Endgame Romance, page 16
Maxine wets her lips, shiny with a thin layer of pale gloss. It’s the only makeup she’s wearing. She’d much rather be hiking or studying than applying face paint and playing princess, no doubt. She takes a seat on the edge of my bed, looking around at the new computer, the shelf full of TikTok goodies, the heavy drapes framing the open windows and the view of the water beyond.
“Last night was your first time sleeping here, right?” she asks, and I swallow hard. I shouldn’t feel so awkward around someone I grew up with, someone I’ve known my entire life. Yet, it feels like we’re strangers, and I hate that.
Free-falling, tumbling, spinning.
The sensations inside of me make me feel weightless, but not in a good way. I’m a helium balloon left to drift in the sky, waiting for the inevitable moment when I pop and come crashing down to earth.
“How do you know that?” My voice is small and weak, and Maxine smiles softly and gently, like she’s trying to coax a frightened kitten to hop out of the tree it’s stuck in and fall into her arms.
“Your …” She chokes a little on the word, reaching up to sweep brown hair over her shoulder. “Sperm donor told me that. He’s been really nice, far more understanding than that woman.” Maxine hisses those last two words out, salty and briny with rage. It makes sense that she’d blame Tess for all of this. I would, too, if I were her. “He let me stay here last week, until …” She trails off again, inhaling and fiddling with her shirt. “Anyway, he let me stay here, and I helped pick out some of the items for your room.” Her expression brightens again, and she stands up, taking a step toward me.
I move away from the door, and she frowns at me again. I’m acting like a crazy person, I know, but I’m terrified of what Justin might be planning. If he was willing to cut and bleed Parrish, what will he do to Maxie?
My sister pauses, twitching her mouth in consternation, and then she turns and yanks the door open.
The boys—these arrogant, cocksure assholes in designer clothes—tumble into the room like they’re in a cartoon or something, just a mess of men and cursing and slightly flushed faces.
Maxine looks up at the three of them, studying their faces before planting her hands on her hips in that way of hers. She pushes the door closed behind them and hits the lock, as if this situation is normal or average in any way, like a lock can keep out the bad guys.
“Eavesdropping on a private conversation between sisters? That’s despicable.” She clucks her tongue again. Maxx looks ashamed, rubbing at the back of his head, his entire face flushed. Our eyes meet again, and his feel impossibly deep, like two mossy pools, drawing me down into cool waters.
We not only have the Maxine thing to talk about, but the dick and lick and ditto stuff that he very politely allowed to slide past without commenting on. Ugh. This is my first time seeing him since copping to having a freaking threesome with Parrish and Chasm.
It’s a lot.
My whole life is a lot.
“Utterly despicable,” Parrish agrees, but he doesn’t flinch. Chasm shrugs out of his jacket, revealing his inked arms as he tosses it onto my bed and saunters around, whistling and murmuring under his breath.
“Fuck, these are nice digs,” he admits grudgingly, but he can’t exactly comment on why that’s such an extraordinary thing. Oh my, the Seattle Slayer sure does have an acute attention to detail! He’s an interior design wizard. If it weren’t for the whole ‘being psychotic’ thing, he might be cool.
“Care to explain why?” Maxine asks, unflinching under the boys’ combined weight. It’s intense when they’re all together like this, I won’t lie. “What’s going on here? Don’t try to tell me that it’s nothing; I’m not stupid. I saw you punch that kid.” She whirls on me, her pretty shirt fluttering in the breeze, tendrils of loose wavy hair falling around her face.
My eyes flick to X, but he isn’t looking at my sister: he’s looking at me.
“Are you being bullied?” she presses when I don’t answer. “Is that where those cuts came from?”
“Did you see the redhead in the pink dress rush past on your way in?” Parrish asks, poking around on the TikTok shelf. He should be sitting on it: he’s trending on TikTok, too. Getting kidnapped and then coming back to life has really boosted his popularity. “She attacked Dakota with a group of her friends; they cut her clothes off with utility knives and then posted the video online.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Streamed it online more like.”
Maxie’s eyes widen and sparkle with unshed tears.
“Oh, baby sister …” She moves toward me again but stops herself. She can sense that I’m holding back, I’m sure. If only I could tell her everything, spill all of my secrets. Even so, even with a metric crap-ton of lies between us, even with me taking her boyfriend and sleeping with him, she still doesn’t look at me with anything less than pure love.
I don’t feel like I deserve that.
If only I hadn’t come into her life—in the lives of the Banks—then they’d all be safe, and I wouldn’t be here ruining everything and causing them pain. Stop that, Kota. When has pitying yourself ever helped?
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I lie, and then I hate myself for doing that. I lean back, resting my hands on the edge of the desk with the fancy new computer I haven’t used nor will likely ever use. How can I? It’s just a window for Justin to stare into my soul. “Actually … it was awful. Luckily enough, the Milk Carton app has scrubbed every instance of it off the internet—even the dark web. Unless someone downloaded it onto their computer and reuploads it, or if they blurred out my face …” I can’t account for everything, but as of now, I can’t seem to find the video and—to toot my own horn just a bit—I’m a pretty well-established internet sleuth.
If it was there, I’m certain I would’ve found it.
Milk Carton. Gah. Yes, it scrubbed the video, but would there even be a video without Justin? I still can’t decide if Veronica’s attack was at his behest or not. When I told the guys that I sensed there were two opposing forces at play, I meant it. It might actually be that Veronica hates me on the basis of being related to Justin, a man that her parents helped ruin for financial gain.
They’re all bad guys, all of them, every single one.
And us? We’re the vigilantes.
Maxine looks around at the boys again and then back at me, blinking through her thoughts. I know that look, the one that means she’s about to ask something pertinent yet prying. Fuuuuuuck.
“Kota, are you dating one of these boys?” she asks me, and I go completely still.
I knew it. I friggin’ knew she was going to ask that. My gaze shifts over to X. He meets my gaze before looking back at Maxine.
“I’m sure some of the awkwardness here is because of me,” he offers up, putting a hand to his chest. “But I don’t want to be an obstacle that comes between the two of you.” Maxine is staring at him now, her face etched with hurt. I’m sure she really did tell him that he was ‘just a boy’ and that I was her sister, and I bet she even meant it.
But she liked him. She liked him a lot. Maybe she even loved him?
“Are you two dating?” Maxine asks, her voice calm and cool, free of judgment. Chasm flops onto the bed on his back with a groan, and my sister gives him an odd look. If you think about it, the last she knew we were practically enemies.
“Are they dating or was it a one-time thing?” Parrish clarifies, and now he’s looking at us, too, his hands in the pockets of his varsity jacket. The hot pink shirt underneath is striking against his skin tone. It’s not just my sister that’s asking this question, it’s him, too. He wants to know my intentions, X’s intentions. He has a right, after all.
“One-time thing?” Maxine asks, and then she lets out a surprised laugh. Just like me. She does the nervous laugh thing sometimes, too. She reaches up to cover her mouth but then just drops her hand at her side. “You know about that?”
Parrish shrugs his shoulder as Chasm snorts.
They all wait for me to explain. This is entirely up to me, after all.
“We’re … we’re dating,” I say, looking over at X to judge his thoughts. His expression softens in a way that makes me feel twitchy; he’s gazing at me like he wants to scoop me up and keep me forever. “But we’ve only … that one time …” I choke on the memory, the feeling of his hips pumping into me, his tight fingers on my wrists, his declarations. I close my eyes and force myself to exhale, reaching up to run my palm over my shellacked and gussied up hair.
When I open them, I find that everyone is just staring at me.
“I’m dating all three of them.” I say the words with conviction, exhaling and shaking out my hands to release some of the tension. My sister’s brown eyes go wide, and she opens her mouth three times to speak before any words get out.
X beats her to it.
“It’s a complicated situation,” he admits, leaning his broad back up against the dresser, looking confident and sexy as hell. “It’s not something any of us would’ve entered into without … outside influence.” It’s almost a question, but then, this is Maxim Wright we’re talking about. “It doesn’t reflect on you at all.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Maxine replies breezily, but she’s as terrible an actor as I am. She’s hurt, and even if she tries to squash it down, it’s there in the softness of her eyes, the shape of her mouth. “I broke up with you; you didn’t want to be with me. Dakota is a beautiful, intelligent girl.” She shrugs, and then looks over to Chasm, likely wondering if we’ve been intimate.
It kills me that I haven’t been around to share these milestones with her. Without Justin’s influence, I don’t know what would’ve happened. Because I tend to value loyalty, I probably would’ve stayed with Parrish, been faithful to Parrish, and pushed aside any strange or nagging thoughts in regard to Maxx or Chasm.
Now that I have them all—if only temporarily—I couldn’t imagine choosing one. But if I’d never been allowed a taste? Anyway, without Justin around, if a situation like this had developed, I would’ve told my sister every single detail. The hedge maze. In the school bathroom. With the sun rising outside my bedroom window. Parrish and me on his bathroom floor … All of it.
“I didn’t mean to steal your boyfriend,” I choke out, because I need to say it. I’ve needed to say it for weeks now. “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have ever …”
Maxine nods, as if she understands. I know she can’t possibly, but she thinks she does.
“Dakota, you are dealing with a lot. More than I could handle. And then for Parrish to go missing when you were just finding your groove, the emotions must’ve been intense. I could never fault you for that.” She smiles softly at me, and I ache to go to her.
After a slight hesitation, I do.
Because Justin told me to indulge myself. He told me I deserved nice things. And if he sent Maxine to me tonight, he did it for a reason. I haven’t quite figured out what that reason is, but I will. Maybe even before the end of the night.
I go to my sister and allow her to take me in her arms, tucking me under her chin and rocking me as she rubs my back. My head clears immediately, and for the first time in days, I’m able to take a calming breath and relax. Just a little, but it’s enough.
When we finally part, her phone—which has been buzzing for a while—goes off again, and she slides it from her pocket. She blinks a few times at whatever it is that she sees and then nods, slipping it back into the sole pocket on her denim skirt.
“We’re nowhere near done with this talk, believe me.” Her gaze drifts past me to X. “You and I, we should talk, too. But not right now.” Maxine smiles sweetly at me and reaches up to cup the side of my face. “I might not like that woman, but the sperm donor, well, he’s a pretty great guy.”
I snort, and Maxine’s brow crinkles, but there’s no way I can discuss Justin in this house, not in a disparaging way and certainly not to my sister. He feels threatened by her, and I can’t let him have any further excuses to torment the people I love.
“Come with me. He’s cooked up a pretty great surprise.” She takes my hand and ignores the boys, leaving them behind as she pulls me down the hall. Just like Delphine. Right. I haven’t told Maxie about Delphine yet …
Speak of the devil (or at least the devil’s daughter) and she will appear.
Delphine waits at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, sucking on her lower lip as if she’s nervous about something. Her eyes brighten when she sees me, but I really, really don’t like the way her gaze slips to Maxine.
“This is the Banks girl?” Delphine inquires, forcing a smile. Maxie stops and smiles back at her.
“Dakota’s older sister,” she explains, pointing at herself, clearly excited by whatever ‘surprise’ Justin has conjured. Whatever it is, I’m sure I won’t like it, but if my sister is okay with it, it’s probably not a dead maid in a box.
“Dakota’s older sister—biologically speaking.” Delphine points at herself just the same, and then the two girls are staring at each other, thunder growling, lightning crashing.
“Um … what?” Maxine asks, and I glance back in time to see all three of the boys on the landing. They appear to be prepping for a photoshoot of some sort, posed all cool and dressed all slick like that. The three of them are watching the events unfold with similar expressions: anger at not being able to help, desperation for some alone time to talk, probably desperation for alone time for other things …
I turn back around and step between the two nineteen-year-olds claiming to be my older sisters.
“This is Delphine, Justin’s eldest daughter.” I force a polite smile to my face, adjusting my hand over to Maxie next. “Maxine Banks, the big sister I grew up with.”
That’s a bit of a cop-out, isn’t it? To refer to Maxine like that, but it’s the best I can do to balance her feelings with my fear of Delphine’s or Justin’s reactions.
“I … wasn’t aware that Justin had other children.” Maxine shakes her head slightly, and makes her smile even bigger, even brighter. “It’s nice to meet you, Delphine. If you need any big sister tips, I’ve got them all filed away up here.” My sister taps at the side of her head with a pretty white and yellow nail with a daisy painted on it. It’s one of the few beauty routines she likes, painting her nails.
“Oh, I’m sure I won’t need them. You wouldn’t believe how much Mia and I take after our father.” Delphine purposefully uses my birthname to throw a barb my way; I ignore it, but I won’t forget it. “Your guests are here, by the way.” She turns and indicates the foyer, and Maxine’s smile twitches.
“Right.” She squeezes my hand even harder, pulling me forward just in time for the front doors to open.
For several seconds, I’m certain that I’m the victim of a mirage. I’m lost in a desert of emotions, thirsty for love and familiarity, for a soft place to land. I only think I see water, trees, shade, somewhere to rest.
There in the doorway, in the flesh, are the banks.
My grandparents—Carmen and Walter Banks.
They’re standing right there, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I realize then that this isn’t about Maxine, not in the way it was about Parrish. Justin held Parrish to teach me a lesson. Now, he’s just making a promise to enforce it. If I don’t follow his rules or play his game—if I don’t find some way to checkmate him—I’m committing myself to compliance for life.
Essentially, I’m committing to being his accomplice.
Terror lances through me, but I force a smile to my face anyway. Because, in order to beat someone’s game, you have to actually play it.
“I can’t believe you’re here …” Tears in my eyes, I move over to embrace my grandparents, the fabric of my green designer gown rustling.
In that moment, I’m pretty sure I just gained a level. In life. I mean, in life I gained a level.
It’s a metaphor.
Anyway, I might not be a writer like my bio mother, but I’m definitely a gamer like dear old dad.
He’s dead wrong if he thinks otherwise.
The hugs I receive from my grandparents are like buffs in a video game, offering me strength long after they’ve pulled away, studying me with tears in their eyes. They exchange a quick look with one another that makes me fidget self-consciously before returning their attentions to their long-lost granddaughter. I try not to read too much into it, to wonder if they’re looking at one another in disappointment as to what I’ve become.
Mostly, I’m sure it’s all in my imagination.
“You look so grown-up,” Grandma Carmen says, her voice choked with emotion. She’s wearing her favorite shade of bright-red lipstick, her silver hair twisted into a bun at the back of her head. The dress she’s wearing is understated and casual, just a slip of harvest orange fabric with sensible shoes.
She’s the most beautiful woman in the room, in my opinion.
“Grown-up in a good way?” I ask, noticing that she’s studying my facial expression, primarily my eyes, as she makes her declaration. She’s reading all the ways I’ve matured—either naturally or by force, I suppose. It’s not about the dress or the makeup I didn’t want to wear, the very pretty but too-high shoes or anything else.
It’s the fact that I’m starting to understand Tess and her motivations, that I’m realizing not everything is black and white, that people are complex and strange, and that I myself am one of them.
All of that.
“I’m impressed.” My grandmother puts her hands on her hips as my grandfather wipes away tears with shaking hands. He’s always been the more emotional, less rational of the two. Also, he takes about twice as long as my grandmother to get ready to go anywhere, and he never knows what restaurant he wants to eat at but always vetoes other’s suggestions because his own cooking is superior to whatever we could get when going out and … Holy Gamer Gods, I missed the man so much that I might just start crying again. “You’ve blossomed, Kota.”
