“Are you alright?” He grabbed both sides of my face.
I nodded. But just him being here and taking care of me made tears come to my eyes all over again. I glanced at Isabella out of the corner of my eye. The expression on her face was priceless. It looked like her head was about to explode. But I wasn’t having a competition with her over who our dad loved most. I was trying to get her freaking locked up before she killed me.
“What happened?” my dad asked, his hands settling on my shoulders.
I hadn’t realized how my story might sound to my dad. Me going into Matt’s room? Lying on his bed? But I didn’t care what he thought right now. I just needed him to know what Isabella had done. “Isabella murdered Sir Wilfred on Matt’s bed. She dressed like me so she could get away with sneaking into his room. There was blood everywhere. And she wrote, ‘You’re next,’ on the wall in Sir Wilfred’s blood. She’s telling the cops that I did it. But I swear I didn’t. I would never hurt an animal. I would never do something like that.”
My dad looked shocked. And hopefully it was about the Sir Wilfred thing and not the fact that it was pretty clear I was sleeping in Matt’s bed.
He turned to the closest cop. “I can handle this from here,” he said.
“But, sir…”
“I said I’ll take care of it.” My dad snapped his fingers and then pointed to the front door.
And the cops…left. They just turned around and walked out of the house. Oh God. It was true. He was a mobster. And he had the police in the palm of his hand. For just a second I was scared of him too. But then he grabbed Isabella by her bicep and pulled her over to me.
“Apologize to your sister. Now,” he added.
“But, Daddy, I didn’t…”
“We both know that you did. Now if the next words out of your mouth aren’t, ‘I’m sorry, dear sister,’ you’ll be spending the rest of your senior year abroad.”
“But, Daddy!”
“Do it. Or else.”
Isabella locked eyes with me. “I’m sorry, dear sissy.” She said it with so much venom, she might as well have said, “You’re next, fuck face.”
My dad snapped his fingers again. Donnelley grabbed Isabella and pulled her toward the front door.
“Daddy!” she screamed.
My dad cringed and then straightened his tie as he walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell. “I’m so sorry about your party, Max,” he said, extending his hand to Mr. Caldwell.
I looked over at Matt’s father. He’d abandoned his fake knife that was pretty much the only way anyone would know he was the crazy guy from Psycho. His arms were folded across his chest. And he did not look pleased. He looked like he had the first night he met me. Like he couldn’t believe a Pruitt was standing in his house.
“You’re sorry?” Mr. Caldwell said, not shaking my dad’s outstretched hand. “Isabella killed a dog on my son’s bed and then wrote…”
Mrs. Caldwell grabbed his arm and cleared her throat.
Mr. Caldwell took a deep breath. “What I meant to say is, perhaps Isabella should no longer be allowed on our property.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” my dad said. “It won’t happen again. But in regards to what she wrote on the wall…I’m almost certain that she was talking about Brooklyn and not your son, so you don’t need to be so alarmed.”
“So alarmed? If that’s true, Isabella threatened your other daughter. And that in no way comforts me when we’ve extended the invitation for Brooklyn to stay at our house.”
“I can guarantee that Isabella will stay off your property.”
“Not just our property,” Mr. Caldwell said. “She’ll no longer be invited to any events hosted by our family either, no matter the location. Or the circumstances. Including the wedding this December.”
Oh fuck.
Chapter 32
Saturday
“What wedding?” my dad asked.
“Matthew and Brooklyn’s of course,” Mr. Caldwell said.
“This December?” My dad shook his head and then looked over at me. “You’ll have to cancel the plans, Max. There’s no way my daughter is marrying your son this winter. They’re sixteen years old. And I won’t let you push your agenda on my kid. Have you lost your damned mind?”
“Do not insult me in my own home, Richard.”
“Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked.
My dad cleared his throat and walked away from the Caldwells without another word. “Not a chance in hell, Brooklyn,” he said as he made his way to the front door.