I’ll Always Be With You (Lancaster Prep Book 4)

WEEKS GO by and I’ve fallen into a dependable pattern. I wake up early and stretch. Go to class. Endure the boring lectures and try my best to focus, intent on doing as well as possible on tests and busy work, so I can graduate and get out of this hellhole.

I spend lunch in the library, most of the time with Sadie, though lately she’s been spending her lunch hour with someone else.

Brent.

I can’t be mad at her for making her dreams come true, but I miss her. And I’m a little jealous. I wish West wouldn’t have ditched me so easily.

After school is over, I dance more. I spend hours in the studio, devoted to it, to pushing myself to the limit and ending most sessions in a satisfied, yet exhausted heap. I dance so hard, I’m asleep pretty much the moment my head hits the pillow, and I wake up all over again the next morning to do the same thing.

I’m staying busy and it’s keeping me preoccupied. I almost feel like I’m back in London at the dance company, where I ate, breathed and slept dance. It’s what I need, what helps me focus, so I don’t get distracted by other things.

Like West. Like his group of friends. Mercedes is still there, trying to cling to his side and make something happen between them yet again, I’m sure. I’m fairly certain she did something to scare poor Cooper off, and he now stays far away from her. West does his best to ignore her. I see the way they interact in class. More like how she tries to interact with him while he pretends that she doesn’t exist.

He does the same thing to me. Pretends that I’m not there, looking right through me. I hate it. His blank stares and blatant lack of awareness makes me angry, and I nurse that feeling, keeping it close to my chest. It’s easier to be pissed than sad over the situation. Sadness is such a useless emotion. All you can do is wallow in it and cry.

Anger? It can fuel you, and it’s exactly what I need to remember how West made me feel when he turned me away. When he said he couldn’t do this anymore, without any real explanation.

I don’t need an explanation, is what I constantly tell myself. His rejection was reason enough.

I’m about to go to my last class of the day when I run into Headmaster Matthews outside the door of my classroom, as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Oh, there you are.” Matthews approaches me, reaching out to grab hold of my arm, but I dodge out of his grip just in time. He drops his hand, his brows drawn together in confusion. “Can you come back to my office with me, please?”

“Why?” I ask warily. What could he want from me?

“You have someone here to see you. Don’t worry, I’ll write up a pass for you to miss this class.”

Curious, I walk back with him to the admin building, tucking my uniform jacket closer to me to ward off the bitter chill. Ever since the rain storm that one night, the weather has been gloomy. Heavy with clouds that don’t allow the sun in. Dark like my mood.

When we enter the administration building, my heart drops to my toes when I see who’s waiting for me, an overly bright smile pasted on her face.

“Darling! I’ve missed you.” Mother throws her arms open as if she’s going to scoop me up in a big hug but I dodge away from her at the last second, not about to let her get her hands on me.

I don’t trust the woman. Look at my sister. She’s almost died multiple times and I believe my mother is somewhat responsible for it.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, sending Matthews a look when he hovers near the open door of his office.

I’m not about to have this conversation in front of him.

Mother senses my reluctance and smiles at the headmaster. “Could you give us some alone time, please?”

“Use my office,” he says, indicating the door with a wave of his hand. “I’ll wait right out here for you.”

I scurry into his office, Mother hot on my heels, and the moment she closes the door I’m turning on her. “What do you want?”

She rests a hand on her chest, appearing shocked at the hostility in my tone. This woman needs to get a clue, I swear. “I wanted to see you. I am your mother after all.”

“Not that you ever act like it, since you don’t give a damn what I’m doing.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, reminding myself of a pouty little child. “What do you want from me, Mother? Tell me the truth.”

Her face crumples the slightest bit and she falls into one of the uncomfortable chairs in Matthews’ office. “I just want one of my children to love me and want to see me. Is that too much to ask?”

I restrain myself from rolling my eyes and stand in front of Matthews’ desk, leaning against it so I’m facing my mother. “What did Sylvie do to you now?”

“Nothing.” Her face screws up in a bitter little mask. “And that’s the problem. She won’t talk to me. She doesn’t reach out to me anymore, and we were so close. Her husband died and now I never see her.”

I don’t bother telling my mother that the moment Sylvie’s much older husband died, she took it as her moment to be free, once and for all, from any constraints—including those put upon her by our mother.

“She’s in mourning,” I remind her, unsure what else I could say to her to bring her the comfort she doesn’t deserve. My mother and sister were close only because Mother made Sylvie be her constant companion. It was never a choice. “Give her some space and time to herself. She’s trying to figure this out.”

When Sylvie married that much older man, I sort of stopped talking to her. Okay, I never talked much to her in the first place. Not over the last few years. There was no point in trying to get close to her. She was erratic and untrustworthy—and I’m afraid she still is.

Mother’s smile is faint as she studies me and she rises to her feet. “I was hoping you would go to an early dinner with me.”

I frown. “You came all the way out here to complain about Sylvie and then ask me to dinner?”

None of this makes sense.

She nods, glancing around the crowded, messy office, grimacing, though her face doesn’t really move. She’s had some recent work done, and while I see no problem with cosmetic procedures, it feels like she’s looking younger and younger every time I see her.

“I’ve missed you. We never have one-on-one time, so I was hoping I could spend a few hours with my youngest daughter. You could tell me how school is going, and what you hope to do once you graduate.”

I’m not in the mood to play mother/daughter catch-up today, though I don’t see how I’m going to get out of this. “It’s a Wednesday, Mother. You should’ve shown up here on a Friday.”

“I’ll do that next time. That way we can spend the entire weekend together.” She clasps her hands in front of her, smiling so widely it looks fake. “Come on. I’ll sign you out and we can go shopping. Then go out to dinner. There’s that one Italian restaurant your sister always raved about to me. I want to try it.”

Pasta is nothing but carbs. But maybe it would be good for me to load up and then dance for at least ninety minutes after our meal. I would definitely have enough fuel to burn off. “Fine,” I say with a sigh, glancing down at myself. “Maybe I should change.”

“You look fine. Beautiful in the uniform.”

“I hate it.” The wool skirt is scratchy and the entire getup makes me feel sweaty and hot most of the time.

“It’s not necessary, Carolina. Now come on. Let’s go.”

I guess I have no choice but to go with her.

WE WANDER the quaint downtown area, popping into shops, Mother not finding a single thing she wants to buy, which doesn’t surprise me. If it doesn’t have a designer label on it or isn’t worth thousands upon thousands of dollars, then she’s not interested.

By the time we’re finished with our so-called shopping, she finally takes us to the Italian restaurant my sister supposedly loves. Despite the still early dining hour, the restaurant is busy, though luckily enough, we’re shown to a small table that’s near the front of the place, thanks to Mother name-dropping to the host, who I’m pretty sure is a manager and might even be an owner.

I scan the giant menu, holding it up to cover my face as my mother prattles on about family gossip. Whit is going to marry his girlfriend Summer soon. My cousin Grant is having another child with his wife. My other cousin Arch is gearing up to start at Lancaster Prep next school year as a freshman and his father—my uncle George—is furious at him.

“He’s a troublemaker. The worst sort. Can’t keep his dick in his pants,” Mother says, sounding absolutely disgusted.

“He’s like … in the eighth grade.” I still can’t believe my mother said the word dick out loud.

“He should already be a freshman. His mother purposely held him back in preschool for one more year because she fretted over him not being ready. The poor dear.” Mother rolls her eyes. “He acted out every chance he got, from a very young age. Your father described him as a holy terror.”

I don’t remember him much, thanks to the age difference. By the time I would’ve started talking to him, I was already gone. In London.

“He’s very handsome.” Mother shows me a photo of my cousin on her phone. He reminds me of Whit. The icy blue eyes, the darkish blond hair. “And an absolute nightmare.”

“I think you’re getting off on the nightmare part,” I tell her, enjoying the offended look that appears on her face.

“I am not. You take that back. I can’t deny that I get a bit of—enjoyment from talking about how awful this boy is, but I definitely do not get off on it. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“You don’t want me to answer that question.” I reach for my water glass, ignoring the way she’s staring at me. As if I’ve suddenly sprouted two heads.

The server shows up at our table, saving me from saying something else to offend my mother, and we give her our orders. The moment she’s gone, Mother is leaning over the table, her eyes narrowed and her voice a nasty little hiss.

“A salad? Are you serious?”

“I don’t want to gain weight.” I shrug.

“Darling, I hate to say this but … do you think you have an eating disorder? There is no reason for you to think you need to lose any more weight. You’re as skinny as a rail and completely fit. You’re taking this eating thing too far.”

I’m offended she would so blatantly ask me that question, especially after dealing with my sister’s own mental issues over the years. “I don’t know, Mother. I feel completely out of control most days and the only thing I can control is what I put in my mouth.” I stare at the basket of bread sitting in the center of the table. I push it toward her. “Have some bread.”

She pushes the bread basket toward me. “No, thank you.”

“Why not? Do you have an eating disorder too?” I widen my eyes, trying to look purposely stupid, and she ignores me, draining her glass of wine and indicating to the server that she wants another.

“Let’s change the subject.” There’s that overly bright smile again. “Tell me about the boy in your life.”

My stomach sinks. “What boy? There’s no boy.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I have eyes and ears all over this campus. I know what’s going on with you and … it’s Weston Fontaine, isn’t it? A fine choice. Far better than what your sister and especially your brother chose for themselves.” She shudders for emphasis.

God, I hate her. I hate that she has spies planted at the school. People she most likely pays to give her information about everyone. About me. I can’t get away with anything here without her knowing about it, and I wonder who the rat is.

Probably everyone on the staff, meaning there are multiple rats. I bet even Matthews is one. Oh, I bet that Vivian bitch rats us all out on the daily. I always see her lurking around campus, where she has no business being.

“His family is worth a lot of money that goes back generations. I love that.” Her eyes are sparkling, she’s so excited. “And he’s very handsome.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I say, dropping my gaze to the table. “We’re not together.”

“Oh, darling. What happened? Were my sources wrong?” Her gaze catches on something in the restaurant. Or more likely someone. “Wait a minute—Is that him over there with that large group of kids?”

I whip my head around, glancing over my shoulder to see a bunch of people I know settling in at a large table. Well, I don’t know most of them, but I recognize their faces. Students from Lancaster Prep, including Brent and Sadie. TJ and a few other boys and girls, including Marcy. And of course, West.

With Mercedes right beside him.

Our gazes meet and she smiles, her eyes glittering with cruelty when she reaches out, running her hand down the length of West’s arm, as if she owns him. He doesn’t even acknowledge her, he’s so busy having a conversation with a boy I don’t recognize, and I turn away, trying to school my face into a neutral expression, but it’s no use.

Mother saw my misery. And now she’ll most likely use it against me.

“Why aren’t you with them? I thought you’d made friends and were accepted into the fold,” Mother says, digging the knife a little deeper into my already stabbed and bleeding heart.

“I don’t know.” I shrug, trying my best to make it seem like their appearance doesn’t bother me. “I’ve been keeping to myself lately.”

“And why is that? You need to get out and meet people. You’re a Lancaster, for God’s sake. You should be ruling that school, as your brother did before you.”

“Sylvie didn’t.”

“Sylvie was barely there.” Mother waves a hand, dismissing my comment.

“I only just started. None of them really know me. How can I rule over a school when I’m a stranger, who only happens to have the last name Lancaster?”

“It doesn’t matter if they know you or not. They will know of you merely because of your last name. Isn’t that enough? That should make you powerful in your own right, being a Lancaster.” Her voice drops, attaching an edge to it. “Don’t be weak, darling. Be strong. Remember who you are and what you’re capable of. And don’t ever forget that you’re a Lancaster. No one can take that away from you. Not even some pretty rich boy who toys with your emotions.”

I sit there in shock, surprised that she’s giving me advice.

Surprised even more that it was decent.