Freeing Destiny (Fate #2) (32 page)

What a fucking farce!

And this wasn’t even our home, for Christ’s sake! Talk about putting on a show. Every one of my parents’ properties had a wall like this. A museum lined with imposters. Forged happiness. Imitations of togetherness. Bull-fucking-shit!

I walked over the mess I made; glass and plastic crunched underneath my slippers. “Fuck you!” I shouted at the pile scattered on the floor. I hated them all. But even still, I longed for something more than I currently had. Which was nothing.

My brain felt as scattered as the shards of glass that lined the hallway. I felt sorry for myself. As pitiful as that sounded, I couldn’t help it. I was a pretty girl, yet I couldn’t keep a guy for longer than a month. Any girlfriends I managed to make never stuck around because they were jealous wenches. And the people I was supposed to be able to rely on most—my family—were done dealing with the dramas of my past.

How was I supposed to move on and make a new start if no one was around to pardon me?

“Fuck ’em all!” I threw my hands in the air and sauntered into the large bedroom Mom had furnished for me five years ago. I had to focus my anger elsewhere. I flung open the closet doors and searched for something to wear. I’d find a makeshift costume and hit up that bartender dude I hooked up with at last year’s Halloween party. We’d met up a few times since. Nothing special. No questions asked. He was a good time. Had cool friends. Hopefully he’d be free and willing to hang out with the Davis Family Monster. I needed something, or someone, to get my mind off feeling sorry for myself.

One week before Thanksgiving

“Are you serious?” I cried. “You’re going
there
for Thanksgiving? What about me? Don’t you want to be with
your
family for the holidays?” Even as the words fell from my lips, I knew they were ridiculous. Who was I kidding? I could count on one hand how many times I’d spoken to Jack since I came back. And forget about seeing him. He was off limits. Apparently, he was soaking up whatever was left of his time with Stella and she didn’t approve of him spending any of it with me.

“Aubrey, come on.” He didn’t need to elaborate. It was obvious I was
so
not a priority.

“Well, then.” I gulped. Tears gathered in my eyes, at the base of my throat, heated up my insides. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t be alone on Thanksgiving! That’s just—” Pathetic. Tragic. Heartless.

“Too bad. That’s what it is. Why don’t you fly out to the estate? It would be a surprise for Mom and Dad.”

I noticed how he didn’t say a
nice
surprise. He didn’t use an adjective because the only one suitable would not be positive. “Yeah, they’d just love that. They’re not talking to me either, don’t you remember?” I collapsed onto my bed, pulled at the hair at the crown of my head. “Whatever, Jack. I guess this is all part of my punishment.”

“No one’s punishing you, Aubrey. You did this to yourself. I hate to break it to you, but you fucked up and now you have to face the consequences. You’ve always been a drama queen, but you crossed the line when you pulled that wild stunt with Caleb and Gabby. It messed with all of us in different ways, but we moved on because you were out of sight and out of mind. And now you’re back and you think you deserve everyone’s forgiveness? It doesn’t work that way. Forgiveness takes time. We
all
need time and you’re not letting us have it because you keep trying to push your way back into a place that you’re not welcome. Especially with Stella. You need to stop texting her, stop trying to call her, end it. She’s not comfortable with the situation and I’m not so sure she ever will be.” I could always rely on Jack for one thing—the truth. He didn’t beat around the bush, and he wasn’t the type to spare a person’s feelings just to make them happy. And guess what? The truth fucking hurt!

It hurt when Caleb told me point blank that he would never have feelings for someone like me.

It hurt when my sister and brother chose Nina and Stella over me.

It hurt when my father scolded me and wrote me off for potentially wrecking his credibility.

It hurt to lie in bed every night without a single soul to speak to.

I
hurt! There was no other way around it. I was miserable. Alone. And now I was furious.

“Fine, Jack! Have it your way,” I shouted through watery eyes. “I won’t bother you anymore. Happy Fucking Thanksgiving. Don’t choke on your turkey leg!”

I ended the call and flung the phone, skidding it across the king-sized bed.

No more Mr. Nice Guy,
I told myself. This was a new breaking point. I tried but unfortunately I failed. Whatever. I was done caring about any of them. It was me, myself, and I and that meant
I
had to do what was best for
me
.

I would not spend this holiday by myself.
No fucking way!
That would be the lowest of low. An all-time rock bottom. Aubrey Davis was too good to go it alone. I’d show them. They abandoned me when I needed them most. At a time when I was ready to make amends and clear my conscience. Guess the damage was done. But what they failed to remember time and time again was that they couldn’t keep me down for long. I always found a way to stick it to them.

This time was no different. With my ego restored and the devastating sadness morphed into anger, I had an idea. It wasn’t necessarily a good one, but it would definitely get me the attention I so desperately sought.

“What a fucking idiot,” I mumbled as I stuck the key in the lock and turned the knob without a problem. “His head is really up his ass—
or
that bitch’s.” Jack wasn’t happy when I showed up at his apartment unannounced that first night. He barked about changing the locks, but obviously never got around to it. Whatever. It made things easier for me. I thought for sure I’d need to pick the lock or sweet talk a locksmith.

Mission accomplished!
I felt like a super sleuth. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I tiptoed around the dark apartment. No one was home. Perfect. I’d get what I needed and get the fuck out. Finding it was my only minor roadblock. Everyone did things electronically these days. The chances of a paper trail were slim to none, but I tried my luck anyway.

Once inside the empty spare room, I flicked on the light and fumbled around the desk in Jack’s office. I sifted through neatly organized bills and notes, but nothing caught my eye. I was about to head into the bedroom to see what I could find there when my hand slipped, tapped the mouse of the computer and brought it back to life.

The screen illuminated the room and sparked a smile on my face. It was a pink covered Mac with a screensaver of Jack and Stella at the beach. Definitely not my brother’s computer. Which meant it was hers!
Jackpot!
This was the mother lode for a sneaky spy like me. I sidled into the desk chair and placed shaky fingers on the keyboard. I prayed there was no security password and to my utter shock—my wicked prayer was answered.
Hallelujah!

After a minute or two of snooping, I found it. Exactly what I was looking for. Her flight info and itinerary. I took a screenshot of everything I needed and put everything back in its place.

Step one was completed. Only a few more to go.

Two days before Thanksgiving

I should have been exhausted. I’d been camping out in a rental car, a block away from Jack’s place. But excitement swam inside my body and kept me on my toes. Stella should be calling for an Uber right about now. It was almost show time. I waited it out a few more minutes, tucked my long curls into a Dodger’s cap, and stared at the silhouette of Stella through Jack’s living room window. When her movements stilled and the lighting dimmed again, I restarted the car and pulled up to the apartment.

My timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Without making eye contact, I turned my head, popped the trunk and thanked my lucky stars that I’d pulled this off. Stella threw her luggage into the trunk, slammed it shut, and then slid into the backseat. She never looked up at me. Instead, she fiddled with her iPod as she announced her destination.

I took a deep, calming breath and hit the gas. I started out in the direction of the airport, so not to be conspicuous, and when I was certain she was in her own little pathetic world, I made the turn toward my parents’ house where I’d been staying in Palo Alto.

It was another deserted yet fully furnished, property owned by my father. No one had taken note of where I was so it was the perfect place to hide out. I’d take her there until I figured out what to do with her.

Looked like I wouldn’t be alone for Thanksgiving after all.

Jack—Thanksgiving

It had now been thirty six hours since we reported her missing. We were
still
waiting on the goddamn manifest because of the slow as shit pace everyone adopted during the holidays and the fact no one suspected foul play in Stella’s disappearance. I, on the other hand, had a hard time wrapping my head around that. She hadn’t run away. She had to have missed her flight. But it was a waiting game.

The investigators had protocol to follow and I was adamant about expediting the manifest. But unless there was an alleged criminal action associated with her absence, everyone had to assume she simply missed her flight or changed her mind.