Wild Bastard

16

Matthew

"Yes?" I answer my father's call as I walk down the hall.

"Matt, what the hell have you done this time?" His voice crashes into my eardrums, thick with irritation.

I step into my room and shut the door behind me.

"What are you talking about?"

"Lana. I called her a couple of hours ago—she could barely speak. She was hysterical, crying her eyes out."

"That's on her," I mutter, pulling my T-shirt over my head and tossing my phone onto the bed. "She got mixed up with the local freak."

"Listen to me carefully—you're going to stop controlling her immediately. Pissing her off and forbidding her from seeing people won't protect her from ending up like Evelyn."

"What happened to Evelyn was your fault," I snap. "And if it weren't for Lana, I would've moved out ages ago. But you wouldn't give a shit about that, would you? You don't care about her. You don't care about me or Lucas. Just like you didn't give a damn about Evelyn back then. So don't fucking lecture me on how to treat my sister. If you're so concerned, come babysit her yourself, twenty-four-seven. Then we'll talk."

I end the call and toss my phone onto the bed. So concerned, my ass. When Lana needs money, he makes her report every damn expense. But when it comes to his own scumbag habits? No hesitation. Just spends and spends.

On my way to the bathroom, I pause by the nightstand, running my knuckles over the framed photo of my mother.

"I know you're not proud of me, Ma," I murmur. "But this is who I am."

Marina

"Lana, I can't," I shake my head, staring in horror at the pile of clothes on the bed—an entire haul from Lana's closet.

"You can take them, Reenah!" The blonde, still in pink kitten-print pajamas, shoves a silver T-shirt into my hands. "I've already decided. There's no way I can wear all of this alone. And my dad will give me more money later. I want to spoil you! And when he gets here, you need something decent to carry my things in. I have a Louis Vuitton bag."

She tosses a branded travel bag onto the pile of clothes, as if it's nothing. "And we definitely need to get rid of your black one."

Her little nose wrinkles as she pulls my old, worn-out bag from under the bed, shaking out the rest of my unpacked belongings.

I'm speechless. I just watch her, barely processing the fact that all of this is mine now. My fingers graze a pair of beige shorts—soft as a feather, pristine. A rush of joy bubbles up inside me, but I force it down.

It doesn't work like this. I'm not Cinderella. No fairy godmother is handing me luxury for free. At some point, the magic will wear off, and it will hurt. And it's always harder to give up something you've already gotten used to.

"Lana..." I tear my gaze away from the clothes, trying to ignore the elegant buttons on a blouse, the tiny gemstone clasp peeking out from the pile. "This is too much. I don't need all this. I don't even have anywhere to wear it. I wouldn't wear it to work, and I definitely wouldn't wear it to the clinic."

"What clinic?" Her brown eyes narrow with curiosity.

Shit.

"Just visiting a friend," I say quickly, dodging the question. "I'm just not used to gifts like this."

"Well, get used to it!" She grins, kissing my cheek before all but shoving me onto the bed. "Just say you like it and that you'll wear it!"

Do I like it?