“Tell me everything. Your phone calls don’t give me enough gossip,” she says, heading straight for the kitchen and the coffee machine.
Good God, I’ve missed proper coffee.
“There really isn’t anything to tell.”
Other than my brother’s friend tried to kiss my face off last week and is now avoiding me…
I keep this to myself, however. I’m not ready to divulge this with anyone yet, even her.
“Seriously?” She flicks her auburn braid over her shoulder and fixes me with a sceptical glare. “You’ve been with the biker cult for five weeks and you have nothing to tell?”
“They’re not a cult.” I wrinkle my nose at her, watching as she fills the coffee pot.
“Have you been acclimatised then? You’re one of them now?” she jokes.
“No, but they’re not bad people, Cam. They’re just like you and me. Well, more like you really.”
Her lips tip up. “Oh, it’s been a while since I got into trouble. Maybe I should come and visit.”
“I don’t think Kingsley is ready for your brand of mayhem,” I mutter, leaning my hip against the counter.
I’m not entirely lying either. Cami takes rebellion to a whole other level. She’s been practising for years. At first, it was to annoy her father. Now, I’m not sure why she’s doing it.
“Things with you and your brother are going well?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think so. He’s struggling with how to fit me into his life still, but we’re both struggling with that.”
She studies me and I feel like she’s pulling all my secrets out of my head. “You don’t need his approval, P.”
“Good thing I’m not looking for it.”
She gives me a sceptical glare. “Darling, you may be able to fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me.”
No, I’ve never been able to fool Cami.
“I don’t know why I care,” I admit finally.
“Because he’s your big brother.”
“That shouldn’t matter after what he did.”
“You’ve always had a big heart.” She hands me a mug of freshly brewed coffee.
I take it, holding it under my nose and sniffing it. It smells divine. “I missed percolated coffee.”
“You’re going back, I take it. After you’ve seen Mumzilla.”
I wince. “Yeah, I’m going back. Josh is still unwell. He’s got an infection—”
“And about a dozen people who can take care of him,” she interrupts.
This is true, but…
“I’m his sister, and I’m the only one he’s got.”
“You were also his sister when he walked away from you, Piper.”
She’s not telling me anything I don’t know. “People deserve a second chance. He’s trying, really trying, to make things right. Curtis—our father—he screwed him up, Cam. Josh doesn’t know how to let people in. I have to take that into account.”
“That didn’t give him carte blanche to treat you like shit.”
“He’s trying,” I say quietly, clutching the mug like a security blanket. “And I want to try, too. We were both dealt a shitty hand in life. His worse than mine. That doesn’t get him carte blanche, no, but it does get him a do over. I need him, probably more than he needs me. I only have you in my life, and you’re amazing. You have got me through so many things that I would never have survived otherwise, but—”
“But he’s your brother,” she cuts me off with a sigh. “I get it, darling, I do. He’s family. I just might have to kill him if he hurts you again.”
If he finds out about my less than platonic feelings for Jem, she may not have to worry. Josh may not be a problem in my life, period.
“Is it a big deal about siblings dating sibling’s friends?” I ask.
She arches a brow. “Do you have a confession to make?”
“No. Just one of the girls in the Club is dating her brother’s best friend. It came out and things got a little messy,” I lie. “I thought it was a bit ridiculous.”
Cami tugs on the end of her braid, her other hand clutching her own coffee mug. “Personally, I couldn’t care less, but these men sound a little bit on the traditional side.”
“They are.”
“Sisters are probably off limits, meaning the best friend committed a grievous faux-pas going there. Was there a punch up?”
I wouldn’t have thought of Josh as being particularly traditional, but he has quite traditional views on taking care of the women in his life. Actually, all the men in the Club do. They look after the girls surprisingly well.
“Piper!”
“Hmm?”
“You said it got messy.”
Caught in my lie, I shrug, “Oh, it didn’t get that far.”
“That’s too bad. I’ll just have to imagine hot leather-clad bikers wrestling each other instead.”
I frown at her. “You need to get laid.”
“I have been. I’m back with Spense.”
Spense being Spencer, her on-again, off-again boyfriend who seems to be more of a friend with long-term benefits.
“I can see that ending well.”
She shrugs. “For now, it suits us both. Whether it will in a week or two is another matter. Anyway, don’t you have an appointment with your mother?”
I shake my wrist to turn my watch and groan. “Yes. I better leave if I’m going to make it to the house on time. She’ll throw a wobbler if I’m late.”
Once I’ve finished my coffee—because I’m not that much of a heathen that I can leave a full mug of the stuff—I borrow Cami’s car and take the twenty-minute drive out of Manchester city centre, north. I can drive, but I don’t have my own vehicle. There’s little need living in the centre of town and Cami lets me use her car whenever I need to, since she rarely drives it herself either.
My parents have a large detached property in a small village near to the canal. Ironically, it’s part of the same canal system that runs through the city centre and behind my apartment.
It’s a lot more rural out here, though. Where my home is surrounded by industry and urban sprawl, theirs sits among fields and farmsteads. It’s a quieter pace of life, and one fitting to a local councillor and his wife.
I pull the car up outside the double garage and cut the engine, staring up at the house that is ostentatious in its size and appearance. Considering there are only the two of them living here, they really do not need a five-bedroom property, but what do I know?
With a sigh, I snag my bag off the passenger seat and climb out. I don’t bother to knock on the front door, instead heading for the conservatory, which overlooks the garden and has views over the fields beyond. It’s a beautiful location, but it would drive me crazy being this far away from everything.
When I step inside the house, it’s quiet. My boots are loud on the tiled floor, even though they barely make a sound. I glance around the perfectly laid out furnishings. Everything has its place. It’s like a show home, rather than a lived in house. I hated growing up here. I was never allowed to breathe, to be a kid. No toys out, no mess. It sounds ridiculous to complain about, but I was constantly on edge, worrying about every little speck of dust. As an adult, I can’t stand disorder myself. It makes me twitchy. Everything has to be just right. I know that’s my mother’s doing, a side effect of her neurosis. I should have rebelled, gone the other way and become a total slob, but mess terrifies me. Cami has dampened down some of my worst fears on that front. I’m not as bad as I once was, but it’s still there, that need to keep order. It came back in full force when I first moved into Josh’s place. It took me a week to get it organised enough to settle.
“Mum?” I call out, wondering where on earth she is.
Usually, she’d be in the conservatory or the little snug room off it. She’s not in either.
I get no response, so I move further into the house, finding myself in their huge kitchen. Still no sign of Mum—or Grant for that matter, but that’s less unusual si
nce my stepfather is a workaholic and rarely here. I’m about to call her name again when I hear raised voices coming from the main living room. I’m about to make myself known, but something stops me. I pause in the kitchen doorway as a voice says, “…that naïve, are you, Farrah?”
It’s the venom in my stepfather’s voice that makes me take notice. I’ve never heard him speak to her like that before and honestly, it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I don’t know what else to suggest,” she bites back, but I notice there isn’t the usual heat in her words I would expect if anyone else spoke to her in that manner.
I want her to lay into him, to give him a dressing down. I have a difficult relationship with both my mother and stepfather, but I do love them both. Hearing Grant disrespect my mother this way doesn’t sit well with me.
“Well, of course you don’t,” he says with derision in his voice. “Why would you? This isn’t a bloody bake sale. You can’t knit it better or make a flower arrangement. We’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.”
I’ve never heard my stepfather swear before. He’s usually Mr Pristine, so his language shocks me, but not nearly as much as my mother.
“Grant! Honestly, there’s no need for such vulgarity.”
“If this little twerp manages to carry out his threats, then I’m fucked.”
“Well, if you hadn’t felt the need to push him in the first place, it wouldn’t be an issue, would it?”
There’s a moment of loaded silence. What on earth has Grant been up to? My cleaner than clean stepfather wouldn’t know trouble if it hit him around the head. He’s the councillor who managed to reduce homelessness in Manchester by ten percent over the last five years since he’s been in office, he’s the councillor who improved education outcomes for disadvantaged children in the foster care system, he’s the councillor who opened fifty-seven more care beds for the elderly. He even funds the learning support centre I work at.
“Everything I’ve done has been to keep you and Piper in the lifestyle you have now.”
I blink. I never asked for any of this. I never wanted it either.
“This is insanity, going up against someone like him and his organisation!” Mum hisses. “Then again, you’ve always believed you were cleverer than you are, but you’re just a silly, little man trying to play with the big boys—”
Crack.
I hear the smash of flesh meeting flesh. I move before I realise I’m doing it, and I’m in the room. I take the scene in with a flick of my eyes and my blood boils. They’re both standing near the sofas. Grant’s holding Mum’s arm, as if he’s grabbed her and her head is down. I can’t see her face, but it’s clear they’re in the middle of an altercation by the tenseness of their stance.
“Let go of her,” I grind out, bringing both their gazes to me.
When Mum’s head comes up, I see the red mark on her cheek.
A handprint.
I grind my teeth together, and cross the room, putting myself between them. Grant is taller than me, although not by much. He’s much bigger than my mother, though, who is closer to Cami’s height.
“Take your hand off her, Grant. Now.”
For the first time ever, I see a flicker in the veneer my stepfather puts on, a veneer I didn’t even realise he put on. It’s there, though, and I glimpse the darkness beneath for a split second. The urge to step back is overwhelming and if I wasn’t protecting my mother, I would.
He releases her and moves back, running a hand over his dark, salted hair. He’s wearing his suit still, along with a tie and a shirt. He’s every inch the gentleman, and the complete opposite to the denim and leather-wearing bikers I’ve been surrounded by for weeks, but I’ve never worried one of those men, as big as they are, as brawn as they are, would raise a hand to me or any of the women around them. I thought suits and money bought class and status. I was wrong.
I glare at him. “You ever touch her again and I’ll ruin you and your fucking career,” I growl at him.
Again, the veneer slips, and this time I don’t glimpse the monster, I get a full eye of it. He jolts towards me and snags my arm.
“You want to threaten me?”
The shock of being grabbed renders me almost paralysed. Violence may have been something my brother lived with growing up; I’m considering if it’s something my mother has also dealt with, but it’s not something that has been in my world.
Emotionally, I’ve been abused, yes, but physically, never. So, Grant putting his hands on me shakes me to my core, and his touch isn’t gentle. His hold is bruising and the clamping of his jaw is so tight I feel real fear.
“Grant, let her go,” Mum pleads in the background. Her words fall on deaf ears.
I don’t back down, although I should.
“If you raise a hand to my mother again, I’ll do more than threaten you, I’ll end you,” I somehow manage to grind out the words, even though my fear levels are through the roof.
He snarls at me and releases me with a shove. Mum catches me, and I watch as Grant storms from the room. When I hear the front door slam shut, I turn to her, adrenaline flooding my body and leaving me trembling slightly.
“Are you all right?”
I watch as her face pulls into a mask of indifference. “You shouldn’t speak to him like that.”
What the hell?
She pats at her hair, making sure it’s still in place, still perfectly coiffed, the chignon tidy. I stare at her in disbelief, waiting for the joke to end. It doesn’t. She’s serious.
“Are you insane? He just hit you.”
Mum’s throat works before she manages to regain control. She’s not as unaffected by what just happened as she wants me to believe. “Grant’s a very passionate man.”
She moves over to the sofa, straightening up the cushions unnecessarily. I watch her, mesmerised by her behaviour.
“Passionate? Is that what we’re calling domestic abuse now?”
Mum rounds on me, anger lining her face. “Don’t you dare say that to me. I’m not some helpless victim and your stepfather isn’t a violent man. He’s a good person.”
I splutter. “Good men don’t hit their wives.”
“You’re naïve to the ways of the real world, Piper. You’ve never seen hardship. Grant is facing a lot of stress—stress that you’re making all the more difficult, by the way.” She sinks onto the sofa. Her elbow rests on the arm of the chair, while her fingers massage her forehead.
No doubt she has a migraine brewing after that sideshow. I have one myself.
I try not to focus on the increasingly growing red mark on her cheek.
“How am I making things more difficult? I haven’t even seen either of you in weeks.”
I don’t sit. I can’t bring myself to. My body is wired for action, fight mode still activated.
“You didn’t reply to Grant’s message about the engagements he needs you to attend. It’s just another stress on top of everything else he’s dealing with. You know how he gets during election term.”
“I couldn’t care less if he was running for Prime Minister. It doesn’t give him the right to hurt you, Mum. Look, if you’re scared of leaving him, I’ll help you. You can come and stay with me in the loft.”
She scoffs at me. “I’m not scared of the man, and I’m not leaving him either. Good lord, what would people say?”
I stare at her. She’s either completely insane or in total denial. “I really don’t think what people say matters.”
“Of course it matters. Grant will lose the election if this gets out.”
“Rightly so, Mum.”
Her eyes go to the ceiling. “Oh, you really are a silly girl, aren’t you? How would that benefit anyone?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Mum, he hit you.”
“Yes, he hit me, not you, and I’m fine, so can we please just drop it?”
It’s like I’ve stepped into an alternative dimension. How is she okay about this? My
arm, where he grabbed me, is already starting to hurt, so her face must be on fire.
But this is the story of the Hollanders right here. We can’t possibly let the world see the truth of what goes on behind closed doors. Everything must seem perfect, even when it’s not. My whole life has been a nonstop production. I went to the right schools, had the right friends, did the right activities. Everything is a carefully choreographed dance. We’re marionettes on a stage, and Grant controls us all.
I got out, in a way. Cami helped me to escape, but I still have to get back on that stage and let them pull the strings now and again. It’s galling. I’m tired of being in their sideshow.
“It’s all about keeping up appearances, right? That’s all that matters.”
She shoots me a look, and for a moment I see a flash of something beneath the hardness—hurt, maybe. She’s not as unaffected by this as she’s making out. Maybe I need to tread more cautiously.
“If you’d just responded to Grant’s messages,” she fluffs her hair again, trying to regain her composure, “none of this would have happened.” I gawk at her. Is she really blaming me for his actions? “He isn’t good under stress, and needs to know, darling, so he can organise what he’s doing PR wise.”
I was busy nursing my brother back to health and falling for a biker—both secrets I will take to the grave. If Mum got a slap for… whatever that was… I can only imagine what I’ll get if they find out what I’ve been up to.
When they discovered I’d been seeing Josh the first time, that had caused a hurricane force argument, one that had taken a long time to recover from. “What were you even fighting about?”
“Anyway, none of that matters now. Just ensure, in future, you let him know these things. It’s polite to respond, darling.”
I couldn’t care less about being polite right now. I want to kill Grant.
“Mum, is Grant in trouble?”
Forbidden Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5 Page 16
