Page 23 of Ruin Me
“Vogue!” someone calls from behind, but I don’t stop.
“Hey, Vogue, wait up!”
I ignore the voices of the twins and keep going. My footsteps pound a rapid tattoo on the quag, echoing the frantic beat of my heart.
Lies. All lies, all my life. Lies. Lies. Lies.
Callum catches up with me and grabs my arm to pull me to a stop. I yank it back, glaring at him in fury. Quentin pulls up beside him, and I include him in my glaring.
“You were meant to wait for us,” Callum accuses.
“Fuck you,” I snarl and turn to run, but Quentin is quicker, grabbing my arm and not letting go.
“What is it?” he asks quietly.
“More fucking lies. My funding for this course, it’s fromhim.” The words are acidic, burning my tongue as they spill out.
Callum’s expression shifts, a shadow passing over his sharp features. He knows he’s cornered, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head as he calculates his next move. “You know.”
“Yeah, I fucking know. I knew all along it didn’t add up, but I shoved my head into the sand like a fucking idiot. But yesterday, oooh, yesterday made me see things in a whole different light. The office has just confirmed it. That fucking bastard. Who does he think he is?”
“Your father,” Quentin points out, completely unnecessarily.
“No fucking shit, Sherlock. Thanks for that, asshole.”
“Hey,” he snaps. “Don’t shit all over me, I didn’t foot the bill.”
“Everyone just needs to calm down a sec,” Callum says, showing why he’s the leader of this little group of gangsters. “Vogue, I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but of course, he funded you. He funded your undergrad as well. It’s all he could do without leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for his enemies to find. Not to mention, your mother didn’t make it easy for him?—”
“Don’t you fucking dare bring my mother into this,” I snarl.
He holds his hands up and drops it.
“So now I’m indebted to that fucker anyway. Fuck this shit.” I turn to walk away, but they both follow me. “Go away.”
“You are not indebted to anyone. Aaron doesn’t want you to pay him back. He doesn’t even expect you to talk to him. He knows how hurt you are and that you will never forgive him. It’s complicated, but?—”
“But what? And stop talking for him. If I want answers, I’ll go to him and get them. Right now, I just don’t want to hear his name or think about him ever again.”
“You’re being pig-headed,” Quentin says, stopping me dead in my tracks.
“Oh, am I?” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, you are. Who gives a fuck who paid the University fees? You’re lucky you’re here being able to learn and get a degree. Some people don’t get that opportunity.”
Ouch.
I gulp, knowing he’s right. I’m being a whinging bitch, and up to right now, I’d’ve said I hate whingers. My shoulders slump, and I murmur. “You’re right. But the thing that is getting to me is my mum lying to me. I don’t give a flying crap about Aaron, but my mum? That stings, you know?”
He gathers me to him, and I stifle my sniffle. “I know,” he murmurs into my hair. “I know.”
Callum watches us, his hands shoved in his pockets, jaw clenched like it’s ready to shatter his teeth. The air between us crackles with tension – one part anger, two parts something else. “We’re in this together, Vogue,” he says quietly. “All fucked up, all tied to things we can’t change.”
I pull away from Quentin’s embrace and wipe my cheek. “So now what?” I ask, my voice sounding hollow.
“Now,” Callum says, stepping closer, “you keep going. You use this opportunity regardless of where it came from. You’re here for a reason, Vogue. Not just because of Aaron McGowan or any other shit.”
Quentin nods, his eyes serious. “He’s right. We’ve got your back.”
