Page 23 of Hate Wrecked

RILEY

The party was thriving, the beat of music vibrating through the house—chaos contained in the walls of the mansion. And I wanted to escape it all.

My mother was failing miserably at hiding everything from my sisters. They saw it all. The chaos. The drugs. The sex. The fast and complicated life she was forging with Asa.

I rushed down the hall to the laundry room near my bedroom, the image of Rowan’s eyes in my mind as he took in the chaos around us.

What must he think of this family? Of us?

I shut the door behind me, the thundering of music fading away.

I could hear my heart beating. The drugs and alcohol warring within me.

God. I hate this life. I hate it all. “I want to go home, go home,” I whispered.

The walls around me no longer felt like home.

I was a visitor, a play actor in their twisted facade, their simulation of a life.

I heard a knock on the door, and I knew who it was. I reached for the knob, twisting it and opening the door until I saw his face. I nodded, and Rowan came in, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” This was a phrase he had said too many times.

“Yeah.” I wiped the sweat from my brow. “Just a little loud out there.” I lied. It was a loud house, even when it was quiet. And it was still loud in the laundry room.

“Yeah. It is.” He moved across the room, leaning on the dryer.

I leaned back on the floor-to-ceiling cabinets, the scent of detergent and fabric softener a welcome reprieve from the smoke in the house.

There, things became clean. I wanted to become clean. I wanted my family to become…something else.

“Is it like this at your dad’s house?” Rowan asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “He’s remarried too, but…

I don’t know. His wife is younger than him but doesn’t want to party and do everything Asa likes to do.

They’re starting a family. Another family, I guess.

” I looked down. New sister. I had a new sister who was young enough to be my daughter.

We wouldn’t be close the way my other sisters and I were.

Would I have to take care of her? Or would my stepmother stay strong?

I hoped she and my father would remain together because they were good together.

Not the way my mother and Asa were—fighting and warring against each other. Jealousy and secrets.

My mom thought Asa was cheating on her. And I wish I didn’t know she was right. Nothing about him screamed faithful partner for life.

At least not with my mother.

I thought she was more of an experiment than a wife. He thought having a relationship with an older woman would be fun. He never wanted to marry one. He never wanted stepdaughters. He never wanted any of this, but he took it.

He took this family, and…now it was poisoned.

“Do you like being there more than here? Rowan asked, crossing his arms.

“Yes,” I said. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in my answer. Rowan was the only thing there that brought me joy. The only thing that made me smile.

I missed my mother and who she was, who we were together. And when my sisters were here, they were shells of themselves.

And all I did was worry about them.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered, looking at the door.

“You don’t have to stay here with me,” I responded. “I’m sure you would rather be out there.” I don’t know why I said it. Why would he want to be out there? He didn’t party. He didn’t do the things the guests at the party did. He said he read and hiked. He liked quiet evenings with a good movie.

His blue eyes pierced me. “You know I wouldn't rather be out there.”

“Yeah,” I rushed. “I forgot you don’t party.”

“Must seem pretty dull to you,” he said, looking away.

“No. It seems steady. Steady is good.”

“Yeah. Steady. It’s sort of what I’ve always had to be.”

“Why’s that?” I asked

Rowan looked at the door. “For my mother. She had a hard time after my father. And being in a new country. Sometimes, I didn’t feel like her son; I felt more like a friend.

Which… I see now that isn’t entirely healthy.

She was a good mum, but sometimes it felt like I had to take care of her. So I get it.”

I looked away, burned by his honesty. I didn’t like it. “I don’t want to take care of her.”

“I know.”

“It’s not my job.”

“No, it isn’t,” Rowan agreed.

“I have to take care of my sisters. And myself,” I said, my words like a mantra. “Until they are old enough to live on their own.”

“Is that why you aren’t living alone yet?” he asked.

I was eighteen—old enough to leave the house, to have one of my own. It would be bought by my parents, sure, but still—a safe place to escape the noise. But no, I was stuck in a purgatory of their making, watching my sisters watch the chaos around us.

“Yes,” I said running my hands through my hair.

“I hope you can find a good reason to stay. Something good here, if possible,” he replied. And I wished he knew.

He was all of the good things.

Maybe that’s why I pushed him away after that night. Why I let myself fall deeper into the games Barry played.

Why I convinced myself I liked them.