Last To Know

23

"Come on, start," I begged my car, turning the key. This time—the fifth try—the engine caught.

"Maybe we should take my car." Sadie pointed to the street as I backed out of the driveway.

"I'm not opposed to running him over and I don't think you'd approve of blood on your tires."

"You're right," she stared straight ahead. "I'm really sorry, Emma."

"You have nothing to apologize for. You're the only one to tell me the truth while he hid it from me, and so did Mathias, Ezra, and Hayes. I swear to God if they're there too I might punch them all." I flicked my gaze towards her. "Remind me to thank your brother for teaching me the proper way to punch someone."

She ignored that statement. "Hold up," she clutched the seatbelt, "you mean to tell me you've met all of them?"

"Yes," I growled, "those lying, worthless, pieces of shit."

"Is Ezra as hot as he looks in pictures?" She asked dreamily. "He has that gorgeous black wavy hair. God, I just want to run my fingers through it."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I shrilled, "whose side are you on?"

"Yours, of course. It was an innocent question," she frowned.

I shook my head, focusing my eyes on the road.

My anger was building by the second, but beneath that I was hurt. I loved Maddox and I trusted him too, and that's what pained me the most—the fact that I'd been so blinded by those two feelings that I hadn't been able to see the truth staring me right in the face. People were right when they said love made you a fool.

It felt like an hour had passed by the time we made it to his house, although I knew it had only been minutes.

"Stay here," I growled at Sadie.

"But what if you need backup?" She asked. "I have pepper spray."

I stopped with my hand on the door. "You have pepper spray?"

"My mom bought it. It's in a cheetah print canister." She held her keys up proudly, shaking them so that I saw the can.

I shook my head. "Just stay here for now." I grabbed the offending copy of US Weekly, ready to beat him over the head with it.

"Okay," she sat back.

I slammed my car door closed—instantly feeling bad for taking my anger out on an inanimate object.

I marched up to the guesthouse door and reached for the knob. It opened and music blasted me. All four guys were oblivious to me for the moment.

A scream tore out of my throat as I stormed forward. I saw a pair of drumsticks lying on the desk and grabbed one with my free hand, throwing it at Maddox with more force than I thought I had. It connected with his forehead, bouncing off and onto the floor.

The music stopped then as all the guys turned to look at Maddox who'd ceased drumming. He pressed a hand to his forehead, wincing in pain. He glanced up and spotted me, all the color draining from his face. "Emma, I can explain—"

"Explain, what?" I spread my arms wide. "That you lied to me? That you used me? Did you laugh at me behind my back? Did you even care about me at all?"

"Emma," he stood hastily, his stool clattering to the ground, "I love you. Stop this."

"Stop what? Stop telling the truth? You lied to me, Maddox!" I pointed at my chest, inhaling a heavy breath. Tears stung my eyes once more. "I have never felt so betrayed in all my life, not even the day my dad walked out on us and didn't even say goodbye."