Treacherous by Alex Grayson & Melissa Toppen Read online

  Fucking Rylee. She was the very last person I thought would do something like this. The girl practically had me wrapped around her deceiving little finger.

  Is this her way of paying me back for my part in Oliver’s pranks? If so, I have to hand it to her, she’s a damn good actress, and I was the fucking fool who fell for her tricks.

  I punch the steering wheel, then curse and pull my truck back on the road when it swerves.

  The last place I want to be is at home, so I text dad to tell him I’ll be gone for a few days and he’ll need to ask the neighbor to watch Danielle while he’s at work.

  My head pounds an unbearable beat, my skin feels hot, and my hands swell and ache from using them against Bryant’s face.

  I should stop and calm down, instead I hit the gas and head east.

  RYLEE

  I PRY ONE EYE OPEN and then the other, my head thudding so hard it feels like there’s something inside it, pounding against my skull like it’s trying to escape. Rolling to the side, bright light hits my face from the open blinds, and I quickly look away.

  Groaning, I roll to the other side, my stomach feeling like I swallowed a bucket of nails. What the hell happened last night? I don’t remember drinking anything beyond the two beers I had shortly after I arrived at the party. Truthfully, I don’t remember much of anything after that.

  I attempt to sit up, but only make it a few inches before I decide against it. Resting my head against the pillow, I look up at the ceiling, willing my eyes to adjust to the light.

  Eventually they do, but my vision still seems a little blurry.

  Did I drink more than I realized?

  Did I get so drunk that I can’t even remember how I got home?

  Is this what a hangover feels like?

  Question after question pops into my head, but I can’t definitively answer a single one.

  Certainly if I had so much to drink that I blacked out, I would at least remember drinking more than two beers, wouldn’t I? Then again, my experience with alcohol is pretty limited, so how would I really know.

  A light knock sounds against my bedroom door, and I groan again. The last person I need to see right now is my mother.

  I force myself into an upright position, propping my back against the headboard of my bed, trying to tame my hair as I do my best to sound as normal as possible.

  “Yeah?” I finally answer, the words dragging across my throat like sandpaper.

  The door tentatively swings open and Oliver appears in the doorway. He has a glass of juice in one hand and a plate with a muffin on it in the other.

  What the hell?

  “Can I come in?” he asks, holding up what appears to be his attempt at a peace offering. Given everything, I hate to tell him it’s way too little, way too late.

  “I’m really not feeling well, Oliver,” I admit, too weak and out if it to attempt to give him the attitude I normally would.

  “I figured as much. That’s why I brought you these.” He enters my room anyway, kicking the door closed behind him before making his way to the side of my bed. He sets the muffin on my bedside table before turning to face me. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. After last night, I was worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry, but did I miss something? Since when do you worry about me? Last time I checked, you hate me.” I quirk a brow. Despite my irritation and confusion, I take the glass of juice when he extends it to me.

  Lifting it to my lips, I drink half the contents in one long gulp. The cold liquid feels incredible on my dry throat.

  “I don’t hate you,” he starts, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

  “Yeah, okay.” I snort, setting the glass on my nightstand next to the muffin.

  “I need to talk to you about what happened last night.” He ignores my comment as he turns and grabs the accent chair that sits in the corner of my room. He pulls it over next to the bed before taking a seat.

  “What do you mean? What happened last night?”

  The confusion on my face must answer at least one question that he has, because he nods like he understands.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “What’s what you thought? What the hell is going on, Oliver?”

  “Can you tell me what you remember from the party?” He leans back, crossing one leg over the other.

  “Not much, truthfully,” I admit. “I remember getting there. I remember being with Pierce. I remember having a couple beers. I remember at one point I left to go to the bathroom. Everything gets a little fuzzy after that.”

  “Fuzzy how?”

  “Fuzzy as in I have no idea what happened. I left to go to the bathroom and then woke up here.” I gesture around the room. “But I’m guessing by the way you’re looking at me, you’re not surprised by this information. What’s going on, Oliver?”

  As much as I can’t stand my stepbrother, right now he seems to be the only one who may have the answers to the questions I woke up asking myself.

  “This isn’t going to be easy to hear.” He gives me an apologetic look.

  “Just say it,” I insist when he pauses way too long for my liking.

  “We think you were drugged.”

  My stomach knots so tightly I have to lean forward in an attempt to quell the sudden uneasiness I feel.

  “You mean you drugged me,” I accuse.

  “It wasn’t me.” He holds his hands up in front of himself. “But I understand why you would think that. After everything I’ve done, trust me, I get it. But I promise you, I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Then who?” My voice shakes.

  “I can’t prove it, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure it was Tiffany.”

  “Tiffany?” I draw back. “I wasn’t anywhere near Tiffany last night.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything and you know it. She’s been out for you since the start. And while I will admit it was my fault in the beginning, she’s gone rogue, no doubt fueled by her jealousy over you and Z.”

  “She’s jealous, so she drugged me?” I repeat, hoping it will sound less crazy than it does in my head. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

  “Tiffany is… well, let’s just say she doesn’t like to lose.”

  “What are we, living in some kind of television drama? People actually drug people like this?”

  I can’t wrap my head around it. I knew Parkview was different than Bristol, but this is insanity. It’s like living in two completely different worlds.

  “I wish I could say that was the worst part.” He cringes slightly and my stomach completely bottoms out. A nervous jittery feeling starts at the base of my spine and quickly spreads through my entire body. “Z showed up looking for you.”

  “Why?” I blurt, having no idea why he would come looking for me after everything he’s done.

  “Maybe I should rewind for a second so you can fully grasp the magnitude of what I’m about to tell you.” He sucks in a deep breath and slowly blows it out, nervously knotting his hands in front of himself.

  I’ve never seen this side of Oliver. Right now, sitting in front of me, his posture tight, his expression uncertain, he seems almost… human.

  “Zayden didn’t send those text messages. Julia did.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “The text messages about him playing you, the ones I showed you Friday night, those weren’t from Z. He was never playing you and he had no idea that I had convinced you that he was. When I came home and heard you two upstairs together, I don’t know, I guess I just lost it. Zayden has been my best friend forever. I already lost my mom because of yours, and the thought that I was losing him because of you. I don’t know, I just snapped. When I heard Z’s phone ringing in the hallway, I took it out of his jacket and that’s when the idea hit me. I gave his phone to Julia and told her what to say when the moment arrived. She was hiding in the pantry, listening to us the entire time we were talking.”

  �
��He wasn’t playing me?” I say slowly, almost fearful to believe it. And while what Oliver did is despicable, I’m so relieved to learn that this wasn’t just some game that a part of me doesn’t even care. “Why are you telling me this now?” I ask after a long moment of silence has stretched between us.

  “Because I realized last night how much Zayden cares about you. I had convinced myself that you were just another conquest for him, but seeing him last night, seeing how hurt he was, I knew it was real for him. And I knew right then and there that I’d made a horrible mistake. I did it because I knew it would hurt you. But I never knew that in turn it would be hurting the one person who has stood beside me through everything.”

  “Wait, what do you mean how hurt he was? What happened last night, Oliver?”

  “Someone drugged you. That much I’m sure of. My money is on Tiffany. What Bryant’s involvement in it was, I’m not sure. Maybe he was in on it, maybe he was just the unlucky son of a bitch that got caught in the crossfire, either way—he’s the one who paid the price.” He uncrosses his leg and shifts forward. “I’m not sure how Z knew you were at the party, because he didn’t have his phone, but when I saw him head upstairs, I knew something was up. I followed him, got into the room just in time to pull him off Bryant before he killed the bastard.”

  “I’m not following. Who is Bryant and what does he have to do with any of this?”

  “Bryant is a friend of mine, and a friend of Tiffany’s. He’s also the guy Zayden caught you with last night.”

  “Wait.” I can feel the juice I drank turning in my stomach and for a moment, I’m quite certain it’s about to come back up. “What do you mean caught me with?”

  “Z found you in bed with Bryant. I don’t know the specifics, but he was on top of you and things appeared to be escalating quickly.”

  “Oh my God.” My hand goes to my mouth.

  “You were still dressed, so nothing had happened, yet. But there’s no doubt it would have had Z not gotten there when he did.”

  “I didn’t know.” Tears sting the backs of my eyes.

  “I know that. But Z didn’t. He thought you were cheating on him. After I pulled him off of Bryant, he didn’t stick around long enough to find out otherwise.”

  “Where is he now?” I throw the covers off of me and swing my legs over the side of the bed. “I have to see him. I have to explain what happened.”

  “He’s gone.” Oliver leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs. “He took off last night, told his dad he’d be gone a few days. No one has heard from him or been able to get a hold of him since.” He blows out a hard breath.

  “This isn’t happening.” I drop my face into my hands for a brief moment, not able to fully digest everything Oliver just said.

  “After I got my first real look at you, I knew someone had given you something. Charles helped me get you out of there. You were completely passed out by the time we got home. I had to carry you upstairs.” He sits upright, reaching around to squeeze the back of his neck.

  “Why?” My question seems to catch Oliver off guard.

  “Why?”

  “Why bring me home? Why even try to help me? Why not just leave me there?”

  “Listen, I know what I’ve done is horrible but I’m not a monster.”

  “Yes, you are.” I point my finger at his face. “You did this. All of this.” I gesture to nothing in particular. “If it wasn’t for you making me believe that Zayden had slept with me for sport, I never would have been at that party. I never would have been drugged. And Zayden wouldn’t be off God knows where doing God knows what, believing that I willingly went into the arms of another guy less than twenty-four hours after we slept together for the first time!” My temper flares in my voice.

  “It’s not like I knew this would happen,” he argues.

  “It doesn’t matter if you knew it would or wouldn’t. This is what happens when you play games. When you lie. When you turn people’s lives upside down for your own sick amusement. This. This is on you,” I tell him, pushing out of bed. I sway slightly when my feet hit the floor, but I don’t let that deter me. Straightening my spine, I look down and see that I’m still wearing the same outfit I wore to the party last night.

  “I get why you’re angry. You have every right to be,” he starts, his words cutting off when I spin toward him.

  “Do not tell me what I have the right to feel! Don’t say another fucking word to me!” I scream, my hands shaking so badly I can barely keep them from flailing all around.

  “Rylee.…” He stands.

  Before he can say anything else, my hands connect with his chest, shoving him backward. He stumbles against the chair, barely able to keep himself upright.

  “You are easily the worst person I have ever met.” I shove him again right as he’s recovered from the first push. “I hate you.” My hands connect with his chest again. “I hate you!” I shove harder. “I hate you!” I scream in his face, pure rage igniting through my entire body.

  I draw back to hit him, but Oliver catches my hand mid-air. I try again with the other hand, but again, he’s able to deflect with ease—securing my wrists, one in each hand.

  “Let go of me,” I seethe.

  “Not until you stop swinging at me,” he fires back.

  “You deserve it. You deserve to be hit and kicked and, and, and, ran over with my car,” I stutter, spitting out the first thing that pops into my head. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I do to you? Why are you ruining my life?” The last question comes out on a sob and my shoulders go limp.

  Oliver releases my hands and they fall to my sides as I stumble backward, doing everything in my power not to completely break down.

  “I don’t hate you,” he admits, defeat the most prominent thing in his voice. “I’ve never hated you. I just wanted you to leave.”

  “Why?” I cross my arms in front of my chest to shield myself from him.

  “Because I blamed your mom for breaking up my parent’s marriage. I blamed her for my mom leaving. I blamed her for ripping apart my life. And I wanted her gone. You were the easy target. You are the thing she loves the most. I thought if I could make you miserable enough that eventually it would start to wear on their marriage. I knew that if it came down to you or my father, she would choose you.”

  “So all of this has been to try to drive a wedge between our parents?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

  Oliver had said something of this nature before when I overheard him and Savannah talking, but hearing him say it now, seeing the vulnerability on his face as he opens up to me, it’s a complete game changer. It doesn’t make a single thing he’s done okay. But for the first time I’m seeing him more as a wounded child that’s acting out of hurt, than I am as an evil bully that gets some sick thrill out of hurting other people.

  “Your mom and my dad had an affair. That’s why my mom left.”

  “But they didn’t.” My voice softens. “My mom would never sleep with a married man, ever.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I can and I do. And even if they did, why would you think terrorizing me would get you what you wanted? Did you ever stop to consider that I wouldn’t go to my mom? That I wouldn’t tell her what’s going on because I don’t want to cause problems between her and Paul? I haven’t seen my mom this happy in a very long time. As hard as you were trying to sabotage this whole thing, I was fighting just as hard to make everything seem fine. So essentially, you’ve done all this and accomplished nothing.”

  “I guess I’m starting to see that,” he admits, switching his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Have you ever sat down with your dad and asked him point blank? You’re so busy assuming everything, maybe if you get his side you’ll see things in a new light.”

  “My dad isn’t the easiest person to talk to. And I don’t have to ask him, I heard it all from my mom.”

  “Wha
t parent is easy to talk to? And did you ever stop to think that maybe your mom spoke to you out of anger and hurt that her marriage was ending?”

  “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t. But is it really worth all this, just to avoid having a simple conversation with someone to clear the air and get to the truth? And now, because for whatever reason you thought it would be easier to take your shit out on me, you’ve not only hurt me, but you’ve hurt someone you claim is like a brother to you.”

  “He is my brother.”

  “Given everything you’ve put me through, I shouldn’t be surprised that you would treat your brother that way then, should I? Because now it’s not just me you’ve hurt, but Zayden as well.”

  “I know that. And it makes me sick.” He grimaces. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I’m sorry for how far things went. I’m sorry for all the immature schemes. For invading your privacy. For going out of my way to humiliate you. I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I want you to know it’s over. All of it.”

  “I really hope you mean that.”

  “I do. And I’m going to fix this with Zayden. You have my word. I’ll come clean and tell him everything I did.”

  “He’s never going to forgive me, is he?” I ask in a moment of weakness.

  Even though I know what happened last night isn’t my fault, it doesn’t make what happened any less real. I was still there. I was still in bed with another man—whether things had gotten very far or not. I still betrayed him—or at least I feel like I did.

  “He will. I know Zayden—sometimes a little too well.” He chuckles to himself. “He doesn’t forgive easily, but it’s not you he needs to forgive, it’s me.” His lips turn downward. “I’ve known Z for years and I’ve never seen him tore up over a girl the way he was over you last night. Not ever. And that tells me that you’re really special to him. Zayden is hard to get close to, but if you can break past the barrier and get him to let you in, he’s one of the greatest people you will ever know. He’s fiercely loyal and protective. There isn’t a thing he won’t do for the people he loves. And if I had to guess, I’d say you’re among those people now.”