Page 14 of Play the Part (Marsford Bay #2)

HUXLEY

S tanding on Ozzy’s small porch, I stare at the muddy grass peeking through the melting snow as I take a large drag of my cigarette. The temperature has stayed mild throughout the holidays.

It’s the crack of dawn on Christmas Day, and I’m the only one up.

I couldn’t sleep.

Thinking about life and all the things I’ve missed over the years.

It’s my second holiday season since I’ve been out, and I still feel like an outsider. It’s as if ex-con is written on my forehead wherever I go. Nothing but a loser who threw his life away and got arrested for stealing a car at seventeen.

I was wide awake in bed, staring at the ceiling for so long that the walls started closing in on me, my skin suddenly feeling too tight and suffocating. I needed to take in some fresh air before I spiraled deeper into my ruminating thoughts.

Ozzy says those episodes are probably panic attacks. I’ll add it to the list of reasons he keeps harping on about therapy. Nothing a hit of nicotine through the bloodstream can’t solve.

The front door opens, and my heart flips when Connie appears. She’s halfway out when she realizes I’m standing there.

“Oh,” she puffs out quietly.

Her red hair is sleep-mussed, and she’s wearing one of James’ long, puffy coats with too-big winter boots. The coat is unzipped, and she clutches at it against the cold, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“I didn’t realize anybody was up,” she adds.

I look away, having trouble keeping eye contact. “I was just about done, anyway,” I grunt, stubbing the cigarette in the ashtray on the porch railing.

She closes the door behind her and steps closer to where I’m standing, keeping the coat tight around her by crossing her arms over her waist.

“Actually, can we talk?”

Great.

“Why?” I respond flatly, flicking my gaze her way, then back to the ground as I chip at a piece of icy snow with the tip of my boot.

I hear her sigh, and there’s a shard of guilt stabbing my ribs for always acting so difficult.

I push it away.

“What happened to your knuckles?” she asks, her tone slightly shocked.

Shit.

As a reflex, I look down at my left hand, the knuckles bruised purple.

Last night, after hearing that Connie was moving back to Marsford Bay, I went out back to expel some of my frustrations and ended up punching the side of the shed.

As irrational as it might be. The very thought of Connie moving back makes me grind my teeth together.

I would rather she’d get out of my life altogether.

Shame forces me to hide my hands in the pockets of my bomber jacket. Even I know that bruising my knuckles because I can’t deal with my emotions is fucking immature.

“Nothing,” I mutter.

Connie blinks. Once, twice, three times; as if not knowing what else to say.

“Huxley,” she says defeatedly, and my nape tingles with my name on her lips. “We can’t keep on ignoring each other like this, especially now that I’m moving back.”

I can feel anger wash over me like a protective shell. “Right.” I chuckle dryly. “God forbid everything isn’t perfect for Connie Broadbent now that she’s decided to grace us with her presence.”

Her mouth snaps closed, and she narrows her eyes. There’s a tense beat of silence that passes between us before she speaks again.

“You know,” she starts, and just by her tone, I know I’m not going to like what she’s about to say. “If you want me to start treating you like a grown-ass adult and not like the teenager I once knew, maybe stop acting like such a fucking brat.”

The word brat pulverizes my ego, and I’m left staring at her without any good comeback. She smirks, pouting her lips ever so slightly as if proud of her jab, and I hate that I feel so attracted to her, even now.

I maintain eye contact, chewing on my pride, but say nothing.

“Can we at least pretend to be civil for everybody’s sake?” she asks hopefully.

Still, there’s a touch of impatience in her voice as if I’m the one being difficult.

Because.

Well …

I guess I am.

Pushing off the railing, I give her a half-hearted shrug. “Sure, as long as you're happy, right?” I step around her to reach for the door. But before walking in, I lean close to her side and hiss next to her ear. “ Your Highness .”

I hear the small tsk leave her lips, but I don’t look back. Smirking just like she did, I close the door and leave her standing alone outside in the cold.

“So, a theatre, huh?”

I look up just in time to watch Connie startle from Ozzy’s seemingly innocent question.

After gifts were opened around the Christmas tree, we all gathered at the dining room table for breakfast. The table is full of large stacks of pancakes, plates of bacon, breakfast potatoes, and whatever else Ozzy felt like whipping up so that everyone could get their favorite.

My brother acts as if Christmas breakfast is a family tradition he needs to uphold or something. As if Christmas was anything but a big fat disappointment when we were growing up. Maybe that’s why it appears to be so important to him now, especially with Charlie still being so young.

A confusing pang of jealousy throbs behind my chest at the thought that Charlie is forming happy memories that we older siblings never had the chance to experience. It’s not his fault, and still, I find space to resent my younger brother for something he has no control over.

Connie nods wordlessly, bringing her hand to her mouth as she chews and carefully swallows. It almost looks like she’s trying to bide her time now that she’s been put on the spot.

Finally, she speaks. “Yup, kind of crazy, right?” She lets out a small laugh, waiting for Ozzy to respond.

“Not crazy at all.” Ozzy smiles.

I roll my eyes.

Always so fucking supportive.

Connie’s gaze shifts to James sitting in front of her, then back to Ozzy at the head of the table, and she smiles back.

“I know it’s impulsive, but sometimes you just have to follow your gut, you know?” She takes a quick sip of her mimosa. She follows it with a nervous laugh. “And sometimes your gut tells you to buy a rundown theatre.”

The table laughs, and I stab my fork into a breakfast potato.

“Oh my god,” James suddenly says, her mouth falling open, as if something just dawned on her. With stars in her eyes, she looks over at Connie. “I’m assuming that you’ll need to hire people to help you renovate, right?”

“Yes …” Connie answers a little suspiciously, and my own suspicion spikes right along with hers.

She wouldn’t.

My heart drops when James looks over to me, her smile widening. “You can hire Hux!”

My gaze slams into Connie’s as we both look at each other with horror before returning our attention to James. We protest awkwardly in unison.

“No, no, no, that’s fine,” Connie blabbers politely.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I mutter at the same time, breaking into a cold sweat.

James watches us both in confusion, eyebrows dipping low, then finally settles on me, tilting her head.

“Aren’t you in between construction jobs ‘til spring?” she asks so fucking innocently that I just want to crawl under the table and pretend none of this is happening.

“Yeah, but —” I start to argue.

She doesn’t bother letting me finish whatever excuse I was about to pull out of my ass before looking over to Connie.

“And you will need help, right?”

I watch Connie’s throat work around a hard swallow.

“Yes.”

James is now beaming as if having come up with the answers to all our problems.

“So that settles it then,” she chirps.

Ozzy is sporting a similar expression to his fiancée when his gaze slides to meet mine.

The insufferable duo.

Connie looks over to me again. We’ve been pushed right into a corner. I give her a thin-lipped smile as a silent confirmation of our sealed fate.

Connie’s smile is shaky, but no one at the table seems to notice but me.

“That settles it, then,” she says.