Sultry Oblivion by Alexa Padgett
Nash
Iprodded Aya awake. No, it wasn’t nice, but I didn’t care.
“I just had an enlightening call with your father.”
She wrinkled her nose. “My father? Why would you talk to him?”
“That’s not important now. What I want to know is was he telling the truth? Did your mom specify that we have to have a child in her will?”
Aya paled, and my stomach sank. I hadn’t wanted to believe Lord Aldringham, not really. But now, that look on Aya’s face, the downcast eyes…
I’d loved Sofia Didri-Aldringham. Yet she’d only seen me as a pawn in her game? What even was this game? Nothing made sense. But she was just like my parents—Brad specifically. My breath hitched. Fuck. I hated being used. And that’s what Sofia had planned—to use me for Aya’s benefit. With that realization came rage.
Deep, burning rage.
How dare Sofia—or Brad—treat me like an object? These people put money before feelings. They destroyed kids. No fucking way I’d be part of that.
“I don’t want to have kids,” I said.
Aya blinked at me. “I know that, and I don’t want them now, either.”
Evidently that wasn’t enough for me. “I’m not having kids ever,” I said, my voice bitter. “Definitely not with you.” I could feel everything in me whirling, spiraling. I couldn’t stop spewing out anger.
She stared at me, open-mouthed. “Not with—”
“Not with you. Brad used my mother to access her trust fund—kept her around, strung her along—just like you plan to do with a kid of your own.” My jaw set. “I don’t care how much money the precious bundle unlocks. There’s no way bringing a kid into this would be good.”
Aya stared at me for another long minute, and I watched darkness bleed into her eyes. “This? You mean our relationship,” she said.
“We don’t have a relationship,” I snapped. “Not if you lie to me.”
She flinched as if I’d struck her. “Mama Grace said you might react badly, but I didn’t expect—”
“You talked to Mama Grace about the will? Who else knows?”
She dropped her gaze. “Jenna, Kate.” She raised her eyes to meet mine.
I growled. “So, everyone knew but me?”
She clutched the sheet between her fingers. “No. Not everyone. And I’ve been trying to find a time to tell—”
“I was the only one who needed to know.” I fisted my hands. “What else have you kept from me.”
“N-nothing.”
“Bullshit. Once a liar, always a liar.”
She raised her chin. “I was scared to tell you. I didn’t want you to misunderstand since we’d already had a conversation about children. And you’re reacting even worse than I thought—”
“Don’t tell me how to react. You came back here to use me.”
Her eyes widened, and hurt flared deep. “Nash, you’re not making sense. I came back here because I love you. Because I wanted our chance—”
“Then you should have been honest with me,” I shouted. The tendons in my neck tightened.
“I should have,” she said. “I was going to tell you…”
I snorted. “Doesn’t matter because I’m not going to let you manipulate me. I’m done with that.”
A harsh laugh burst from Aya’s chest. “My mum loved you. She never would have intentionally hurt you. But she did try to protect me from my father. That’s why you were written into the will. She wanted things to turn out the way that made me happy. Funny that you were the one I needed protecting from, isn’t it?”
I scoffed. “Don’t turn this around like I did something wrong.”
“Why? Because you don’t like hearing that you hurt me? You’re not being rational right now.” Aya rose from the bed and stepped away from me. I refused to acknowledge her trim legs and the satiny nightie she wore. She turned toward the door.
“So, go then. Run off,” I taunted. “Hide. Just like you always do.”
She met my gaze long enough for me to see more hurt bleed into the violet, darkening it to black before she smiled. But it was filled with thorns and poison. “I thought you’d changed. I thought you were trying. I thought we had a chance. More fool I.” She strode from the bedroom.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” I yelled as panic gripped my chest, overriding the anger, bringing everything back into sharp focus.
Aya stopped in the doorway, partially in shadow, but I could make out the gleam in her eyes. “You’re the one who said you were done. And maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t try anymore.”
A few moments later I heard the alarm chirp. I ran to the windows in time to see my Tesla’s taillights swing out toward the street.
I dropped my head in my hands and tried to breathe through all the emotions buffeting me.
She’d left me.
I picked up the end table and flipped it. When that didn’t make me feel better, I ripped the sheets off the bed. My chest heaved as I stared at the mess I’d made—and not just of my bedroom, though it was now an explosion of ripped sheets and broken furniture, the splinters bared and ugly for all the world to see.
She’d left me.
Again.
I slumped down the side of the bed, my foot catching on shards of…
Oh shit. Aya’s conch. My breath stilled. No. I shoved the wrecked nightstand out of the way. The shell had shattered.
I touched one of the jagged edges, feeling that way myself. I shoved the nightstand again and a bottle rolled out. Whiskey. Half-filled. Why the hell would this be here? I had no memory of stashing the bottle, and I’d been so careful to remove any temptation.
Because the liquid did tempt me. It would erase all these damn messy feelings. I shouldn’t touch it… I didn’t want to touch it. That’s what I told myself even as I leaned forward and snagged it, my gaze still on the soft-pink innards of the conch. I twisted off the cap. The first long sip did nothing to dull my raging emotions. Neither did the second or the third.
I didn’t remember anything after the fifth.