by Nora Flite
The gigantic gates spread open as his car approaches.
I don't cry until he's gone.
I'M SITTING IN THE grass near the animal preserve, observing from a distance. I really want to climb the fence. I think if I do, I can get inside. I can explore the trees and get close to the deer. I'll also stop thinking about HIM so much.
Dominic is consuming me.
Footsteps approach. Turning, I see Annie and Silas together.
“Laiken,” he says. I jump to my feet. “Come with us.”
“Why?” I ask haughtily.
I don't see Annie's hand until it stings me on the cheek. It's not a hard hit, but being struck is a brand new experience. Clasping my face, I gape at her. “He told you to come with us,” she states, emphasizing each word, daring me to give her more attitude.
My muscles knot up as blood flows to my cheek. The skin she slapped thrums; I debate hitting her back, because I don't know how else to react. I'm raging. I'm embarrassed. She actually hit me?
Silas hasn't moved. He's an observer. I glance from him to Annie, grasping that she's performing for him. I don't want to see what her next trick is if I disobey again. Straightening up, I nod my head. “Fine. Lead the way.”
They stride back towards the house. I keep my distance as I follow. My mind is racing with a hundred ways to get back at Annie. I don't care if she attacked me to prove something to Silas, or if she did it because he told her to. I can't find any reason to accept her actions.
My parents have never been violent. Kara and I wrestled, we had spats, but we never hit each other. It was never needed—it didn't occur to me that a mother would slap a kid, especially in the face. I'm reminded that I'm not in control here, that I don't know the Bradleys in any sense of the word.
I have to be wary.
It's the only way I'll survive.
When we round a hallway that leads to the sunroom, I freeze. Through the tinted glass I can see someone sitting. Waiting.
It's my dad.
His head comes up, allowing him a second to prepare for the impact of my hug. “Daddy!” I cry, calling him something I haven't since I was small.
He squeezes me so roughly my spine cracks. I try to do the same to him, but I can't and that's fine. Everything is fine, now.
“Oh, Lolly,” he whispers. “How I missed you.”
I'm crying, oblivious to Annie and Silas. I look into his face and laugh. “Where's Kara, and Mom, and baby Dean? Are they here to pick me up, too?”
His smile vanishes. “No.”
Paranoia tugs at my heart. “But you are taking me home.”
He looks beyond me at Annie and Silas. “Can I talk to her alone?”
“By all means,” Silas says, ushering his wife down the hall.
My dad stays quiet until they're out of view. “I'm not here to take you home. Not yet.”
“I don't understand.” Disappointment cools my heart. I pull away, ending the hug. “Then why are you here?”
He runs his fingers through his hair. It's only been a month since I saw him—why does he seem a decade older? “Silas is rewarding me for my recent work.”
Deflating onto the wicker chair, I scowl. “Oh.”
“I'm sorry. But isn't this nice, still?”
Folding my arms, I shut my eyes. “Yes,” I admit. “I only thought... I guess I was sure, for a minute, that this was all over with.”
The wicker squeaks. He clasps my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. “I'm sure it will be soon.”
I believe him because I'm still innocent.
“Soon” turns into a whole year. I spend it enduring the strict home-school teacher they hire for me. When I can dodge her, I explore the estate, running over the tidy grass even as the landscapers shake their fists.
I cling to the word “soon” like it's my last speck of food and I'm starving. I keep faith, and each time it fades, I see my father again and feel it renewed. It goes on like that; him visiting twice a month, me mollified by his presence that soon is coming.
On my eighteenth birthday, I've almost stopped believing.
That day, as we sit in the sunroom sharing a single piece of cake between us, a soldier guarding the door out of earshot, my father leans in to kiss my cheek. The kiss is really a whisper. “The next time I visit, I'm taking you home.”
After six years of living someone else's life, I'll get to see my mother. Cuddle my brother. Hold my sister's hand.
I pop more cake into my mouth to try and hide my rapidly giddy smile.
I'm really going home.
“Soon” is happening.
- Chapter 8 -
Laiken
My long hair is no longer tangled in knots. If you search it, you won't find any brambles. But even though it spends its days restrained in a braid that tickles the backs of my thighs, it's an illusion. My hair is still wild, like my heart.
All the fancy loops and hairspray in the world will never change that.
“Get back here!” Emma groans, flapping her hairbrush.
“You've done plenty,” I say, dodging around my bed to avoid her. “I'm wasting my day in that chair.”
“Just let me add something pretty for once, and—Laiken!”
I laugh from my belly as I rush out of the bedroom. I managed to sit patiently as she wove my hair. But when she tried to add sparkly pins into the mix, I bolted. I've been fidgeting anxiously all day - all night, really. But how can I keep still?
My dad is coming to take me home.
Annie told me last week that he was going to visit tonight. I had to keep my entire face stern so I wouldn't grin. She didn't know this wasn't a normal visit. In the next few hours—I didn't know how yet—Dad was going to get me out of here.
The day is crawling by too sluggishly. It always does when you're waiting for something. I'd lost Emma, so I slip through the kitchen doors, grabbing two biscuits and skipping towards the animal preserve.
Behind the estate, in view of the east side of the house, is a perfectly manicured miniature forest. It's a little over a mile in diameter, and it takes around two thousand steps to cross it. I counted that myself one day.
The fence that rings it is mesh. Deer can't get over it, but I can, and did, until I met the caretaker. Wyatt gave me a stern talking to when he saw me dangling from the lip of the fence. On the surface he seems like a hard man with no patience for anyone but the animals.
I took a quick liking to him.
I see him now as I approach the gate. He waves at me, dropping his shovel so he can pop the lock and let me in. “You look happy today,” he says, squinting suspiciously.
“I guess I am.” I like him, but I don't trust him. Wyatt has worked for the Bradleys since before I arrived. He won't tell me how old he is, says it's rude to ask, but I can guess he's at least my dad's age. That's too much time being loyal to Silas and Annie for my comfort.
He scratches his cheek with a garden-gloved finger. “Fine. Keep your secrets, I don't care.”
“Watch the pouting,” I tease, offering him one of the biscuits. “I bring gifts.”
His sun-browned skin creases by his mouth. “This your way of saying you want something from me?”
“Oh, Wyatt.” A light laugh bubbles from my lips. I feel so good. “You let me come in here whenever I want, you even let me help feed the deer. You've already given me more than I could think to ask for.”
The man's salt and pepper eyebrows dip over his shining blue eyes. He knows I'm being genuine. On the day I met him, he guided me deep into the preserve. In a quiet clearing, surrounded by bird song, he gave me a handful of pellets. To my amazement, a doe appeared from the brush. Wyatt coaxed it to nibble from my palm. I knew then that this place would keep me sane until I could be with my family again.
And now it's time to say goodbye.
There wasn't much I'd miss about the estate. But this was one of them.
The other was... Stop. Don't think about him. I hadn't seen a glimpse of Dominic sin
ce the day he left for school. He never returned for breaks, or vacation, or just to check in on me. There were no letters. Nothing.
I'd only known him for three weeks so, by logic, there wasn't much to dwell on. Yet I still did, especially when it was just me with my thoughts buzzing in the middle of the night.
“You alright?” Wyatt asks, biscuit crumbs sticking to his tan work shirt. “Got a far away look in your eyes.”
I shake myself. “I'm fine.”
“Then eat your food so I don't appear rude.”
Grinning, I take a huge bit from the soft bread. We finish eating at the same time. I didn't bring anything to drink. With easy familiarity, I go over to the water pump by the gate. He wipes his hands on his stained pants then pumps water while I crouch down. Holding my hair out of the way, I drink straight from the spout. It's shockingly cold, hurting my teeth and filling me with energy.
Rubbing my forearm over my mouth, I sigh. “Perfect. Thanks for helping.”
“Not a problem.”
My attention goes to the shovel. “What are you digging?”
“Trench for the rain that's coming.”
Scanning the sky, I shield my eyes. “But it's so sunny!”
He shrugs, jamming the tip of the shovel into the ground. “Storms are on the horizon, trust me. Rain can really soak through this preserve. It makes the ground too soft for the tree roots, causes them to rip out in the wind.”
I nod with admiration. “Can I help?”
His sharp shoulders shrug. “You ask like you expect me to say no this time.”
Flashing a smile, I grab a spare shovel from the small shed by the water pump. I know where everything is. He's right, he's never told me I can't help. Whether it's digging, or weeding, or hoisting heavy brush to be cleared, I'm eager to do it. Physical labor warms my soul.
Two hours later I'm splattered with soil. Sweat sticks my thin cotton shirt to my body, and I've torn holes in the black yoga pants that I constantly wear. Annie is probably sick of seeing me in them. She updates my wardrobe every few months with new dresses or silky tops, as if to passive aggressively point out that I have options. If she wanted to remove all my active-wear clothes, she could. She hasn't yet.
I stab the shovel next to the trench. “Whew. Okay, I need to go shower.”
Wyatt chuckles dryly. “Got plans tonight?”
He's so close to the truth that my heart skips. I wonder if he sees the guilt in my eyes. Or the twinge of regret that comes when I think about never seeing him, or this tiny forest, again. “Hey,” I say, too thickly. I clear my throat. “Thanks for everything. It means the world to me that you share this place with my stupid face.”
His eyes soften. I wonder if it's possible to sense the gravity of my silent goodbye; I come so close to breaking and telling him everything. He blows air between his chapped lips. “Sharing this little gem with someone who appreciates it is my pleasure. Honestly.”
Unable to hold back, I grab him in a tight hug. Before he can respond I'm running out the gate, waving over my shoulder. It worries me that my mask almost broke. I can't be so reckless, emotions be damned.
As I'm jogging over the expanse of grass, heading towards the house, I see movement. There's a car in the winding driveway—cobalt blue, not a mark on its elegant surface. I don't know the model but it's expensive.
Curiosity guides me closer. I hop over the flat stones that border the yard, splitting the greenery from the front. The sun hits the car's windshield. Squinting hard, I slow down, only a bus length away now.
The angled door pops open. Hair the same shade as morning coffee comes first. It's styled close to his head, but still long enough that you could run your fingers through and tug. A chiseled jaw layered with a carefully shaved beard. Not wild, but deliciously rugged.
A thick neck and thicker shoulders are enhanced by the tight, rust-red shirt. It leaves most of his arms exposed. Muscles twitch, decorated here and there with tattoos. What strikes me most is how tall this guy is. I'm near enough to tell that I'd come up to just his collarbone with the top of my skull.
He slams the door and everything in me shudders, as if the sound jumped straight into my blood and never left. His head turns—I get his dagger-sharp profile—then his eyes fix on me. They're the color of a violin left alone in an attic and forgotten with cold black centers that pierce relentlessly.
I know this man.
But I don't know those eyes.
“Dominic?” The name whistles as it leaves my lips. It reaches him, his only reaction is how he rolls his gaze from my face, down to my toes, then back again. I'm fully dressed but I feel naked.
We stand across from each other. I think of the first time I saw him... that scrawny boy who kept insisting he was not a boy. Well. He sure isn't one now. His jeans grind together over his powerful legs as he takes two steps my way, but that's all. “Laiken.”
My tongue tingles when he speaks with a velvety, base-of-a-canyon tone. “Yeah, it's me. I—you look good.” Real good. What does he think about how I look? I've changed, too. Those bras I avoided are familiar to me now. My sharp limbs have softened in places, but my running around the estate has kept me fit.
Not like him, though. He looks like he wakes up every morning and does a thousand push-ups. Dominic is icy steel.
“It's good to see you,” I say, hoping to break this painful discomfort. We should be hugging—laughing! Why is he acting like he wants an excuse to leave?
His full lips smooth out. “It's been some time.”
“Yeah. It has.” I buzz with the fact we're having a conversation. I start to think this unease is only in my head. I'm acting weird, suspicious, and it's on me. “I'm... really happy to see you again.”
“You are?” he asks, like what I said is crazy.
“Of course I am,” I half-laugh. “Dominic, it's been six years! Why wouldn't I be happy to see you?”
He scrutinizes me. “You didn't hear the rumors.” It's a blunt statement.
“What rumors?”
His fingers smooth over his sleeve where it chokes his bicep. “Never mind,” he finally says. “I need to go. I'll see you around.”
“Okay,” I mumble. I want to grab his arm from behind and ask him everything that's happened in his life. Did he go straight from boarding school to college? Is he working for his father? Where has he been for so long?
I want to know. And I want him to ask about me, too.
His back is ruler-straight as he enters the mansion. What did he mean by rumors? I'm sure I'll never find out, because there won't be time to tell me. It makes my heart ache to realize this is it for us.
It seems our fate is stuck on repeat. Last time we met, he left so soon. Now he's returned, and I'll be the one leaving. It's cruel to do this to me all over again. It doesn't matter. Or it does, but I can't let it. Nothing is going to wreck the chance I've been holding my breath for. Not even my heart.
Tonight, I'm finally going home.
- Chapter 9 -
Dominic
I leave like it's easy. Like my blood isn't screaming at me to turn around and face her - talk to her. Grab her in my arms so she can feel a hint of the pressure on the fabric of my being that swallowed me the minute she said my name.
It's not easy.
But I do it.
Years of training at military school have given me discipline. That alone wouldn't be enough to resist the pull, though. It's the lead-heavy weight of my inner demons that gives me the power to turn my back on Laiken.
The farther I get, the easier it becomes. I'm through the elegantly fashioned metal and painted glass front doors of the mansion in twelve steps. Inside, a security guard in plain gray is talking with a maid wearing matching colors.
He glances at me, then back again, aghast. His walkie-talkie beeps, then crackles with a muffled warning that came too late. “Dominic Bradley is here!”
The guard turns his walkie off and faces me proudly. “Sir, I didn't know you were com
ing.”
Of course, my father didn't warn them. “Where's Silas?” I ask briskly. The maid is boggling at me. I don't recognize her. Six years can do a lot for staff turnover, especially with my mom's temperament.
“Your father?” the guy says stupidly.
The maid clears her throat. “Master Bradley is in his study, Sir.”
Not surprising. A number of awful memories creep on me. I crush them down, passing around the pair.
The guard steps aside, giving me a wide berth. “Welcome home, Sir,” he says, his words trembling on the corners. He's wondering why I'm back. The word will spread, then everyone will wonder.
Just like Laiken did. I make tight fists. Stop it. Focus.
The more time I dedicate in my head to her, the worse this is all going to be
for me... and for Laiken.
She didn't hear what happened. I'm still marveling at that. I was sure the whole house would be swelling with whispers about me. But then, Laiken was never the sort to gossip with the staff when we were young. She might have maintained her avoidance of the people working for my family this whole time.
It almost, almost gives me some hope. But I crush it down, because I know too well what hope is good for: creating a happy glow that leaves a darker shadow in its wake when it's snuffed out.
If Laiken is going to ultimately hate me, I won't indulge myself in her joy... in how her lips spread as she saw me standing in the driveway.
That smile was innocent.
And I'm certainly not.
- Chapter 10 -
Laiken
I make myself go through the motions of preparing for a normal visit. My damp, freshly showered hair is woven in a braid that reaches beyond my hips. I don't know Dad's plan, but I expect it'll involve needing to move fast, so I've put on soft gray tights under a loose, green empire waist top.
Sneakers are a given. I prefer them anyways. Annie has forced me into a few pairs of heels over the years for the occasional private event they host. She likes me looking “pretty” for Silas's friends and coworkers. I endured those parties. I'm delighted I won't have to anymore.
