Fallen Rose by Amelia Wilde
Chapter Thirteen
Haley
My phone rings early, but it doesn’t come early enough. I’m dreaming of Leo again. Leo bleeding. Leo gasping. The buzzing on the bedside table pulls me out of it before it can drag me down completely.
I’ve slept late. My heart beat hard all day yesterday after we came out of Leo’s study. Before we left, he picked up the photo in its frame and put it in my hands. He waited while I put it back on the shelf. And then I couldn’t stand to be apart from him. It felt like fighting against a tide. Or gravity. We talked about dinner and books and nothing at all. What do you do, after a moment like that? I felt torn open by it. Exposed by it. Like all the soft parts of me had been turned inside out and put on display for him. I can only imagine how he felt.
The sun streams through his bedroom window. Bed’s empty. I push my hair out of my face and grab for the phone, fumbling it at the name on the screen. I get it to my ear just in time.
“Petra?”
“Hey, Hales.” My older sister sounds fresh and awake, unlike me. But concern has made her voice higher. And something else—surprise? “Did I wake you up?”
“It’s fine. Are you okay?” I ask, pushing away sleep. Her husband doesn’t like her to have much contact with us. She visits the house once a month, but we barely talk otherwise.
She sounds uncertain. “Of course. I was just calling to say congratulations.”
I run my hand through my hair again. Without Leo in the bed, without him in the room, I feel unprepared. For phone calls. For everything. I want him here.
“Congratulations—for what?”
“For your upcoming nuptials?”
Petra’s the one who did things right. She was in love with this boy who did underground boxing, but of course the family would never approve. Caroline Constantine would never approve. So she picked someone out for her to marry. They were introduced at a party. It was essentially a modern-day arranged marriage, and Petra went along with it.
She was the steady older sister who took care of things. Who got good grades. Who unburdened our dad as soon as she could so he could focus on his work. She’s a good sister. I miss living with her. And now I hear the hurt underpinning her polite question. I know she was torn between leaving and staying. Between making a life for herself and making one for us. She would be devastated if I got engaged without telling her.
A pang of guilt. I haven’t told her a thing about Leo. There hasn’t been a good moment. “Petra, I’m not getting married. I don’t know who told you that, but—”
“The Tribune,” she says. She means the Bishop’s Landing Tribune. “There’s an announcement in the paper today for your engagement. And your wedding.”
Oh, Jesus. Oh, shit.
“It’s right here in the society section.” A page turns. She’s flipping back to it. I can see her standing at the kitchen island of her house, keeping her neutral expression on while she leans an arm on the table and reads. “The Constantine family is pleased to announce the engagement of Haley Constantine, daughter of Phillip Constantine, to Rick Joseph Jr., son of Darla and Richard Joseph of Bishop’s Landing. Invited guests will gather at the Sweetwater Country Club on the second of February—”
I put a hand to my chest. It does nothing to calm down my terrified heart. “No. Petra. Stop. No. This isn’t real. This is—this must have been Caroline.”
“Caroline?”
“She’s been really out of control lately.” Regret wraps itself up in a ball and sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. I should have told Petra everything to begin with. Then it wouldn’t sound like this. It wouldn’t sound like some random accusation.
“What does that mean—out of control?” More confusion has clouded her voice. “Why would she think you were getting married if you’re not? Are you—” She lowers her voice. It makes me wonder if her husband is there. No, he has an office. Maybe there’s a maid or something. “Are you okay? Like, are you leading Rick on?”
Acid scorches the back of my throat and I swallow it. I’m not going to be sick. Not here. Not because of Rick. He was willing to do anything to me for Caroline, up to and including rape. It’s not Petra’s fault she doesn’t know. “I am not leading him on.”
“Hales, I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t understand how this happened. Have you been clear with Caroline? I know she has strong opinions, but she gave me the choice. When I got engaged, we talked about it beforehand. I agreed to it.”
It wasn’t a real choice. I long to tell her that. If she didn’t marry who Caroline wanted, we would have been ostracized from the family. “I was as clear as I could possibly be.”
She had me in her house. She’s capable of hurting people. Of damaging them for life. So Petra’s suggestion feels like a condemnation of what I did, even though it can’t possibly be. She doesn’t know. Petra is assuming that Caroline is the woman we’ve always known. Cold and demanding and judgmental, but not a psychopath. Petra is assuming that Caroline is a garden-variety Constantine. And Caroline, for all she’s done to me, has never done anything to Petra beyond choosing her husband.
“Well, maybe you should give her a call. Set things straight. It’ll be a little awkward, but you don’t want people wondering if they’re invited to a wedding that doesn’t exist.” My sister laughs a little. It’s an attempt to smooth things over, but I’m all jagged edges. I breathe deep, trying to clear that knot from my stomach. Trying not to be sick. A notice in the paper—Jesus.
“I can’t call Caroline.” I don’t know what else to tell Petra. Where to start the story. How to tell it in a way that she would understand. “That’s not really an option for me right now.”
“About that.” She makes a clicking sound with her tongue. Petra always used to do that when she was thinking. She would lean against the countertop and look out the window. “Is that because Leo Morelli won’t let you call her? Is he controlling your actions?”
All of my emotions tumble free. Guilt that I didn’t tell her earlier. Shame that I believed what the Constantines thought about Leo. Hurt that she’s come to such a wrong conclusion. Such a terribly wrong conclusion. “Why would you think—Petra, why would you think he wouldn’t let me call Caroline?”
“Cash told me you were with him. At his house.”
I put my hand over my eyes to cover the burn of my tears. I haven’t heard from Cash, or talked to Cash, since he lured me outside to get kidnapped by Caroline’s henchman. And now he’s telling Petra things about me. It’s more than the rug coming out from under my feet. It’s the whole floor.
“Are you okay, Hales? Should I—” Her voice drops again. “Should I call the police?”
“Jesus, Petra, no. I’m fine. I promise.”
“How did you end up with him, though? That’s not like you. Cash said something bizarre about some papers Dad signed, and I can’t—” This time, when she laughs, the sound is all hurt confusion. “You’re not like that. You don’t date guys like that. Stay at their houses.”
“Guys like that,” I snap, and then I bite it back, I shut it down. Petra doesn’t know Leo, and I haven’t done a damn thing about it. I haven’t told her the truth. I haven’t stood up for him, the way I should have. Not that it’ll ever convince her, or any of the Constantines. It just hurts. Because Rick actually is a guy like that. Rick was the one who told me that I was doing great while he had his hands on me. I didn’t want his hands on me. I detested his hands on me. Thinking about it now makes me sick. Because I know what it is to want someone. I have always wanted Leo. From the first moment I saw him, I wanted him.
“Haley,” she says, and I realize how silent I’ve gone, how cold.
“I’m really, really okay.” It’s a lie. I’m not okay, but it’s not because of Leo. The only reason I’m sleeping at night at all is because of Leo. A tear leaks out from under my palm. Petra can never hear that I’m crying. She would assume it was because of him, when really it’s Caroline. When really I’m tired from being woken by nightmares. When I want Leo to be here.
When I’m not sure if I’ll ever be fine. If we’ll ever be fine. If Caroline won’t leave us alone, then how can we be fine? How can we be happy?
The door to the bedroom opens and closes. A pause. And then swift footsteps over to my side of the bed. Leo tugs my hand away from my eyes, and when I open them he’s on one knee in front of me, dark eyes taking everything in. He runs a steadying hand down one of my legs with enough pressure to keep from setting me off.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” says Petra. “You sound like you’re crying.”
I look into Leo’s eyes. At his viciously beautiful face. The curve of his lips. The mouth that’s been everywhere on me. That I want everywhere on me now. “I promise, I’m not. And I’m also not getting married. I want to be here with Leo.”
Leo narrows his eyes.
“Okay.” Petra sighs. “Will you call me if you need anything? I’m always here, you know. We’re sisters no matter what.”
“No matter what,” I echo. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Hales. Text me soon.”
She hangs up before I can answer, and I let the phone fall to the bed. “Tell me,” says Leo.
“Caroline put an announcement in the paper. For my engagement to Rick.” My chin trembles. “I just—I just don’t think—” The tears come, and damn it, I wasn’t going to do this. I wasn’t going to cry first thing in the morning. “I don’t think she’s ever going to stop.”
Leo pulls me off the bed, down into his arms. He lets me cry until I’m done, running his fingers through my hair, tugging at it when he’s removed all the knots. Little bits of pain and pressure to remind me that it’s him.
What irony, to need pain like this. Or maybe it’s not irony. Maybe it’s meant to be.
He has enough pain to spare.
Even after the tears and shudders have left me, he holds my body. He cradles me, his touch at once soothing and inflaming me. But he doesn’t make me promises he can’t keep. He doesn’t promise to stop Caroline, because she can’t be stopped. It’s like hoping that an earthquake won’t shake the earth. He’s strong, but even stone can shatter.
