy to stumble. But it was also easy to keep going when there were people to take your hand.

  We held each other's gazes for a few seconds longer before Rhys turned the volume up. He settled on The Departed. It was actually one of my favorite movies that my parents never knew I watched. All about corrupted deeds and lonely deceit. A much more potent and concentrated version of my life. We weren’t killing people, but we were drenched in pretty lies.

  Our fingers remained touching, just the barest of hints. It wasn't quite a come on, more like a thoughtful gesture of comfort between friends. A gesture that tingled long after I went home.