Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Must be a Hale ramification. Same thing happened to Moffy when he pinned Eliot. A mouth full of blood. Kinda makes me feel more like my big brother, like I did something good in a strange way.
Eliot pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay too,” I tell him. All things considered, this could’ve ended a lot worse. Sharp pushpins are littered across the carpet. Ben or Eliot could’ve rolled onto them, but they managed to avoid needles.
Ben scrapes a hand through his hair, eyes welling up. He says nothing as he gathers his collegiate shirt off the floor and jeans.
“What’s wrong, dude?” Tom asks him.
“It didn’t have to get that far. This didn’t have to happen. I’m tired of seeing everyone get hurt—”
“We’re not hurt. I’m not hurt!” Tom shouts. “You should be more upset over the fact that you split your pants, dude.”
Ben tries to look backwards at his ass, and sure enough, there is a four-inch rip right down the middle, showing off his gray boxer-briefs.
Eliot stifles a laugh. “You tore the ass of The Ben.”
“Way to go,” Tom banters. “Mom will love that bare-assed fashion statement.”
Ben’s chest caves, his throat bobbing. He drops their humor like a fragile egg cracking on pavement.
Tom’s face falls. “Ben. I was joking. Mom won’t care.”
Beckett walks over to console their youngest brother, but Ben is quick. He’s already gathered the rest of his things, and he leaves. One of the bodyguards follows.
Tom exhales as the door shuts. “God, I never know what to say to him sometimes.”
“He’ll be okay,” Beckett says, bending down and collecting the pushpins. He still has Eliot’s phone.
I upright a mannequin and ignore the pain swelling in my mouth.
“Why’d you bring Luna into this?” Eliot asks Tom. “This isn’t about her.”
“This is all about her,” Tom says with heat. “And she wouldn’t want you to burn everything to the ground in her name.”
“I’m right here,” I remind them. “Right. Here.”
Eliot spins to me. “Then you should know that I’m burning everything down in my name.” He points a finger at his chest. “Mine.”
“What’s going on?” I ask both of them.
“Show her the video,” Tom tells Beckett, and after short consideration, Beckett rises and sets aside the pushpin cup to play the video for me. He lets me hold the phone, trusting me with that much.
It’s a five-minute video recording. Muted. Eliot wields a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and he’s shirtless, sculpted abs on display, as he talks to the camera with clear unadulterated rage.
“This isn’t role rehearsal, is it?” I whisper. He’s currently Hamlet in Hamlet, a mega-big role for the fall, but if this has to do with me, he can’t be acting a part.
“It’s not,” Beckett answers.
“He wants to post this on social media,” Tom explains. “It’s a five-minute unhinged rant as he curses out his troupe.”
“They’re dead to me,” Eliot says.
Beckett catches my eyes. “Delete it, Luna.”
Delete it?
I’ve already deleted enough, haven’t I?
I can’t help but think if Charlie were here, he’d tell me to post it. Charlie and Eliot are alike in some ways—it’s the Loki in them, the destructive, mischief-wielding power they cradle and toss like bombs. But they’re also so vastly different.
My mind is whirling. “Why are you cursing them out, Eliot?” And what does this have to do with me? But an outward dread starts thundering down.
You know, Luna.
You know.
Please…no.
Eliot shakes his head, and he’s glowering at Tom again. “I cannot believe you called her to use her as your bargaining chip. She’s our best friend.”
Tom glares. “And she has more sense than you right now, dude. Just chill out.”
“Chill out?” Eliot’s eyes redden with more hurt. “Chill out? How would it feel if someone were to take your vocal cords and rip them out—”
“Eliot.” Beckett gives him a classic what the fuck look.
I wince. “Can we not talk about those hypotheticals?” I tell them.
Eliot and Tom have a brutal staring contest. “This is on you, brother,” Eliot says. “You’re the one about to cause her pain. Just remember that.”
“Then maybe I know her better than you.” Tom stands his ground. “Because she’d want to know.”
I might be a Hale, but I’m not slow.
I’m not an idiot.
I’ve figured it out, okay.
“They fired you?” I ask Eliot. “Your troupe fired you after hearing about my stories?”
Eliot shakes his head once. “No, they’re too spineless for that.” He glares at the ceiling. “They gave me an ultimatum. Either I leave the company or I stop associating with someone that would do damage to their family-friendly brand.” The fury in his gaze doesn’t subside when he looks to me. “First thing I told them was, you realize my parents have a porn tape out in the world? Apparently, past indiscretions don’t matter as much.”
So he quit.
For me.
Because of me.
And here I thought my parents’ companies were the ones going to take a hit. Not my best friend’s career. This hurts worse than any elbow to the mouth.