From now on, I'm done wasting my time on any of them.
The next day, I wrapped up all the paperwork at the office. On my way home, I found this massive bulldozer parked right in front of the house.
It was revving up like it was about to flatten Bucky's little doghouse! I bolt forward to stop it, but I tripped over some rocks and hit the ground hard.
My arm burned with pain; my skin was scraped raw and mixed with dirt, blood streaking down like some pathetic war paint.
I remember a time when just a scratch from when I bumped into a random stranger would send Violet and Hazel into a frenzy, rushing me to the hospital for a full-body scan like I'd shattered every bone.
Now? They just stood in the doorway with their blank faces staring at me.
I forced myself up, dragging my beaten body to stand between the bulldozer and what was left of Bucky's home.
That's when Callum looked at Bucky's little house, holding his nose and waving his hand like he was sniffing out garbage.
"Anything from the dead belongs in the trash—especially if it's from a dead dog. Or don't you think that's a problem?"
His smirk—that same damn look he had over a decade ago. Back then, when Dad died, I was so helpless I could only sleep by clutching his photo every night.
But Callum saw his chance. While I wasn't looking, that asshole threw my dad's only photo into the septic tank and even had the nerve to laugh like a lunatic standing in front of me!
"Miss your dad? Go fish his pic out! Dead folks' stuff are cursed. Your poor dad? Better off down there!"
I ran crying to Mom for help, hoping for some sympathy. But instead—she tore into me for making a fuss and locked me up in a dark room for three days! That's how I got claustrophobic.
When I snapped back to reality, I felt rage pounding through me as memories of old and new hatred flooded over me. Just as I raised my hand to shove Callum away, he stumbled and landed flat on the ground.
Violet and Hazel rushed over instantly, practically tripping over each other to lift him up, inspecting his arms and ankles with a look of concern written all over their faces.
The second she saw the tiny scratch on his hand, Hazel's eyes went red with vengeance.
Never one to hold back, she stormed over and kicked me square to the chest, sending me to the ground. She glared down at me with a look that could cut glass.
"Callum's your brother! How could you be this mean?! He was only trying to distract you from grieving over that damn dog, and you dare to raise a hand against him?"
"It's just a dog, Henderson! You're not even worth one of Callum's fingers! Now, go apologize to him, or I'll make sure you regret it!"
Violet just held Callum, calm as ever, not bothering to stop Hazel. But she stared at me with disappointment.
"Look, it's just a doghouse, Henderson. So what if it's gone? Hell, if Callum wanted, we'd even tear this whole villa down and build something better!"
Hearing that stung. Back when she built that little doghouse for Bucky, she joked that they'd keep it around for all of Bucky's future pups to have a place.
And a few years later, when Grandma passed away and Mom dragged me to come back, Violet and Hazel bought this villa to convince me to stay. They said it'd be proof of our friendship—that it'd stay the same forever.
But their idea of forever didn't last long.
I tried to step past them just to grab Bucky's old toys. But Hazel blocked me, stepping right in my way.
"Apologize to Callum first, or you're not getting a damn thing in there!"
I'd lost Grandma, lost Bucky, and now the one thing left—just a few of his toys.
Suddenly, Hazel slammed her foot into the back of my knee, forcing me to kneel. Before I knew it, my knees hit the ground hard.
My manipulative stepbrother flashed me a smug grin for a moment, but as soon as he turned around, that damn innocent expression was back on his face.
"Violet, it's so noisy and messy out here. Can we go inside now?"
