Page 52 of Save Me (Maxton Hall #1)

James

Sadly, the best night of my life by miles has to come to an end eventually.

Ruby and I tried to pull an all-nighter, but around four a.m., we fell asleep, only to wake up again with a jump about three hours later because we thought we’d overslept, and her parents might already be waiting at the door.

Luckily it was a false alarm, but we don’t have long left.

I find it incredibly hard to let Ruby go back to her room.

I don’t want to say goodbye to her and keep pulling her back to me and kissing her, as if it’s going to be at least a month before I see her again.

But we’re going to be in school together again tomorrow, and I might even see her before that if I can sneak out of the house.

My chances are pretty good. My father considered it a personal insult that I was invited to St. Hilda’s for an interview.

He even offered to pull some strings so I could swap places with Lydia, who—unlike me—did get an interview from Balliol.

I can still hear words like “useless” and “waste of space” swirling around my head.

I don’t think he’ll be interested in how it went.

Percy picks me up in the early morning. He takes my suitcase from me and stows it in the boot of the Rolls before he gets in again and we go to meet Lydia.

The screen is up and the intercom is off, so apparently, he’s not in the mood to chat.

That suits me fine as it gives me another chance to look at Ruby’s list. I don’t know how realistic the items on it really are, but at least it will always remind me of last night.

I’m now wearing the gray T-shirt that Ruby had on until this morning, and her scent clings to me. I feel as though I can still taste her on my tongue, and I get goose bumps every time I remember the way she groaned my name. I want to do that again. Right away, ideally.

When Lydia joins me in the car, she can immediately see that something’s changed. She narrows her eyes at me, looks me up and down, then into my face again. A knowing grin spreads across her features. “You look like you had a good night.” She knows me too well.

I fold the list up again and slip it back into my wallet. It can replace the fuck-you card that I ripped up and threw in the college bin.

“Do I get any details?”

The question surprises me. Lydia might have opened up to me about her and Sutton, but we’re not usually willing to discuss our love lives with each other.

I eye her dubiously. “Since when have you been interested in what I get up to at night?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Since it’s been Ruby you’re messing around with.”

The words “messing around” feel absolutely insufficient for what Ruby and I have. “One, who says it was Ruby I spent the night with? And two, I thought you couldn’t stand her.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “One, I’m not stupid. And two, if you like her, I do too. Simple.”

“That’s good. Because I think you’re going to be seeing more of her, and not just at school.”

Lydia’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious about her?”

I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face. The next moment, Lydia whacks me on the arm. “I can’t believe it! James!”

“What?”

“If Dad finds out, he’ll freak,” she says, shaking her head. Her hand is still on my arm. She gives it a quick squeeze. “But you look very happy. I’m pleased for you both.”

I didn’t know it would be like this. I didn’t know what it felt like to be in love or that the mere thought of Ruby would set my heart racing. I wish I could tell Percy to drive straight round to hers because I’m afraid I can’t survive a second longer without her.

“What’s up with Percy?” Lydia asks, out of the blue, as if she’s read my mind. She’s speaking quieter now and nods toward the driver’s area.

“No idea.”

“He didn’t even ask me how it went,” she murmurs.

“You can tell me,” I offer, but Lydia wrinkles her nose.

“You’re weird when you’re in love.”

I just pull a face.

We spend the rest of the journey in companionable silence. Lydia taps on her phone, and I stare out of the window, thinking about last night. When we reach the house, I walk around the car to help Percy with the cases. He holds out a hand to stop me and looks seriously at me.

“You should go in, Mr. Beaufort.” He hasn’t spoken that sternly to me since I was seven and spilled Coke on the back seat of a new car.

Percy looks from me to Lydia and back again, then gives a gulp and turns his attention to the bags.

Lydia and I look at each other in confusion and walk up the steps to the door.

“What’s wrong with him?” she whispers, even though we’re well out of earshot.

“No idea. Have you spoken to Dad since yesterday?”

She shakes her head, I open the door, and we walk into the house together.

Lydia puts her bag down on the little table next to the front door as Mary, our housekeeper, comes into the front hall.

At the sight of us, she goes as white as chalk.

I’m about to say hello when she turns and heads for the sitting room.

Lydia and I exchange glances again. Together, we walk across the hall and into the room Mary just entered.

Dad is standing at the fireplace. He has his back to us, but I can tell that there’s a glass of pale brown liquor in his hand—and it’s not even midday. The fire in the hearth crackles quietly, and Mary murmurs something to him, then hastily vanishes.

“Dad?” I ask.

He turns, his face expressionless as usual. Even so, the dark rings under his eyes make me feel uneasy.

“Sit down.” He waves toward the green satin sofa and settles himself in the armchair beside it.

I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what the hell is going on here. Lydia takes a seat, but I stay standing in the doorway, staring at my father. He lifts his glass to his lips and drains the rest of the whisky. Then he puts it down on a small table.

“Sit down, James.” It’s an order now, not a request. But I can’t move from the spot. The tension is too much. Something’s happened, I sensed it the moment I walked into the house.

“Where’s Mum?” Lydia asks. Her voice sounds fake, like she’s trying to be cheerful, to lift the mood between Dad and me. But she must know that there’s something wrong here.

“Your mother had a stroke.”

My father leans back in the chair, arms on the armrests, legs crossed with one ankle resting on the other knee. His face is steely. Impassive. Exactly the same as always.

“Wh-what…What do you mean?” Lydia stammers.

“Your mother had a stroke.” He repeats the words as if he’s learned them by heart. “She’s dead.”

Lydia claps her hands to her mouth and sobs. I feel like I’m not really here. My soul has detached from my body, and I’m watching the scene from somewhere else entirely.

Dad keeps talking, but I only take in the occasional scrap.

…vessel burst…came too late…hospital…nothing more they could do for her…

His mouth is moving, but his words are mingled with the wailing sound from Lydia’s throat. I can hear something else too. Gasping. Loud, hasty panting.

I think it’s me.

I press my hand to my chest to try to make it stop. It doesn’t work. I’m breathing faster and faster but can’t seem to get any air. None of the tips I’ve read on the internet about panic attacks are any use to me now. My body switches onto autopilot, making me break out in a cold sweat.

Mum is dead.

She’s dead .

My father’s face doesn’t change. Maybe this is all just a bad joke. Maybe it’s my punishment for not getting an interview at Balliol.

“When?” I’m still breathing hard, but I get the word out. I feel dizzy. The ground is swaying under my feet. I have to hold on to something but don’t remember how to tell my arms they need to move.

My father looks at me, his expression unreadable. “On Monday afternoon.”

My heart. It’s going to stop any moment, or else explode in my chest. At first, I don’t take in what my dad just said because I’m too busy getting air into my lungs. But after a few choppy breaths, the meaning of his words dawns on me.

On Monday afternoon.

Today is Wednesday.

“Let me get this straight,” I say, my voice trembling. “Mum had a stroke two days ago, and you’re telling us this now?”

I shouldn’t have to ask a question like that.

I should go over to my sister and give her a hug.

We should be crying together. But it doesn’t feel real.

It still feels as though this isn’t really happening—it’s happening to someone else who has temporarily taken control of my body, and I’m just watching on. Powerless and totally stunned.

Dad drums his fingers on the armrests. “I didn’t want you to mess up your interviews.”

I can’t explain what happens next. It’s as though a blazing bolt of lightning strikes in my brain.

The next moment, I hurl myself at my father and ram my fist into his face.

I punch so hard that the chair tips over beneath him, and Dad and I crash to the ground.

Lydia screams. Something falls to the ground and shatters.

My fist connects with my father’s indifferent face yet again.

Blood spurts from his nose, and a bone in my hand crunches dangerously.

There are shards of glass all around us.

My hand is burning and throbbing, but I draw my arm back for another blow.

“James, stop it!” Lydia cries.

Someone grabs me from behind and pulls me away from my father. I fight like a wild animal, trying to shake off their firm grip. I want to make my father pay. For everything.

Dad gets up with Lydia’s help. Blood is running from his nose and one corner of his mouth. He touches his face with his fingers and studies the dark redness of it. Then he looks at Percy, who is still holding on to me. “Get him out of here until he’s calmed down.”

Percy pulls me away and drags me down the hall. His arms are so tight around my ribs that I can’t breathe. We crash into a sideboard, and something else falls and breaks. He doesn’t let go of me until we’re outside. I turn on my heel, ready to march back into the house.

“Mr. Beaufort, you have to stop,” Percy says, grabbing me by the shoulders. I push his hands away and shove him in the chest.

“Out of the way, Percy.”

“No.” His voice is firm, and his fingers dig deep into the fabric of my jacket.

“He kept it a secret from us. You kept it a secret from us,” I gasp. I push him again. “My mother is dead, and you didn’t tell me.” The words feel like acid, and suddenly, the burning is everywhere: in my mouth, my throat, my chest, and my eyes. My vision blurs.

“My mother is dead.”

A dull ache races through my body. It hurts so much. I don’t think I can bear it. It brings me to my knees, and I still can’t breathe properly. This has to stop. I have to silence this pain.

My hands are shaking uncontrollably. The next moment, I whirl around and run toward the garage.

“Mr. Beaufort!”

I wave him back. Percy runs after me. My feet carry me to my car.

Hands shaking, I dig the key out of my pocket and open the driver’s door.

My peripheral vision is getting darker, and it feels as though I might faint any moment.

Whatever. Nothing matters a fuck. I start the car.

Percy stands right in front of it. That doesn’t matter either.

I step on the accelerator, and he jumps out of the way at the last second.

Tires squealing, I drive away, wiping my wet cheeks with the back of my hand.