chapter eleven
the art of letting go
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Izzy Windsor held grudges. She was not good at letting things go. It just wasn't in her nature to forgive and forget. She just couldn't forget. There was always a part of her that remembered all the times someone wronged her or did something that rubbed her the wrong way. It was another reason why she didn't have many friends. She didn't trust people. She never let herself trust people. Most of the time, they'd only disappoint her anyway, so there was no point.
Sometimes she thought that part of her was destroying her from the inside out. It put up walls between her and the world around her, preventing her from stepping outside of the bubble she had been born into. It was the part of her that still didn't trust Sarah completely; the part that tried to come up with reasons as to why the Cameron girl was still friends with someone like Izzy. It was the part of herself that she hated. But she couldn't just cut out that diseased section. It was a part of her, after all, and it wasn't something she could just change.
Trust her, she knew how fucked up it sounded. She knew she was fucked up, but it wasn't like she could stop being so . . . well . . . Izzy. She had been born into a family that gained their wealth by screwing people over to benefit themselves. She was a child born to not trust another and do whatever it took to always come out on top. She wasn't meant to trust people. She was meant to hold grudges and ruin people's lives if it meant hers could benefit from their downfall. It was the Windsor way. They wouldn't have been so wealthy without that tactic. And for a while, Izzy forced herself to be okay with that, but then that summer happened and she slowly felt herself hating the idea more and more.
That summer was one Izzy never expected. She expected it to be like all the others, only she didn't have her mother this time around. She expected sitting on the beach, watching life pass her by in a blur. She expected to hang around people she didn't really like for the sake of filling the hole in her chest. She expected to use people in order to feel whole again. It was the Windsor way, and Izzy was a Windsor through and through. But . . . now the thought of those things left a chip on her shoulder and filled her with unease. She didn't want to sit and watch life pass her by. She didn't want to be her father's puppet anymore. She wanted to bite the hand that fed her and chew it until it bled. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand being wrapped around her father's finger, carrying out the legacy that her mother had left behind.
Maybe it had something to do with JJ Maybank and his mission to get on every single one of her nerves. Because, look, she didn't want to admit it but the grudge she held against him had turned into nothing more than an afterthought, and she wondered if maybe there was hope for her. Maybe she wasn't only composed of lies and grudges. Maybe there was more to her than just the Windsor legacy.
It wasn't like how it sounded, though. Izzy just so happened to find JJ not so appalling as the rest of the people in the Outer Banks. She looked at him and his life and she realized hers was spiraling downhill, taking her with it. They were sort of friends she guessed (she wasn't too sure though). And maybe it was because they spent the other day together, burning her old cheer uniforms, but Izzy felt the weight on her shoulders be slowly lifted. She felt freer. She missed feeling like that and she realized she would have done anything to feel that real again.
But, anyway, she didn't let herself dwell on the details too much. She was still Izzy Windsor, and her father was still the vice sitting on her shoulder, reminding her she could never truly be free. It was proven to her just how trapped she still was when she received another text from her father that morning, reminding her that she had to go over to the Camerons' estate and apologize for her behavior at the Midsummers event. (She may have thrown the awards in the trash after JJ and his friends crashed the event. Emphasis on the may have.)
Don't get her wrong, Izzy wanted nothing more than to throw her phone in the ocean and cut all ties with her father, but if she did, William would surely take away her trust fund, and then she'd be fucked. Like so fucked. She wouldn't have any money or . . . well . . . actually, that might have been the only thing she did have, so yeah, she'd be screwed without her trust fund to fall back on. That left her with no choice other than to drive to the Cameron estate and apologize to Ward and Rose for apparently being a so-called disgrace. But if she was being honest, the only reason she decided to go there so early was to see if Sarah was doing all right with John B being in the hospital. She would never admit she cared that much though.
It turned out that Topper pushed John B off some kind of lookout where the Pogues hung out, and gave him a broken arm and a concussion. Izzy wasn't surprised, honestly. The Thornton boy had always been a major asshole, and now with Rafe fueling his every decision, there was no doubt that he'd do something as harmful as nearly killing someone. (Yeah . . . she definitely held a grudge against him and who could blame her?)
So around noon, Izzy pulled into the driveway of the Cameron estate and slid out of her car, walking to the front entrance with her Birkenstocks flopping on the ground. She wore a blue lettuce-edge single button cardigan paired with a blue mini skirt that sat high on her waist. Her signature Chanel sunglasses rested on top of her head to tie her look together. Obviously, she liked fashion. Sue her. She was so tired of people shitting on women for liking feminine things. Society would always find something wrong with her no matter what she did anyway. She was tired of it, so, so what? Fashion gave her a sense of confidence to go throughout her days. And she figured she'd need an extra push to face the Camerons that day. Plus, the color blue was said to have soothing properties, and for fuck's sake, Izzy Windsor needed all the help she could get to stop herself from setting the world on fire.
Izzy brushed off imaginary dirt from her skirt and rounded the corner onto the patio. She really wished she had poured herself some tea before she came (she despised coffee), but it was too late now. She glanced up from her skirt and was about to head for the front door when she caught sight of a figure sitting across the patio where the seating area was located. Her brows furrowed as she took a step forward and tried to make out who was lying on the ground. She blinked once more, her eyes adjusting enough for her to identify the figure as her boyfriend, Rafe Cameron.
What the fuck? Izzy thought as she examined his figure. He was sitting on the ground, cradling his arm to his chest as he ran a hand through his hair. Izzy took one look at this and quickly raced over to him, dropping down beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Rafe?" she asked as her eyes searched his body for wounds. Sure, she hated his attitude most of the time, but she still cared. She didn't want to, but she did. "What the fuck happened?"
Rafe snapped his gaze to meet hers. His eyes softened for a split second before they hardened and clouded over with darkness. "Nothing," he spat as he cradled his arm to his chest and shoved off her hand. He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes, searching her face. "What are you doing here?"
Izzy blinked. "My dad . . . he wanted me to apologize for Midsummers and . . . I wanted to see Sarah," she muttered out as she tried to wrap her head around the situation she had found herself in. She shook her head a second later to shove off her concern. "She called me and said John B was getting out of the hospital today. He's living with you guys apparently. I just . . . I wanted to see if they were all right . . . I guess."
Rafe scoffed. "Since when do you care?" he asked, bitterly. "Whatever. They're not here anyway."
Izzy didn't say anything. She just stared at him, trying to flesh out his mindset, but it kept coming up blank. That happened a lot lately with Rafe. "Tell me what happened," she finally sighed, gesturing to the arm he was cradling.
Rafe looked at her for a moment too long. He appeared to be at war with himself, fighting the urge to spill everything on his mind. But then he sighed and opened his mouth. "The guy . . . Barry . . . who I get the . . . stuff from came by," he admitted slowly. "I didn't get the money to him in time . . . so he gave me this—" He stretched out his arm, revealing a large burn wound. The skin was blistered and oozing, causing Izzy to force herself not to gag at the sight— "and he took my bike. He's gonna kill me if I don't come up with the money."
"Oh," was all Izzy could manage. She didn't know what to say. Of course, this was about his apparent drug addiction. That pissed her off. But this felt different. She didn't know what to do. The words she wanted to say were on the tip of her tongue but refused to spill from her lips, leaving her with nothing to do other than stare at him.
So she didn't speak, instead, she acted on her thoughts. She reached forward and tried to clasp his hand into hers, but he shoved her away and brought his hand back to his chest. Izzy only sighed at his reaction and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was just getting too predictable now. She didn't even know why they were still dating. Maybe it was a habit now. Maybe it had to do with their parents. Whatever. She hated it.
"Don't fuckin' coddle me, Izzy," Rafe spat under his breath as he averted his gaze to the ground. He sighed a second later and put his hands in his hair as he huffed out a groan. He peered at Izzy out of the corner of his eye, then wet his lips and turned to her. "Just look. . . do you think you could write me a check or something? I just . . . I need to pay him. It would only be . . . "
Izzy blocked out Rafe's voice and just stared at him. She stared into those blue eyes that used to make her feel safe, and she realized she only felt trapped. He had changed. He used to make her feel like she mattered, now he made her feel like she was nothing. That boy who looked at her like she was sugar and spice and everything nice had died, and been replaced with this sorry excuse of a man who only cared about getting his next high. He didn't even care that he had become more monster than man.
Her brows furrowed on her face as she studied his features, and then she saw something which sent shivers down her spine. She saw the rest of her life in front of her eyes. But this was different. This wasn't something sweet. She saw the rest of her life in front of her eyes and she hated every bit of it.
In those few fleeting moments, Izzy saw the two of them finding themselves in a marriage without love. She saw them fighting every night over stupid shit like who drank the last bottle of beer. She saw a version of herself crying until she fell asleep because Rafe was out sleeping with other women and lying to her about all the affairs. She saw it all, and then she realized the life set in stone ahead of her was the same one her mother lived.
And then it clicked.
Izzy realized if she stayed with Rafe Cameron she'd become her mother, and not the version of her that she adored. She'd become the part of her mother that let a man make her feel like shit. Izzy had lived through that already. It had almost broken her . . . and it tore her mother to shreds. History would repeat itself, and she didn't want that. Sure, a part of her would always be chasing her mother's image, but she didn't want to become Julia no matter how much people expected her to. She couldn't do that to herself. It'd kill her, and despite what you may have thought, Izzy Windsor did not want to become a corpse.
I need you to be better than me, Julia's voice echoed in her head the longer she stared into the future. Her mother had told her that many years ago, and Izzy obeyed. She had made her mom a promise. She promised to be better than her. But . . . maybe being better didn't mean following in her footsteps, trying to convince everyone she wasn't dying inside. Maybe being better meant forging her own path. Maybe it meant letting go of the past. She could be free. She could if she let herself. And she did.
"What happened to you?" Izzy blurted out, shocked at her own words.
Rafe stared at her in confusion. "I just told you."
Izzy could hear her heart pounding in her ears, but she didn't dare stop. "No, I mean what happened to you?" she asked, her voice dripping with poison. "You used to be the one person I went to for everything. You used to make me feel like I meant something. Now you call me a slut and treat me like shit." Tears welled in her eyes now. She didn't know why she was crying and she didn't want to, but she couldn't stop the tears from spilling over her cheeks. "It was the anniversary of my mom's death and you didn't even call me. You were there when she died, Rafe. You were there for me. And now you don't even care. You don't fucking care about me. All you care about is your drugs, and you treat me like all I'm good for is sex and money. That's fucked up."
Rafe looked at her in confusion, and then he began to laugh. It wasn't a warm laugh, either. It was the kind of laugh that sent chills down your spine and left an uneasy feeling in your chest. "What? You're crying now? Wow. What else is new?" he scoffed as he shook his head. "You know what's fucked up? You accusing me of this shit. Obviously I care."
Izzy didn't care if pretty girls didn't cry, she fucking hated feeling like this and she didn't care about stopping. She only ignored the tears and shook her head at the boy. "I'm tired of this, Rafe," she muttered, giving him a small shrug. This was it. It was the final straw. "I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to be with you. I can't and I won't."
Rafe furrowed his brows. "What are you saying?" he asked, his voice softer now.
Izzy wiped the tears from her cheeks then stood to her feet and stared down at him with her arms crossed over her chest. "We're done," she spat. "I'm . . . I'm breaking up with you."
Rafe's eyes clouded over, and he glared at her. "It's him, isn't it?" he bit out as he stood to his feet and approached her, towering over her small frame. The 'him' was obviously JJ Maybank, who had seemingly gotten under Rafe's skin, but this wasn't about the boy. This had nothing to do with JJ. It had everything to do with the fact Izzy was just tired. She wanted out, and she realized only she could free herself.
With her newfound voice, Izzy refused to falter, and instead, she straightened her posture and glared up at him. "No," she muttered through gritted teeth. "It's you. You've changed. You are literally ripping me apart and it's so fucking painful. It's like I can't breathe. Like I'm drowning and you just sit there. You sit there and you don't even try to save me. You don't care. And it's fucking killing me."
That time it seemed her words had seeped through his thick skull, resonating in his brain. His eyes softened a second later as he searched her face, and he dropped his hands to his sides in defeat. He slightly shook his head in disbelief, then wet his lips and opened his mouth. "So what do you want me to do? I can fix this. I just have to get the money from my dad and I can pay this guy off. Everything will go back to normal. We can go back. I promise, okay? I love you," he spewed out, his words quick and hasty. He attempted to reach out to clasp a hand around her arm, but Izzy took a step back.
"You don't love anybody but yourself," Izzy claimed as she trailed her eyes over his frail state. He looked pathetic. She shook her head and sighed. "Look, I don't know if I ever loved you. I don't know if I only dated you to please my dad or whatever . . . but I cared about you. I did. I think I always will. But caring about you has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I don't want to do it anymore. All I know is that I don't want to end up like my mom . . . and if I stay with you, I will. So I'm letting you go. I'm letting you go, Rafe . . . for good this time."
I'm letting you go, Izzy told herself as she turned around and walked to her car, ignoring Rafe's pleas. I'm letting you go, she thought as she drove home and passed through the green lights, instead of waiting for them to turn red. I'm letting you go, she repeated as she grabbed kitchen scissors and went to her bathroom to cut her hair just a little above her shoulder, chopping off the dead ends. I'm letting you go, she spoke into the universe as she looked into the mirror and smiled at her reflection.
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Izzy Windsor held grudges. She was not good at letting things go, but she was learning how to. Like a baby bird learning how to fly, she had to get over her fear of falling in order to take flight. She had to let go of her fears, of the past, and then she could be free. Because the past was a place of learning, not a place of living, and she couldn't hide behind her mother's shadow for the rest of her life or else she'd become a corpse, a dead girl walking. She was learning the art of letting go. It was just a few steps, and she could only hope she was on the right path.
I'm letting you go, her voice rang in her head, echoing throughout and cementing in her brain. She smiled at the words as she grabbed a few of her paints and began painting stars on her wall. The stars meant a lot to her; they made things easier. So, she painted and painted until the wall slowly turned into a starry mural. It wasn't anything special, but it resonated with her. This was how she let things go, with a paintbrush in her hand and a warmth growing in her chest.
Only after she finished the painting did she realize the weight on her chest felt lighter. She felt lighter. This was the art of letting go, and it felt refreshing . . . like she could finally breathe. But she wasn't ready to take flight. She was still learning, and that wasn't a bad thing. Some people needed a little extra time, and she happened to be one of them. She realized that now, and the only thing she could do about it was to be patient. She wasn't good at being patient, but she could try.
Izzy told herself to be patient as she put down her paintbrush and decided to hop in her car to drive to the Cameron estate to find Sarah. A part of her still didn't want to need people. It was the part of her that forced her emotions down and claimed girls like her didn't get to show their anger. But Izzy was a wildfire, and she didn't want to be put out. What she wanted was to grab Sarah and tell her all that had happened. She may have also wanted to find out if Sarah was doing all right with the whole Topper and John B situation. Maybe they could let things go together. Maybe they could learn how to cut ties with their dead ends and finally take flight. That wouldn't be the worst.
She pulled into the driveway of the Cameron estate, ignoring the sense of déjà vu which consumed her subconscious. She slid out of her convertible and slammed the door behind her, walking up to the front entrance to find the door was wide open. She briefly glanced over her shoulder, remembering the events which happened just a few hours ago. She was sure Rafe was probably getting high or scrounging for money to pay off his debt, but honestly, she didn't care. He was the dead-end she had cut off, and as she pushed open the door and stepped into the house, she realized that. It brought a small, fleeting smile to her face.
The air felt clearer as she took another step inside the estate and glanced around for any sign of life. No one appeared in the following seconds, and Izzy was starting to lose her patience. Calm down, she told herself, but she couldn't. Because, she planned on finally visiting her mother's grave after she talked with Sarah, so this searching thing was starting to get on her nerves. But maybe it didn't have to bother her that much. Maybe she could ask Sarah to come with her. Maybe Izzy would let her in.
With those thoughts on her mind, Izzy walked through the house, peering into rooms. She ultimately found no sign of life, until she passed by the study and found two figures conversing between each other. She blinked and discovered the figures were John B and Sarah, discussing something in hushed tones. They were so wrapped up in each other, they hadn't noticed Izzy standing in the doorway. Izzy took this as a sign to open her mouth to announce her arrival, but something stopped her. Her curiosity became the best of her and forced herself to keep her mouth closed as she listened in on their conversation.
"So you found the gold?" Sarah asked with her hands on her hips.
Gold? Izzy questioned inside her head as her brows furrowed on her face. What gold? She leaned on the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest, then she curled her hair behind her ear to listen closely to their conversation.
John B nodded his head. "Yes," he said as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
Sarah raised her brows. "But under an axe murderer's house?"
"Well, yeah, kind of," John B muttered as he ran a hand through his brown curls.
Sarah smiled a warm smile. It spread to her eyes and made her glow with warmth. "That's perfect," she exclaimed. Her smile slowly slipped from her face a second later and she sighed before she shook her head. "I kind of wish I was there with you guys." Her voice was lower now, quieter even. She seemed disappointed . . . maybe even jealous.
"Well—" John B grinned down at her and shrugged— "you'll be there for real tonight."
What the fuck? Izzy questioned as she tuned them out and focused on her thoughts. She didn't know what they were talking about. The conversation was about gold . . . under an axe murderer's house which just seemed so . . . dumb. Maybe they were talking about a movie. Or maybe it was some game they made up. Either explanation seemed stupid. Or maybe it had to do with—
And then it clicked.
John B's father disappeared a few months back after claiming he was going to find the gold from the Royal Merchant. Everyone thought he was insane. Even Izzy's father claimed the man had lost his mind, and was searching for ways to cling onto whatever sanity he had left. He had called him a deadbeat, and Izzy believed him. Maybe she had been wrong. She knew never to trust her father's words . . . JJ Maybank was proof of that. (Don't get her wrong, she still found the boy annoying, but he wasn't what her father made him out to be.)
But forget about her father's fucked up perception of people with less money than him. If they were talking about the same gold from the Royal Merchant, then that was the reason John B's father went out on the ocean all those months ago. He hadn't returned since. He was lost at sea. Most likely dead. And John B was dragging Sarah down that same path.
Izzy couldn't have John B drag Sarah into a suicide mission. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost Sarah, especially when she was just now learning how to let herself let go. She wouldn't have it.
"What gold?" Izzy abruptly questioned, her voice silencing their conversation and causing them to turn to look at her with wide eyes.
"Izzy, what the hell?" Sarah blurted out, staring at her in shock.
Izzy only shrugged at her and then raised a brow. "Gold? As in the gold from the Royal Merchant?" she questioned. "You guys are really going to find that gold? People have been searching for that shit for like decades." She glanced between the two, but neither of them spoke a word. She gave a small scoff in response. "I mean power to you I guess but I just I didn't think you were as crazy as your old man, John B."
"We're not," John B spat as he shook his head. "There's no gold. We were just talking about it."
Izzy gave him a blank look. "Do you think I'm stupid?" she muttered as she walked into the room and stared up at the boy, narrowing her eyes at him. He squirmed slightly under her hard gaze. "I literally just heard you say it's under an axe murderer's house, which I don't know what to tell you, but that seems fake as fuck. It's probably a wild goose chase honestly."
Sarah cleared her throat and stepped forward, standing between her and John B. "Your hair looks nice, Iz," she remarked, smiling slightly at the blonde girl. "Did you go to the salon today?"
Izzy averted her gaze to Sarah's brown eyes, then raised a brow. "You're changing the subject? Low blow," she remarked, scoffing slightly. She didn't mean to sound . . . well . . . like her usual bitchy self, but she was pissed Sarah wouldn't tell her about something that might endanger her life. Sarah knew how much Izzy hated losing people. She knew what it would do to her if Sarah got lost at sea or was slaughtered by this apparent axe murderer. "I thought we were friends, S. Friends don't keep secrets."
The silence consumed them after those words left Izzy's lips, and the teenagers just stared at each other. Betrayal and hurt swirled in Izzy's eyes as she gazed into Sarah's brown ones and searched for the answers she so desperately needed. It shouldn't have gotten under her skin, but it had. She knew she had to stop holding grudges, but she couldn't help it, especially when the people she was supposed to trust kept a part of their lives from her. And, yeah, she knew she wasn't entitled to know everything about everyone, but this was different. This was Sarah, possibly the only real friend she had left, and she couldn't lose her just because a stupid boy convinced her to risk her life for him. She just didn't want to see Sarah Cameron's name pop up on the news channel because she was killed by some axe murderer while looking for gold that was probably just a myth.
Another second passed, and then Sarah slumped her shoulders and released a heavy sigh. "Izzy, you can't tell anyone," she blurted out. "Yeah . . . John B found the gold."
"Sarah," John B scoffed, giving her a look.
Sarah only shrugged. "It's Izzy," she mumbled.
A smile found its way onto Izzy's face, but she quickly masked it with a scowl. She cleared her throat and flicked her eyes back to John B's face. He appeared irritated, and that amused her for some reason. "Is it just you guys going on this suicide mission?" she asked, letting her thoughts control her voice.
John B looked at her for a second, contemplating whether or not he could trust the girl who was known for being a backstabbing bitch. But then something flashed in his eyes, and he sighed in defeat. "No, there are . . . others," he muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest.
There are others. Others. John B didn't have many friends, and like Izzy couldn't judge because she only had one and she wasn't even sure if Sarah liked her that much anyway. But, anyway, that meant only one thing. The other people John B was referring to had to be his friends Kiara, Pope, and JJ. The twine wrapped around her heart tightened as she thought about the Maybank boy. She had to shake her head to clear her thoughts. She shouldn't have been thinking about him right now, but he kept resurfacing in her mind.
Izzy cleared her throat and squinted her eyes at the Routledge boy. "Ah, you've got a whole Mystery Inc. team, huh?" she remarked, smirking slightly. "I'm guessing your friends will be there too? Will JJ?" Fuck. Why did she ask that? She pursed her lips, trying to mask her irritation with herself. She really had to start thinking before she just blurted shit out.
John B furrowed his brows. "Why do you ask?"
"None of your business," Izzy spat. She sounded defensive. Why was she so bothered by this? She didn't know. She wasn't sure if she wanted to find out.
What she did know for certain was that Sarah would follow John B to the ends of the earth, and that meant accompanying him along for this treasure hunt. It meant she'd risk her life by going into that axe murderer's house, and Izzy couldn't have that. Izzy couldn't lose another person, not when she was trying to let go of the past. If she lost Sarah, she'd be pushed too many steps back to ever get on the right path again. She'd be lost without any hope. She'd be the dead girl walking she now feared to become.
That all left Izzy with no other choice than to convince John B into letting her join the hunt. That way she could make sure Sarah would be out of harm's way. Plus, JJ would be there. She didn't really know why that mattered, but she enjoyed burning her cheer uniforms with him, so maybe she'd enjoy this too. She was, after all, bored, so maybe this would help. And it would surely piss off her dad if he ever found out about it, which only convinced her more that she was making the right decision.
A part of her that she had buried, so desperately wanted to bite the hand that fed her, and joining this suicide mission was a definite way to make sure it would bleed when her teeth sunk into the flesh. That thought fueled her, tugging her lips into a small smirk.
"Look," Izzy began as she narrowed her eyes at the Routledge boy and took a step toward him, "I'll keep this a secret if you let me come with."
John B blinked a few times. "Why would you want to do that?" he asked, his voice bitter. It was clear he didn't like her, and she couldn't blame him. "You're literally a millionaire. What do you need the money for?"
Izzy rolled her eyes. "Billionaire," she huffed, then she shook her head and sighed. "But that's not the point. I'm bored and you guys clearly don't know how to get gold bars into cold cash. I do. My father has connections and I can . . . connect you to them."
John B shook his head. "We don't need your help."
"Right, okay" Izzy scoffed. She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Where are you going to exchange the gold then? Huh?"
The Routledge boy shrugged. "I have . . . ways."
Izzy gave him a look and crossed her arms over her chest. "Ways? What ways?" she challenged in a monotone voice. She raised her brows as if to tell him to expand on his claim. "I'll back off if you can give me one way."
After a second, John b sighed in defeat and threw up his hands. "You're a pain in my ass, Windsor," he muttered as he shook his head. He glanced back at her then held out his hand, gesturing for her to shake it. "Welcome aboard."
Izzy smirked and took his hand in hers, shaking it. "Pleasure doing business with you, Routledge," she remarked, her voice filled with pride. She had always been good at getting what she wanted.
A small laugh escaped John B's lips. "JJ says you're . . . persistent."
JJ had talked about her? Izzy ignored the way the twine tightened around her heart at the thought. "You mean manipulative?" she asked, instead of letting her subconscious thoughts control her voice.
John B made a face then nodded. "I didn't want to say—"
"JJ talks about me?" Izzy blurted out. Fuck. Why did you say that? So much for not letting her subconscious take control.
John B's eyes widened slightly before he narrowed them into slits and averted his gaze to Sarah's face. The girl only raised a brow at him, questioning why he was looking to her for the answers. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth before he closed it again. "Um . . . " he trailed off as he brought a hand up to scratch his chin. "Look, now that both of you are on board, I don't know how well the rest of the group will take it."
Before Izzy could question why he changed the subject or why he was acting so weird, Sarah cut in. "What do you mean?" the Cameron girl asked, her voice raising an octave as she spoke. "You said they were fine with it?"
John B raised his hands in surrender. "Yeah, well, that was before Izzy decided she wanted to be Mother Teresa," he exclaimed as he shoved a hand at Izzy.
Izzy only rolled her eyes.
Sarah looked at him, narrowing her eyes into slits. "Did Kiara say something?"
John B shook his head. "No."
Sarah pursed her lips. "You're the worst liar I've ever met," she muttered as she shook her head at him and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Yeah, you kind of are," Izzy added.
John B ignored Izzy's remark. "Look, when it was just you, I thought I could convince Kie to be okay with it, but now that it's both of you . . . " he trailed off, shaking his head. "It's gonna' be hard, but I'll make it work. Okay? I'll make it work."
"I don't want a cut," Izzy abruptly informed before the room could fall into an uncomfortable silence, "so maybe she'll be chill about it."
Sarah glanced at Izzy and sighed. "Iz, you know Kiara," she muttered, shrugging one of her shoulders.
Izzy looked at the girl . . . like . . . really looked at her. She saw the girl she knew freshman year standing before her, telling her they couldn't be friends anymore. And then she saw the girl who ditched Kiara, making her an outsider amongst the people she was supposed to find solace in. She saw the past glaring back at her, and it filled her veins with fire. "Yeah, and we hurt her," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "She's got a reason to be pissed, so maybe if we don't take a cut, then she'll be okay with it. We don't need the money, anyway."
Sarah's brown eyes softened, and she bit her lip, but she didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Izzy knew what she was thinking. They both on some level regretted what they did to Kiara. They had had talks about it from time to time and expressed their concern. But they couldn't just apologize. It was too late. The damage had already been done.
John B cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. "We're supposed to meet the others in like ten, so let's worry about this then," he said as he turned to Sarah and put his hands on her shoulders. He brought his hand up to her face, caressing her cheek. "It'll all work out. I promise." He rubbed his thumb across the apex of her freckled cheek. "She'll be okay with it if I just explain."
Sarah rested her hand against his and held it to her face. "Are you sure?" she asked in a soft tone.
"Yes," John B said, smiling slightly, "once we get with everybody, they'll be excited."
Izzy rolled her eyes at them. She knew she was being a judgmental bitch, but she honestly couldn't stand to watch this. A part of her felt like John B was only using Sarah. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Izzy had been treated like she was just a body for her entire life. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to judge solely based on her experiences alone.
Because here was the thing: Izzy Windsor held grudges. She had a chip on her shoulder from all the men who had treated her like shit and maybe that was playing into her perception of relationships as a whole. But she couldn't help it. She was not good at letting things go, but she was trying. She was trying to learn how to see the past as just a place for learning, and not a place to live. Maybe if she did that, then she could start to believe in love again. And maybe this suicide mission would be the thing to set her free. Because this was how Izzy let things go, with a leap of faith and the trust that someone would catch her before she fell.
a/n: this took me so long to update, i apologize. updates will come quicker now though!! but it was worth it because she dumped rafe the trash bag 🥰 and i'm honestly so proud of her??? like yes?? i can't wait until she breaks out of her dad's grasp & chooses herself.
also i'm putting this in every chapter that rafe is in: so i don't know who needs to hear this, but rafe IS a toxic person. he's a toxic person in the show and he's a toxic person in this fic. i wrote him like this because it's canon to the show. his and izzy's relationship should NOT be romanticized. i am not romanticizing them, and you shouldn't either. so please don't romanticize them. it's not cute. it's not romantic. it's wrong.
thanks for reading!