Broken Pretty Things by Amber Faye
Chapter 29
“Come in here,kids. We need to have a talk.”
Pietro’s voice is clipped, stern. Dimitri, Ulla and I just arrived home — I did kind of listen to Gunnar and make sure to stick with other people when I left the school — and Pietro was waiting in the doorway leading into the dining room, arms folded across his chest and face tight.
“Me also?” Ulla checks. Pietro shakes his head and dismisses her upstairs with a wave of his hand. She shoots me a look and climbs the stairs, out of view. I turn and blink up at Dimitri, then back over at Pietro, who is leading us into the dining room.
“What’s up?” I ask. It could be any number of things, I realize, adrenaline surging. My mom is waiting, fingers interlaced, at the table. Her lips are a thin line. We know you hooked up with a boy in your room. Was that it?
Or maybe, We know someone broke in and then threatened you.
Potentially, and maybe the worst option: Did you really expose yourself in front of a cafeteria full of students?
Oh, god. The list is so endless that it would be better for me to stop guessing.
“Mom?” I say, and she silently gestures for me to sit down at the table opposite her. Groaning, I lower myself into the chair. Dimitri sits down too, looking equally as confused. Is this about what he did to me on day one? That feels like so long ago, though, that—
“We will just get straight to the point,” Pietro says in his best parent voice, sitting down beside my mom and gently resting his arm on her shoulders. “Two things. Good news, bad news. Good news first.” He speaks in an efficient, terse way that I appreciate. Because he’s going to get straight to the point and put me out of my misery here.
“We’re getting married,” my mom says, eyes sparkling as she gazes up at him. Dimitri and I actually exchange a look, bonded in this moment.
“Cool, congrats,” Dimitri says.
“Dimi,” Pietro warns.
“What? I said fuckin—”
“What’s the bad news?” I interrupt, eyes fixed on my mother. She avoids my gaze, pressing a hand to her chest like I’m making her feel unwell. I spy the sparkling ring for the first time. It’s no surprise they’re getting married — I had pretty much assumed that was why we were moving in with him. But it’s nice he proposed, I guess.
“You say it, please,” she murmurs to her fiance. He lets out a heavy sigh.
“I will cut to the chase,” he rumbles, and for the first time I hear that he has an accent. Wow, we’ve pretty much exchanged seven words since we met. “You two. We know. And it has to stop.”
I nod along, expecting more. “You mean how …” I’m about to talk about how Dimitri joined forces with my old friends to make me miserable, but then my mother sucks in a breath and lets out a sob.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Dimitri asks his father.
“How long has it been going on?” my mother squeaks, clamping a hand over her mouth. Pietro holds her tight. “The whole time?”
“You have only lived with your sister for a week,” Pietro hisses to Dimitri. “And you.” To me. “Young women should not act this way.”
“Wait, what?” I ask now, echoing Dimitri.
“We know you two are … sleeping together,” my mother whispers, brushing away her tears. “We know you’re old enough to make certain decisions, but you aren’t 18 yet, Andie, and you certainly aren’t ready to move out, so under our roof you—”
“Wait, wait, slow down,” I laugh. “What makes you think we’re sleeping together?”
They exchange a look. Horrified, I wonder if they heard whatever sounds I made the other night. But I can’t bring that up out of nowhere. I’m not certain I can say any of it out loud. Especially not in front of Dimitri, whose loyalty is very questionable.
“You know that I’m still close to other parents in your school,” Mom says. I wrap my arms around myself. This isn’t happening. My mom? The parents? I’m pretty sure I’ve said this after every single stunt they pulled, but this is too damn far. “They’ve been, well, talking. They thought I should know.”
“How the hell would the other parents know that we’re sleeping together?” Dimitri demands, waggling his hand back and forth between us.
“So you admit it?” Pietro says.
“No, no, we’re not. I mean. She’s not ugly, but fuck, Dad. I’m not an idiot.” He punches the table and I press my hands over my eyes.
“This is not happening,” I say. Then I open my eyes and point at my mother. “You can’t honestly tell me you believe this. Him?”
“This discussion is over,” she says, forcefully, bringing everyone else’s sentences to a halt. “I heard it from some reliable sources.”
“You need to r—” I begin, but she shoots me such a withering look that I sink into my chair. So does Dimitri.
“We are not having our engagement and our wedding ruined by two teenagers being dumbasses and gossip about incest,” Pietro says calmly, laying his hands on the tabletop. We both open our mouths to yell and protest, but my mother gives us both another look. I swear, if they could kill. “From right now, Dimitri no longer lives in this house.”
“What?” we both yell. “That’s not fair,” I add. He is about to defend himself, but he turns and shoots me a confused look. “Where is he supposed to go? This is such a huge, awful overreaction to some untrue gossip,” I add, my voice getting louder and louder as I go.
“Andie, that’s enough,” Mom snaps. I groan in frustration.
“He goes to his mother. No big deal. If he can get up an hour earlier to get to school, then all is fine. If he cannot, well, there are plenty of ways to get a GED.” He folds his arms again, not making eye contact with either of us.
Dimitri doesn’t move at all, but somehow he seems to shrink to a smaller size beside me. There is a statically-charged silence, and then he says, “Mom hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Pietro says, but then even he softens. “She disliked being a parent. Not you.”
Ouch.
“She agreed,” Pietro goes on.
“Please,” Dimitri says, rubbing his palm on his jeans. He glances meaningfully at me and my mom as if he would rather have this conversation without an audience. It doesn’t shake Pietro. I hate it, but I feel pretty bad for him. “I don’t want to.”
“If you don’t want us in the same house, let me leave,” I say. “I’ll go to stay with Hero. Or …” Damn. That’s it, that’s my only friend. And I have no idea if she would have me for as long as it takes to get this taken care of.
“Well,” my mom says after a long pause, looking over at Pietro. “I did just get off the phone with Larissa’s mom, and you staying over there was her suggestion.” She turns back to me. “It’d be good for you two girls to get back to being friends. I'm sure you can get past whatever silly fight you're in. You used to be so close.”
She’s right. I’m just struggling to remember why.
Our dynamic worked well as a group. Now, from the outside, I haven’t found myself missing her at all.
“Andie shouldn’t have to leave because of a stupid rumor,” Dimitri pipes up after a long silence.
My mom actually rolls her eyes at him. She’s being so unlike herself, believing other people over me, and I can’t help but think this is because of everything that’s happened in the last six months. Getting run out of town, almost having to give up her relationship because of me and my high school issues. Her health issues got worse and worse, and I know the stress didn’t help. She doesn’t understand the extent of everything that happened, and she probably thought I was overreacting and embellishing. And now she thinks I’m lying about this.
“Who told you, and what proof did they have?” I force myself to ask, thinking about the disgusting text exchange Dimitri invented between the two of us.
“I don’t want to say. Just that I trust it.” She avoids looking me in the eye and I burn with shame. If Gunnar and the others are responsible for my mother seeing that disgusting faked text chain from me, heads are going to roll. “Stay here with Pietro. I’m going to make some calls.” She pauses, hands on her hips, looking small and frail, but at the same time tight-lipped and unshakeable. “You’re staying with Larissa for at least the week and we can get to the bottom of all of this.” Her gaze moves from me to Dimitri, who flinches under it. “You’re lucky you get to stay here, young man. Your father is being very generous.” She flounces off.
God. This is the worst.
I dare to glance sideways at Dimitri, who finds my eyes for a small moment and then looks away again. Pietro sits with his arms folded tight, unmoving, glaring at his son like he could burn a hole in the side of his head. The dining room clock ticks. Minutes pass in near-silence, and then Pietro gets to his feet and jerks his thumb over his shoulder, in the general direction of the backyard.
“You might as well be useful here. Mow the lawn,” he grunts. Dimitri stands, wipes his palms on his jeans, and heads to the door without argument.
“Sorry, Andie,” he mutters before he heads out. Yeah. If this is because of the stupid rumors he helped start, this is his fault. I can never look my mother in the eye again. I don’t think she even knew I was sexually active yet, and for her to believe something embarrassing like this? This can’t get any worse.
“Andie,” my mom calls, her voice still tense and distant. “Your ride is here in five. Pack a bag. I don’t want to even see you saying goodbye to Dimitri.”
“Mom,” I protest, but I hear a door slam.
I grumble as I shove clothes, hairbrush, whatever else I can find in an overnight bag. Then I haul it on my shoulder as a horn honks outside. I can’t stay with Larissa. I’m going to go there to appease my mom, and then I’m calling Hero. I’ve decided. I’d rather impose on my sweet brand-new friend, if she’ll have me, than my awful old friend.
I get to the front door to find it already ajar, my mom outside and waving to the car halfway in the driveway. A blue BMW. Gunnar Rayne climbs out and ambles a couple of steps towards the house, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face, squinting at the setting sun. His sleeves are rolled up, his shirt is fitted, and his eyes are glowing amber in the sunlight.
My mother sucks in a breath. “Gun, that really you? Come closer.”
I freeze, shuffling backwards.
“My god, look at you! You’ve shot up. You look like a damn linebacker.”
He laughs, and I roll my eyes. He doesn’t look like a linebacker just because he’s taller and broader than he was last year. Gunnar does not need any more confidence than he already has.
“Hey, Jen,” he says in that confident, polite voice. “Just here to drive Andie over to Larissa’s. How have you been?” He laughs as she pulls him into a tight hug. She has known him since he was a young kid — helped him through the death of his mother. I get why she feels the need to squeeze him, lightly rock him from side to side, but it’s weird as hell to see the two of them interacting so pleasantly after the week I’ve had.
“Alright, that’s more than enough,” I say, and my mom breaks away from him. She looks sadly between me and him.
“You two made up yet?”
Gunnar gives her his most perfect smile, which means a lie is coming. “Of course. We’ll always be best friends.” He swings his arm over my shoulder and I stiffen, feeling the corners of my lips pull back with the effort it takes not to tell him to stop.
“That is so wonderful to hear,” my mom says. “After all that drama at the funeral, and then …” Her eyes are sparkling. “You were always such a good influence, Gun. I’m glad to hear it.”
A good influence? Is she high?
“Let’s head out, Andie,” Gunnar says, pressing a hand to the small of my back that might look friendly to an observer, but I can feel fingernails dig through my shirt. “Larissa’s mom is making spaghetti for all of us.”
I trail after him, feeling totally helpless, as Mom smiles and waves — at him, not me. I throw my bag in the backseat and then strap myself into the passenger seat, turning to look out the window as Gunnar starts the car.
“Are you going to explain what’s going on here?” I ask him when we’re on the road. He gives me a broad, plastic smile.
“I already did, Andie. I told you I’d get you out of that house.”
I bury my face in my hands. “That was such a stupid, reckless way to do it. You completely humiliated me in front of my mom. You almost ruined Dimitri’s life.”
“Since when do you give a fuck about Dimitri?” he asks, his voice suddenly taking on a hard edge. I lift my face and look over at him. His jaw is clenched, his eyes on the road.
“Are you starting to believe that I’m sleeping with him, too?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, but his eyes flick up to the roof of the car like he’s already sick of me. Good. I’m sick of him too.
“He was being a little weird about you today,” Gunnar says after a beat. I recall Dimitri saying he was wondering if he should change his opinion on me. I wonder how much that rubbed everyone else the wrong way.
“Whatever.”
We head to the right and up to the fancier part of the suburbs than where Larissa and her family live. “Genius,” I address him. “We’re going the wrong way.”
“We’re going to my house,” he says, eyes firmly on the road. Then he glances at me. “I figure I have a week with you, give or take.” My skin crawls when he says that, and not entirely in a bad way. “I have a week to convince you and your mom to get out of here.” Right.
“Not gonna happen,” I say. “She just got engaged to a Torrent Bay local.”
Gunnar’s expression tightens, and so do his fingers on the wheel. “Not impossible,” he says, mostly to himself.
“Can’t we just go to the police?” I ask. I hate the idea of trying to get JJ Waller in trouble just as much as he does, but if it’s as serious as he’s taking it, we should get somebody else involved.
“And say what? You fucked someone and broke your boyfriend’s heart so bad he broke his own neck?” His words hurt like crazy, and I screw my eyes shut tight for a second. “Sure his brother is angry at you. What are they supposed to do? There’s no evidence. They can’t do a thing.”
“Shouldn’t I get a police report, at least?”
“Do what you want, Andie,” Gunnar snaps. “But you know the cops aren’t going to be able to do anything with one weird text message and a figure you thought you saw when you were half asleep. They’re not your biggest fans anyway.”
He’s not wrong. Everyone here knows everyone, pretty much. The police captain, Dutch, rubs shoulders with the Raynes and the Wallers. A couple of cops, off-duty, were at Cole’s funeral, and none of them jumped up to stop JJ then.
“Still,” I say, quietly. “What about Barkley?”
“I don’t know about Barkley. I don’t know if JJ is going to do something stupid for real. Maybe he was drunk, or high, when he went up to your room.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe it wasn’t even him — plenty of people are pissed at you right now. I just know I don’t feel good about letting anything bad happen to JJ. Cole wouldn’t want that.”
“Someone else. Very comforting,” I mutter. Who the hell else does he think would want to scare me like that?