Page 18 of Van Cort
BEFORE
RHETT – AGE THIRTEEN
It wasn’t until Rhett saw the car pull out of the drive and up the hill that he finally let his breath out. They were alone again. Their father was gone for a week or so. Business in Europe.
He watched as the light snow immediately began to cover the tracks left from the vehicle and couldn’t help wishing that somehow the same could happen to his skin.
The bruises would go eventually, but he knew, full well, that they wouldn’t disappear completely before the next round landed on his body.
They were normal now. It was his own fault.
For years he’d chosen to put himself in the way, chosen to make amends for that time he failed to get them away from this place. West wouldn’t get hurt again. Ever.
At least he had Lara now.
Life had become more interesting with her around over the last few years.
She told them things about school, and socialising, and making friends, or trying to.
And she had a different view of the world because she was poor.
Rhett didn’t really understand why she said that.
It seemed to his thirteen-year-old mind like she had a good life.
Her parents were both there for her every day, her mother worked in town, and he was pretty sure the cottage was tied into the job her father had.
So they must have money. Van Cort must pay well.
She didn’t seem to like anyone at school, but she liked them.
Rhett liked her, too. He liked her a lot.
Something had changed in his thoughts about her over the last six months or so.
He could remember her in the late summer in a swimsuit.
She smiled and laughed, and he wanted to touch her in places he probably shouldn’t have thought about wanting to touch.
He ached when he thought like that. Sometimes it really hurt, and he’d have to touch himself to deal with that kind of pain.
It worked, too. He stopped feeling tense and aggravated after the wet stuff came out.
But then he wanted that again, so he let himself get angsty again.
He should talk to West about it.
She was confusing. She seemed moody and snappy some days, and she made arguments out of nothing.
Neither he nor West understood why. She particularly liked winding Rhett up, poking him sometimes and then backing away, as if she wanted chasing.
He didn’t know whether to chase her or not.
Chasing with West ended up in fighting, and he didn’t think that was right, but he did know that he was beginning to understand the feelings of jealousy that kept flaring inside him.
He didn’t like her alone with West, and he didn’t like her knowing that either.
She did, though. She’d smirk about it and sneak around corners with West, leaving him behind on purpose to make him feel bad.
It almost made him as angry as his father did.
So he was moody back, and sometimes nasty.
Turning back towards the house, he stamped the snow from his boots and went through the halls and corridors until he arrived at the music room.
He could hear her singing while West played the piano.
She didn’t sound like she behaved at all.
She had a sweet voice. It was what Rhett imagined his mother sounded like when she was young.
And Lara always looked so pretty when she sang.
She’d sway back and forth, and somehow, in those moments, he didn’t see the tomboy who poked and goaded him, maybe trying to be one of them.
No, he saw something he wanted, and someone he thought wanted him, too.
The music abruptly stopped, and he heard laughter from them both. They whispered between the snorts and giggles, and then he heard footsteps chasing each other around the hardwood floors.
“No, West! Stop!” she screamed.
More laughter came, and then more whispered, hushed words.
Rhett shoved the door wide open, irritated that they were having fun without him. They both whipped their faces towards him, which were less than a foot from each other.
“What’s going on?” Rhett demanded. Lara backed up a few steps and held the really expensive violin up that he couldn’t see in her grip before.
“He says no one’s allowed to touch it.” She cocked her hip out and glared at them both. “Why not, Rhett? Is that another one of your strange rules?”
Rhett walked over to her and tried grabbing it, sure that his father would kill one of them if anything happened to it. Mrs Avery had already explained it was a hundred years old – one of the best she had ever seen, and that they shouldn’t play with it.
Lara snatched it away and lifted the bow to the strings, spinning around a few times so Rhett couldn’t get to it.
“Give me it,” he snarled.
“Oh, let her play with it,” West cut in. “You’re being boring. Why are you being so weird lately?”
“I’m not being weird. She’ll break it.”
“And?” West sat at the piano and shrugged. “We’ll buy another one. Or the asshole father will. You don’t even like the violin.”
“I do.”
“You do not. You’re just being a dick.”
Rhett looked back at Lara, annoyed that she wasn’t doing what he said, as she dragged the bow over the strings and caused a strained, high-pitched scream of sound. She carried on, going fast over the strings, shoving the bow back and forth to make the sound louder and louder.
“Stop messing around!” Rhett shouted. She didn’t. She smirked at him and danced around, flinging her blonde hair behind her and laughing.
West laughed, too, and joined in with the noise by playing some crappy music alongside.
“Stop. Now!” Rhett shouted again.
“Boring!” she sang, loudly. “So, so boring. So, so dull. So, so weird.” That really started West off.
He ramped up the piano and found a rhythm so they could both sing their made-up song.
It repeated over and over again – the shrill, strained sound of the violin, the full, too loud, choppy sound of the piano, and both of them singing and laughing at him.
Rhett felt like his head was about to explode.
He hated the sound so loud. It was angry, almost violent, and before he knew it, he was storming over to Lara and grabbing her wrist to make her stop.
She shrieked and tried turning away from him.
He didn’t let her. He shoved her backwards, kept shoving, until her back hit the shelves and she winced in pain.
“Let go of me,” she shouted, scowling.
Rhett increased his grip and looked right into her eyes, getting himself closer to her than he’d ever been. “No. I said stop.”
“Screw you,” she spat. “Get off.”
The piano stopped playing.
“Rhett, leave her alone.”
Rhett didn’t want to, and he thought he might break her bones with how hard he was holding her while she struggled. He wanted her to say sorry, though, and to do as she was told, and to have some respect for everything they’d let her be part of.
He glared and kept looking at her eyes, and he felt himself harden in his pants. She must have felt it, too, because she suddenly stopped struggling, went almost white, and widened her eyes.
At the same moment, the weight of West hit Rhett and sent him off balance.
They both crashed to the floor and started fighting to get back up first. Lara screamed and shouted at them, and Rhett felt her hands trying to tug them apart.
He pushed her away from them, knowing somewhere, deep down, that he didn’t really want her hurt, but he was still so obsessed with the feeling of her in his grip that he wasn’t ready for the punch that West landed to his jaw.
All the anger and all the beatings he’d taken, for West - to protect West - came raging to the surface.
He didn’t remember what he did after that, but when he started seeing straight again, he saw West slumped in the corner of the room with Lara looking scared between them.
Silence.
She backed up a few steps towards West, dragging what looked like the remains of the violin in her grip. Rhett watched her move, flicking his gaze between her and the broken violin. She looked okay – not hurt. And so pretty with her wide eyes and open mouth.
So, so pretty.
He looked away from her, muddled and ashamed about something he didn’t understand, as West groaned and sat upright. Rhett was unsure what had happened and unsure what to say or do about it, but whatever had happened, it happened because of her. He knew that much.
Pulling himself over to the shelves, he leaned against them and gazed at Lara and West. He didn’t like it one bit.
Everything felt wrong when it was those two without him, and yet he was desperate for West not to be here with them at the same time.
It was all as confusing as she was. Everything had always been about him and West. Simple. Just them. Alone.
“I told you you’d break it,” Rhett murmured, sullenly.
“Stupid bitch. You should have done as you were told. That’s what staff do.
” Lara looked down at the broken wood in her hand, her bottom lip trembling at his callous words.
“Tell your father he owes us money.” He didn’t know how much.
Or care. That wasn’t the point. He hated her for what she’d caused.
And he hated himself, too, despite his strange need to be near her.
It was wrong. Everything was wrong. “Get out.”
He ripped his gaze from her and looked at West, checking for any real damage he might have caused his brother. West smiled weakly, though. It might have been a smile laced with pain, but they were alright. They’d always be alright, as long as they had each other.
That’s all that mattered.
Lara burst out crying and dropped the remnants of wood to the floor before spinning on her heel and running from the room. He watched her the entire way down the hall, desperate to chase after her and tell her he was sorry. He stayed where he was, though. He wouldn’t apologise to anyone.
Especially not her.