Wicked Love (Wicked White Series Book 3) (3 page)

I shake my head and sniff. “No I’m not. They’re right. I don’t belong—not anymore.” With that admission I cry harder. “I’ve got to go.”

I turn and run again—away from Tyler. Away from everything that is my life. It’s time for me to start living in my new reality, and letting go of a life that no longer belongs to me.

AVERY

I
don’t want to be packing right now, but I don’t really have a choice in the matter. I haven’t been to any classes since the party two weeks ago and I’m too far behind now to even attempt to go back and finish spring semester. I withdrew from all my classes this morning and came to terms that moving out of the city to start a new life with my dad is the best thing for me right now. Since Dad filed bankruptcy, it’s not the best time for me to be getting mixed up in loans that I know my family has no way of repaying.

Dad and I are both completely broke. All we have left is the money my granny has floated us, along with the one car we are allowed to keep.

The entire student body now knows that I’m the daughter of the CFO caught in a recent embezzlement scandal. Charity’s been busy leading the charge to ruin my reputation with anyone who would listen—even my cousin, who also attends Ohio State, has heard the story. I’m sure by now all the people I know at school have had a good laugh at my expense.

Chance poked fun at me yesterday on social media, so I made the decision to delete all my accounts just so I won’t have to see the evidence of being the laughingstock of all my so-called friends firsthand.

I would like to say that we’re moving somewhere uberglamorous and exotic, so that we can put all this behind us and start a new life, but that’s not the case. Where we’re going is a total hole-in-the-wall town. I haven’t been there in years. I’m moving to Wellston, Ohio. Jeez, just thinking of the name puts me to sleep. Why Wellston? Well, that’s easy. That’s where Granny lives, plus we have nowhere else to go. I’m
so
not looking forward to living with her. She’s great and I love her dearly, but she smokes like a freakin’ freight train, she cusses like a sailor, and I know she’s going to be hell on wheels to live with. She’s not the little-old-lady-that-bakes-cookies type, that’s for sure, but she’s kind enough to allow her soon-to-be-homeless son and granddaughter to move in with her. I have to learn to make the best of the situation because I honestly don’t have any other options right now.

Dad loads the last of our things in the only car the court let us keep. Our Mercedes SUV is top-of-the-line. I pleaded with him to trade it in for something a little less flashy because it’s going to stick out like a sore thumb where we are going, but Dad didn’t want to walk into a car dealership and risk the embarrassment of being turned down due to his current credit predicament. We’re lucky to have a car at all right now. Wellston isn’t really known to be a wealthy area by any means. Matter of fact, it’s a part of what’s referred to as Appalachia—one of the poorest regions of the United States.

I know I’m going to hate it there. I’m already desperate to find a way back to Columbus as soon as I can. I even stooped as low as making plans with my cousin Stacy, whom I barely speak to. The plan is that I come back to Columbus and live with her and my aunt Donna, my mother’s sister, once Dad gets back on his feet and I find a way to pay for my tuition. I want to finish my degree even though I’m still not sure what I want to do with my life. College seems like the only option for a decent future. I’ll find a way to support myself, but I’ve always been told I need a college degree for that.

I don’t like the idea of leaving Dad in his current state. He’s been really depressed since everything’s gone down and is overly emotional. I let out a big sigh as I stand there looking at my room for the last time. This is totally heartbreaking. I’ve lost everything—my house, the people I used to think were my friends, and even my mom because of all this. She can’t take being poor. At least that’s what she told us when she left two months ago after Dad broke the news about what was happening to him at his job. Even though Dad explained that he wasn’t responsible for taking all the money that the investigators claimed was missing, he did confess to taking a little extra money off the top of his company’s profits. Dad was the CFO, so he controlled the money, and when the VP of the company discovered what Dad had done, he took millions of dollars from the company and set it up so that my dad would take the fall for all the missing money. Once my dad’s lawyers dug into everything, they were able to provide the court with a paper trail leading back to the VP, which is how my father escaped without any jail time.

Even with that, the damage to his career was done. He says no other company will even consider hiring him after everything that’s happened.

My mother couldn’t stomach the fact that she was married to a broke criminal, so she left, and hasn’t contacted either me or Dad since.

Mom is now dating her plastic surgeon, according to her social media page.

Money is a crazy thing. When you have it, people stick to you like glue. When you hit rock bottom, people scamper away and never look back.

“You ready, kiddo?” Dad asks. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

“Yeah, I’m ready. I was just, you know . . .” I mumble.

“I know,” he says softly, while giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I am so sorry about all of this, Avery.”

I pat his hand that’s resting on my shoulder. “I know, Dad. You don’t have to keep apologizing to me.”

“But I do. I feel like I’ve ruined your life.”

“It’s going to be okay, Dad. Me and you . . . we’re a team.”

He gives me a small smile. “I’m so lucky to be your dad. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

I turn and wrap my arms around him. “I’ll never give up.”

It’s taken a couple months for me to forgive him for everything, and a small part of me hoped that Mom would come around like I did, but I’m not holding my breath for that to happen anymore.

I put a lot of the blame for what’s happening to our family on her. If she wasn’t so greedy and hooked on impressing everyone, Dad probably wouldn’t have felt compelled to take money that wasn’t his to take in order to support Mom’s lavish lifestyle.

Dad pulls back and frowns. “We should get going if we want to make it to Granny’s before dark.”

I nod. “Okay. I’ll be right down.”

As I watch Dad leave my room for the very last time, I think about how much has changed between us over the past couple of months.

Dad’s always been the more nurturing parent, so I’m glad he’s the one here to comfort me. He may not say much—less is more with him—but I know he’s always there for me, which is why, right now, I need to be there for him. It’s safe to say we won’t be having an emotional therapy session during our drive to Granny’s because we’ve already had enough talks about the situation. We’ve become really close the last couple of months. He used to be one of those stereotypical workaholic guys before he lost his CFO job at McMullen’s Candy. I think he feels bad about not being around all those years, because lately he’s been trying pretty hard to spend all his time with me. I think he feels responsible for Mom leaving, but he shouldn’t take the blame for her walking out. That was her choice.

When I called Granny a couple months ago to report the news that Mom had left, she just laughed.

“That’s total bullshit,” Granny huffed with her twangy accent. “Your momma left because she’s a gold digger. Plain and simple. I tried to tell Tuck that before he ran off with the little floozy, but no, he didn’t listen. It was just a matter of time before this would happen. Hell, she probably ran around on your daddy long before he lost all his money.”

I love that about Granny. She’s the most real, in-your-face person I know. If you ever want an honest answer, just ask good old Granny. She’ll tell you the truth, whether you really want to hear it or not. I spend more time on the phone with her, telling her all about my life, than anyone else. Of course, I always have to leave some stuff out. It’s embarrassing to talk sex with your grandma. I’m definitely not going to tell Granny anything about that. The last thing I need is for her to get it in her head that I’m anything like my mother, willing to sleep with guys for money.

I pat the door frame of my room and sigh as I turn and leave it behind. Outside I spot Dad latching the trailer door shut on the U-Haul that’s hooked up to a rigged hitch on the back of our expensive Mercedes. It looks completely ridiculous, but Dad says it is the only way to haul the little stuff we have left.

It’s clear it’s time to go. I look around and silently say my good-byes while sadness slithers through me.

I can’t say I’m surprised that my Kappa Kappa Gamma sisters aren’t here to see me off. I’d be kidding myself if I thought any of them were actually
that
close with me. Shit, they wouldn’t have even let me in if I wasn’t a legacy and Mom hadn’t sent me to Lars—her personal trainer—to whip my ass into shape, after high school ended.

At the time, I hated her for it. She just took my hatred in stride, told me it was for my own good, and someday I would thank her for it.

I can’t believe it, but she was right. Being pretty does have its advantages. I’m glad she made me over, got me to lose a ton of weight. I was getting pretty tired of getting pushed around by the in crowd during high school. I was their doormat. But things changed for me. After I dropped the braces and lost the weight, I started a new chapter in life—college. I’d never been on a date until I became a Gamma.

Sasha and Rosemary were the first Gammas to befriend me. I know they were only my friends out of their own selfish greed. It’s easier to get attention from boys when you have pretty sidekicks, and Sasha made sure that I knew that’s why she kept me around—because she said guys think I’m hot. She was my friend out of convenience, so I definitely won’t miss her.

It’s just sad knowing that I don’t have one real friend in my life.

“Wake up, kiddo,” Dad says, while shaking my shoulder a little. “We’re almost there.”

During a big yawn, I strain my eyes against the glaring sun that stings my sleepy eyeballs. As far as I can see, there’s nothing but grass and trees. Everything is so damn green here and there’s no sign of concrete anywhere.

It’s been ages since I’ve been to visit Granny thanks to Mom, and I forgot how far away from everything she lives.

Every now and then, we pass a tiny little house or a trailer parked up on some hillside, and I can’t help but notice how different this place is compared to my life in the city.

It reminds me of the setting for a random, cheesy horror flick. It makes me think that if we do break down, some deformed hillbilly will probably drag us into a dilapidated shack and eat us alive—just like what happened to those kids in
Wrong Turn
.

“Almost there,” Dad mumbles as he turns down a narrow road.

The worried expression that he tries to hide every time he catches me looking at him hasn’t changed much on the ride here. I think he’s dreading living with Granny just as much as I am but he’s trying to put on a good face. It’s been a while since they talked, so I’m sure this is going to be completely awkward for him.

We drive under canopies of big leafy trees, and Dad looks up and smiles like he’s reliving some pleasant childhood memory. I haven’t seen him smile lately. Really smile, I mean. I can tell Mom leaving hurt more then he leads on, even if he doesn’t talk about her much anymore. He turns the air conditioning off as he holds down the little switchy-ma-bob for the windows, allowing the spring air to wrap around us.

He inhales deeply through his nose. “I almost forgot what air smells like without the pollution of city life in it.”

I follow his lead and suck in a huge breath. Huh, the air does feel crisper here. I never really got that old saying before, “Get out and get some fresh air,” but now it’s quite clear. I wonder if pollution really does make the air different in the city, or if I am just delusional from the drive.

We creep along the road and then leisurely turn onto a vaguely familiar gravel lane. I’ve forgotten just how far off the road Granny’s house sits. The grass soars on each side of the car and I roll my window down and stick my hand out, allowing the weeds to tickle my hand as we drive along. This yard is really overgrown and looks nothing like I remember. Granny always took a lot of pride in her yard, but it’s obvious that she needs a little help around here. I’m sure it’s not so easy for her to take care of this place all by herself. It’s been nearly five years since my papaw passed away, and even though Granny acts way younger than her sixty-five years, I still worry about how much time I have left with her.