Wreck Me (Corrupt Legacy Series #2)

My parents rush outside the main house, eyes wide and wearing terrified expressions. They take me in, making sure I am fine, and then my stepfather makes a call.

“First yesterday, now this.”

I know this was the last straw. I could contradict Denny and say it wasn’t on purpose, but I doubt it would make a difference.

I am so exhausted. While the firefighters extinguish the fire, I shove the paramedics away, but they strap me to the gurney, rushing me toward the hospital. Once there, I see people in greater need of medical attention, but money and all, right? Fucking corrupt system.

A doctor and two nurses fuss around me. After cleaning my superficial burns and cuts, they keep me overnight to make sure there is no lung damage.

My parents sit beside my hospital bed with strained facial expressions. It wouldn’t surprise me if that look will forever remain plastered on their faces.

I am acutely aware I screwed up big time, and I should apologize. I should get my shit together, but why would I? I am a screw-up, just like my father.

When I am discharged the next day, Denny drives us home.

I stumble out of the car and halt as what used to be my place is now a brittle foundation of ash.

I salute them and climb the stairs toward my childhood room.

Opening the door, I decide I will deal with whatever shit tomorrow and head into my bathroom. Brushing the taste of tar from my breath, I take a long shower, trying to prolong the inevitable—facing my parents.

Changing into a pair of jeans and a tee, I go downstairs. Contrary to my latest screw-ups, I am not the type who lives for trouble. I’ve been focused on my racing career since before I could start talking. Apparently, the moment my father put me in a race car, that’s where I was silent and focused.

Racing has given me an anchor for the darkness in my mind. I’ve caused my parents headaches and heartache, but mostly because my mind tips from one extreme to another.

I find them at the breakfast table. Through the window, I see the ocean stretching and the sun making its daily ascent to the sky.

A smile curls my lips. My little sister offers me her food, and I pretend to take a big bite of the oat muffin, moaning. She giggles, looking adorable with bits of blueberry all over her face.

“Good morning,” I say and sit down in the chair. A staff member places a plate with an omelet and sliced fruit in front of me. I devour the eggs and fruit, gulping down the orange juice.

A booming silence ensues when my stepfather gestures for everyone to leave us.

“I’m not doing this with you any longer. I refuse to watch you kill yourself under my roof.”

A denial shoots up my throat, but he cuts me off.

“We’re sending you away. For one year. It’s on the East Coast, to Eagleton boarding school.”

We live in California. Santa Monica. So that’s on the other side of the country.

“You’re doing what?”

“If you show me you have changed and put in the work it takes to become the man I know you can be, then—”

“It’s my senior year. Jasmine’s here, my track is here. My team is here.”

“Well, consider this your punishment. If you prove to me you will work on yourself, then next year you can start training again.”

“It will put me behind.”

“You should have thought about that before all this,” he grumbles.

“What makes you so sure I won’t just cause even more trouble there?”

My mother turns to me, worry gleaming in her brown eyes while guilt wrecks me. My heart wishes to confess that I am sorry for being like him, but my mouth clamps shut.

“I refuse to be the mother who enables your behavior. This is your fight.”