by L A Cotton
I was the complication.
But that wasn’t good enough for me. I didn’t want to be someone’s problem or hurdle… or temptation. I wanted to be someone’s reason.
I wanted to be Blake’s reason.
Foolishly, I thought we were getting a second chance, but now, all I saw was a million reasons why our story would never be rewritten.
Age 16
I hated this fucking place.
And I hated Anthony Weston.
He had ruined everything.
Everything.
Ripped me from the only person I cared about. The one person who needed me.
My other half.
At first, when Derek and Marie had requested I join them in the living room—their room—I thought they were going to give me more shit. Any little excuse to hound me, and they were on me like flies on shit. But when the man in the expensive suit walked in, I knew something was up.
I didn’t expect to find out he was my uncle on Mom’s side. Anthony Weston of West Lake and Associates, one of the biggest law firms in all of Columbus. He’d tracked us down—well, tracked Mom down only to discover she was six feet under thanks to my drug-dealing father who was now locked up in prison.
Derek and Marie sat with their smug grins as Anthony explained he had come to take me away. I would have been lying if I said escaping the Freeman’s wasn’t a tempting offer, but if Penny wasn’t going, then neither was I. It had taken Anthony and Derek both to manhandle me out of the house and into the Town Car waiting at the side of the house. Now, I was prisoner in their damn near mansion on the outskirts of Upper Arlington.
“Blake. Please come down for dinner,” Aunt Miranda called easing some of the storm in me. I’d tried to hate her—wanted to—but it was impossible when the woman looked at me with such understanding and patience.
I pushed off my bed and made my way downstairs. When I’d arrived at the house, a little over two weeks ago, they’d shown me to a bedroom furnished for your average sixteen-year-old. Neutral walls with blue painted stripes running across the wall that had a king-size bed pushed up against it covered with a dark blue comforter, and dark furniture complete with a flat-screen television and gaming system, a laptop, and docking station. We didn’t even have a flat screen in the den at the Freeman’s; we had one of those consoles that took up a whole corner of the room.
None of it mattered.
I wanted Penny and No Man’s Land and stolen moments of freedom; I didn’t want the Weston’s money and gadgets. Or to be forty miles away from Lancaster.
I wanted to know Penny was okay.
Voices traveled through the vast hallway. “He’ll adjust. Give him time.” My aunt’s voice was soft, a stark contrast to the commanding tone of my uncle’s voice.
“Time? He should be thankful we saved him from that place. He will never want for anything again, and he can’t even join us for dinner on time? It’s unacceptable, Miranda,” my uncle said with little emotion.
“Ant, please, give him time. You’ll see.”
I strolled into the kitchen as if I hadn’t just heard them discussing me and said, “Did you contact the Freemans yet to see if Penny wrote me back? She should have gotten the letter by now, right?”
My aunt and uncle shared a look, and my heart constricted.
“Blake.” My uncle was using his ‘official business’ tone as if I was one of his fucking cases. “I have already explained that it isn’t that simple. We can’t just call them up and-”
“Why? Why can’t you just call them up and ask? You just turned up and took me away.”
Uncle Anthony pushed away from the table, his chair scraping across the floor tiles, and stood abruptly. “Son, you need to listen and listen good. Forget the girl. Forget that house. I pulled a lot of strings to get you out of there. I’m sorry you had to leave your friend, but you need to let her go. It’s for the best.”
Friend?
Didn’t he know Penny was more than just my friend?
That she was my everything?
Anger and frustration swirled together in my stomach, and I exploded. I grabbed the back of one of the chairs and picked it up and threw it at the wall. It didn’t smash, but it did splinter. A shred of guilt shot through me when Aunt Miranda clasped her hand over her mouth and gasped. Uncle Anthony’s eyes burned into me, but I didn’t hang around long enough to feel his wrath.
I was out of there.
I didn’t get very far.
Until two weeks ago, I had never even set foot in Upper Arlington. So I took a bag of chips from the overstocked cupboards and went to the perimeter of the grounds. The kitchen door walked out onto a beautiful decked area that led to a huge pool. Past the pool was a vast lawn area, which backed to Canterbury Woods. If I wasn’t here under duress, I would have appreciated just how awesome it was. The yard seemed never ending, but I finally arrived at the fence. I dropped down to my knees and scooted onto my butt. It was still early, not even six. Darkness wouldn’t fall for another hour or so. I didn’t care, though. I just needed to feel close to her.
I lay there on the springy grass, staring up at the clouds with my fingers outstretched at my side, imagining Penny next to me. We’d talk about our day, and our dreams for the future. She’d lean over to kiss me and I would yank her down on top of me and take more.
Always more.
Never enough.
Pain sliced through my chest. We were going to give ourselves to one another. Once she turned seventeen, I was going to make Penny mine in every way possible. She was going to be my first.
My only.
It was as if Derek had known what we were planning to do and orchestrated the whole thing just to get back at me. The smug look on his face as Anthony announced I was leaving the Freeman home five weeks before Penny turned seventeen. I promised her the world and now she was all alone in that hell. And I had no fucking idea if she knew the real reason I had left. I had begged for a chance to explain things to Penny, to visit her, or at least, call her. But of course, Uncle Anthony wouldn’t hear of it. So I did the only thing I could. I wrote her a letter.
One page of scrawl that promised her we would find our way back to each other. That one way or another, we would be together. Uncle Anthony promised me that he would make sure it arrived at the Freeman’s; he was probably sending Max, his driver. I still couldn’t get my head around the fact that growing up with Mom, we couldn’t afford groceries, and he had someone to drive him. But as long as the letter got there, I didn’t care who delivered it.
Anthony had to pull a lot of strings to get guardianship of me and wasn’t prepared to have me jeopardize his sacrifices. His sacrifices. I scoffed into the air. I didn’t know why he’d bothered—the man despised me. He had shown me nothing but contempt since taking me out of the group home. I’d only been here two weeks, and it was already as if I owed him the world. I didn’t ask him to come and get me; I didn’t want to be here.
Couldn’t he see that?
I wanted to be with Penny. With Mason and Peter, even Ben. They were my friends, my family. Not the emotionally devoid robot back in the house. I didn’t know him. He certainly didn’t know anything about me, about what I’d survived. Where was he when Mom was strung out on her latest cocktail of drugs while Dad was out on the streets of Lancaster pushing that shit to kids looking to get a quick high?
Penny, tell me what to do?
What do I do?
A pained cry burst from my lungs. I closed my eyes and fought back the tears building. I couldn’t cry. Men didn’t cry, and I was a man now. Something told me that in my uncle’s world, I would need to grow the hell up. He hadn’t saved me from hell; he’d just replaced my prison.
“Disrespect mealtime again and you can eat in your room like an animal.” My uncle dropped his knife and fork onto his plate, rose from the table, and started for the door. He paused and turned back to me. “You register at Wellington in two weeks. I suggest you adjust your attitude before then.”<
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With that bombshell, he left.
Wellington? The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down. Aunt Miranda sighed deeply. “He’ll come around.”
“Will he?” My plate of untouched food remained on the table. I sat down and picked at the salad.
“I can reheat the chicken?” Miranda offered.
“No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have left.” Why was I making it sound like an apology?
Miranda smiled and sat down opposite me. “You know, Blake, we really are happy to have you with us. When Ant found out that Imogen was, well, that she was gone, his heart was broken. He loved her more than anything, but then we discovered she had a son, you, and Ant was hell-bent on finding you. We could never have children, you see…” Her eyes glazed over with sadness. “Ant wanted to know his only nephew. News that you were in a foster home was the decider. He pulled every string he could to bring you home to us. Family. We’re your family now, Blake. Please give him a chance.” She reached across the table and laid her hand over mine. The feeling felt foreign, but a lump formed in my throat.
It had been so long since I’d had to look out for myself. And Aunt Miranda seemed nice. As if she actually gave a shit about me.
“Wellington?” I asked needing to fill the awkward silence. Aunt Miranda nodded and said, “Yes, it’s the private school in Upper Arlington. Ant is good friends with the head. He pulled some strings.”
I grit my teeth hard. Of course, he did.
Private school?
Things just got a hell of a lot worse.
Fourteen long days later, I found myself trapped in Miranda’s Porsche as she drove me to Wellington. There was a school bus, but she wanted to see that I arrived safely. Although I figured it was probably just Anthony’s way of making sure I didn’t skip class. I stared out of the window tugging at the navy blue polo shirt Miranda had given me. It seemed all a little too convenient that they had a stash of uniforms waiting for me. It was the same with the fully decorated and equipped bedroom. I hadn’t asked much about when or how they found out I was in Lancaster, but something told me it involved Uncle Anthony pulling a lot more than just strings.
“See the salmon colored building up ahead? That’s Wellington. Alumni of eighty-eight. I have fond memories of this place,” Miranda cooed as she turned off the main road and onto the private road. As we approached the main building, I noticed a playground off to one side.
“They have all grades here?”
Miranda rolled her Porsche to a halt and cut the engine. She turned to me. “Sorry, we’re not doing a very good job of this so far, are we? Yes, it’s a co-ed pre-school through grade twelve school. Small classes, excellent extracurricular program. I think you’ll really like it here.”
I nodded. What else could I do when the woman sitting opposite me was giving me such a hopeful look?
“You have an appointment with the head of the high school, Mr. Spellman. I’m sure he’ll get you settled. I’ll pick you up today and then maybe tomorrow you can try the bus or Max could drive you? I’m sure your uncle wouldn’t mind.”
Yeah, right. I nodded again and reached for the door handle. As I climbed out of the car and hitched my bag up my shoulders, I drew in a deep breath.
One year. You only have to survive one year of this shit.
For you.
For Penny.
“Thanks for the ride,” I called back to Miranda as she watched me walk up to the glass doors. She waved, and I headed inside.
The silver Porsche disappeared out of sight. It shouldn’t have bothered me; new situations were something you got used to growing up in foster care, but something about this place had me on edge.
I wasn’t private school material.
In tenth grade, I spent more time goofing around and getting into fights than I did studying. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work, I just preferred not to. Penny was always yanking my chain about my study habits. I doubted a school like this would appreciate a kid like me bringing down their reputation.
Penny. A whole month away from her, and she still consumed my thoughts.
“Hello, can I help you?” An older lady with silver hair and thick rimmed glasses smiled up at me from her desk behind the counter.
“I’m the new kid. Blake Weston.”
She glanced me up and down, and her smile grew wider. “We’re pleased to have you, Blake. Welcome to Wellington. I’m Mrs. Freids, but you can call me Dorothy.”
Okay then. My lips drew into a tight line, curling up at one side. She seemed genuine, but I hardly looked the part. My polo shirt was already creased and I’d opted not to wear the shoes Miranda had left out for me. I preferred my worn in chucks.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you down to Mr. Spellman’s office. He’s expecting you.”
We walked in silence down a long hallway before she stopped outside a door. There were two seats to the left and I smiled inwardly. At Lancaster High, I was well acquainted with the principal’s office.
Dorothy knocked, waited a couple of seconds, and then opened the door. “Good luck,” she whispered before ushering me inside. The door clicked shut behind me. My eyes took in the room. It was light and airy with a huge glass window overlooking a playing field. It looked like the football team was running drills.
“Welcome to Wellington, Mr. Weston. Please, have a seat,” said the man seated behind a huge desk positioned in front of the window. “I’m Dr. Spellman.”
“Doctor?” The word just tumbled out, and I silently cursed. Taking a seat opposite him, I dropped my bag and sat rigid.
A slight smile broke over his face causing his eyes to wrinkle around the corners. “Doctor of Education.”
I tipped my chin and waited. Spellman leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and clasped his hands while he regarded me. “I’m good friends with your uncle. I feel confident your time here at Wellington will be smooth and enriching. I have taken a quick look at your files from Lancaster, and I think you have a lot of potential, son. We just need to…” His lips curved into a slight smile. “Focus your energies.”
“I just want to graduate high school… sir.”
“Of course, Blake. I understand this must be a difficult transition for you, so how about we give it some time. Let you settle and find your feet here at Wellington.”
“Okay.” What else was there to say? It wasn’t as if I had much choice in the matter. Until I turned eighteen, my life belonged to Anthony and Miranda. He had made that perfectly clear.
“I’ve arranged for a student to help you settle. Brittany.”
I turned around, following Spellman’s line of sight. A girl in a Wellington uniform sat in the corner of the room. She smiled at me, and I gave her a slight nod. I didn’t need—or want—a babysitter. Especially, not queen bee over there.
“Hi, I’m Brittany Arnold. Our families are good friends.”
I bristled. I might have shared the same name as Anthony and Miranda, but they were not my family. The only family I had was back in Lancaster.
“Blake,” I replied curtly.
She smiled again and smoothed her long blond hair over her shoulder. She was one of those girls; the mean girls who thought they were above everyone else. Just like the girls at Lancaster High who made Penny’s life hell. It oozed from her fake smile.
“I can show you to second period?”
“Blake, I trust you’ll be okay in Miss Arnold’s hands?”
Penny’s face flashed in my mind, and I wanted to close my eyes and lose myself in her chocolate eyes. But I couldn’t. Spellman was burning holes into my head, and Brittany was looking at me as if she wanted to do more than just show me to second period.
Fuck.
I stayed off work all week. Every time Mary called, I lied and said I was still attending to the ‘family emergency.’ I hated to lie, and guilt weighed heavy on my mind, but the alternative was worse. Part of me wanted to quit. I’d even written out my resignation
letter, but something was holding me back. My heart was ready to walk away, to shut itself off and live a life of meaningless solitude again, but this time, my head refused to accept it had to be that way.
When Friday rolled around again, I knew it was crunch time. I wasn't being fair to Mary, and I needed to know if I was going to be looking for work again.
And I needed air.
I’d avoided leaving the apartment for fear of someone from Touch of Class noticing me. Like now, as I hurried along the sidewalk en route back to The Oriental Garden from the store. I’d finally run out of lavender scented candles and air fresheners and feared the smell of fried egg rolls was going to suffocate me.
In the short time from leaving my apartment to exiting the store, dusk had settled over Clintonville. I pulled my jacket tighter as I turned off the high street into the alley separating The Oriental Garden and Bernie’s Bar. It was only just after six, but it was a Friday night and college students didn’t need an excuse to start their weekend early. Usually, the crowds of students spilled out onto the street smoking and drinking paid me little attention, but it didn’t stop me from holding my breath every time.
A couple of guys wolf whistled at me as I moved past them, but it deflected off me as my pace quickened. Focused only on reaching the stairwell to my apartment, I rounded the last corner and walked straight into somebody.
“Shit,” a startled voice said.
“Marissa?” I asked, stepping back and blinking to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me.
“The one and only,” she smirked rubbing a hand where our heads had bumped. Without thinking, I launched myself at her wrapping my arms around her slender figure. She laughed and hugged me back. I didn’t flinch or step out of her grasp—I embraced the feeling. Until now, I hadn’t realized just how much I missed her. Marissa had played as much of a role in my summer—my healing—as Blake had.
