by Gemma Weir
A cold shiver runs up my spine. Did my mom find out that I’m here?
“There’s someone at the front gate asking to speak with you.”
His voice sounds distant, like I’m underwater and the words are muffled.
“Mr. Miller.”
I snap back to the present and realize that he’s looking at me with concern etched on his face.
“Did you happen to find out the person’s name?” I ask, my voice sounding strange to my own ears, as the fear that my mom could be only a few hundred meters away hits me.
“She refused to give her name but asked that we tell you Princess is here to see you.”
“What?” I snap.
“Quite.” The house master says haughtily.
“What did she ask you to tell me?” I say quickly, needing him to repeat it in case my mind is playing tricks on me.
“She said to tell you, and I quote, ‘that Princess is here to see you’.”
I don’t speak again, I just take off running. I sprint through the dorm building and slam out of the exit door into the bright sunshine. My legs pump hard as I race across the lawn that separates the dorms from the library and cafeteria. I almost knock over several kids as I blindly run behind the buildings and across the lot, finally skidding to a halt when I reach the high imposing metal gates that mark the entrance to the school grounds.
A security guard watches me warily as I scan my school ID on the pad of the smaller pedestrian gate to the right-hand side and step through it. My chest is heaving, and I feel like I might be seeing things when I take in the girl sat on the hood of a shiny silver car, blocking the entrance to the school. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail on the top of her head and the shirt she’s wearing falls enticingly off her shoulder. Her long slender legs are tan, her feet propped on the fender, her eyes hidden behind large dark sunglasses.
“You look like a stuck-up rich boy dressed like that.”
The first words out of her mouth after not seeing or speaking to her for two months and she insults me. It’s fucking perfect. Closing the distance between us, I slide my butt onto the hood of her car sitting beside her.
“Hey, Princess.”
“You go to boarding school?”
“Yeah.”
“An hour from home?”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you living at a boarding school on your own when you could be home with me?” she asks, turning her head to face me and pushing the sunglasses off her face so I get the full impact of her hurt-filled eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“No, you’re not. If you were sorry you would have replied to one of my three hundred texts or called someone to let them know where you were and if you were okay.”
“I didn’t…”
“You didn’t what?” she snaps. “You didn’t think I would care, that Zeke or Griff or Emmy would care? You didn’t think that Auntie Brandi or Uncle Sleaze would care? That’s bullshit, Valentine, and we both know it.”
My eyes feel wide and I open my mouth to speak but no words form. I have nothing to say to defend myself, because she’s right, I knew they would care, and I still didn’t contact them.
“You’re an asshole. The only reason you texted me today is because I finally gave up on you growing a pair and stopped texting you.” She jumps off the hood of the car and paces in front of me. “I don’t even know why I’m here. You sent me that picture and I Googled the name of the academy and then I was in my car and pulling up outside these gates before I even really thought about what I was doing.”
“Princess,” I say, sliding off the hood and taking a step toward her.
“Do you know what the difference between you and I is? The moment I knew where you were I wanted to be with you. I got in my car and drove for an hour so that I could see you, see for myself that you were okay. But you. You disappear, then hide under our noses. You could have come and seen me, seen us at any point, but you didn’t. I get that you’ve been hurt and I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through in the last three years, but you had a home, you had a family, and you had me and you walked away from it all.”
“Princess,” I start.
“No.” She holds up her hands interrupting me. “I’m an idiot. I need to go. I should never have come.”
I watch, frozen, as she steps back, going around the car until she’s next to the driver’s door and pulling it open. “Goodbye, Valentine,” she says, as she slides inside, closes the door, and starts the engine.
The gravel crunches as she backs away from me, then the car turns and drives forward. My body kicks into gear a moment too late and by the time I sprint after her car, it’s too far ahead, accelerating down the road and away from me.
“Fuck,” I shout, when I finally grind to a stop, her car nothing more than taillights in the distance. She came. She drove all the way here to see me and I let her go. I’m a fucking idiot.
The whole encounter with her took less than three minutes, but I feel rocked to my core. I fucking love her. I love her, and I’ve wasted the last two months being a spineless idiot. Turning, I walk back to the entrance gates, stopping next to the security guards. “Where’s the closest place I can buy a car?”
“What kind of car?”
“Any kind of car that can get me home.”
The guys tell me about a couple of places, and I thank them and head back to my room. It takes me five minutes to change into my normal clothes, throw some stuff in a bag, and call a cab. By the time I reach the entrance gates again it’s waiting.
Apparently eighteen years old’s in ratty jeans don’t look like they’re capable of paying for a car, so it takes longer than I’d like to agree a sale on the beat up looking truck that called to me the moment I stepped foot onto the forecourt.
Eventually I have the keys, the registration documents and insurance and I’m driving down the freeway, the Satnav on my cell guiding me home, back to her. As much as I want to go straight to my Princess, there’s other people that I owe an apology to just as much as her and so I pull in a deep breath and park my truck outside Brandi and Sleaze’s house. It’s a weekend and I’m hoping they’ll both be home.
As I walk up the path to the front door, butterflies burst to life in my stomach. I’ve never knocked on their door before, but I don’t live here now, and I don’t even really know if they’ll want to see me, so it feels wrong to just let myself in.
I ring the doorbell and wait, shoving my hands into my pockets to stop myself from fidgeting. When the door opens, I look up apprehensively into Sleaze’s hard but filled-with-warmth eyes. His smile is slow, but it quickly spreads into a huge grin.
“Took you long enough,” he says, hauling me into a man hug that rattles my ribs.
He pulls back and cups one of my cheeks with his bear-like palm. “Welcome home, kid.”
I swallow thickly past the lump of emotion so big in my throat that it’s threatening to choke me. “Is that it?” I croak out.
“What else you looking for?”
Glancing from side to side I try to explain but can’t find the words.
“You thought we wouldn’t want you to come home just ‘cause you ran off in the middle of the night and only left a note?”
“Kind of. I err, I got access to my trust fund and I got emancipated.”
“Good for you, kid; now where’s your stuff?”
“What?” I ask, feeling like an even bigger idiot.
Sleaze’s gaze locks with mine and his brows furrow. “Okay, we’ll get to that in a bit, come on.”
Confused, I step past him and into the house. The familiarity of the place settles over me like a warm blanket and it eases some of the tension in my muscles.
“Brandi’s out back.”
I nod, walking through the kitchen and out into the back yard.
“Valentine,” Brandi calls the moment she spots me.
&
nbsp; “Hey,” I say sheepishly.
“Oh my god,” she cries, jumping up from her seat and racing toward me, her small body wrapping itself around me the moment she’s close enough. “Are you okay? We’ve been so worried.”
“I- I’m fine,” I manage to force out.
She releases me, then steps back, her eyes assessing me for what, I don’t know. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she says, pulling me in for another hug.
Surely it can’t be this simple? I up and left them with no explanation and both of them seem more than willing to welcome me back with open arms. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay?” Brandi asks, releasing me again and returning to her seat at the patio table.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I enrolled at a boarding school.”
“Constance Academy, we know,” Brandi says nonchalantly.
“Did Nova tell you?”
Brandi smiles sadly. “No, sweetie, we’ve known where you were for a while now.”
“How?” I ask shocked.
She laughs. “Sweetie, you don’t really know anything about the Sinners, but the club owns one of the best private security companies in the country. We knew the moment you got on that plane from New York.”
“Oh. So you know I got access to my trust fund and that I got emancipated?”
“Yeah, we know.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’m sorry, Brandi. I shouldn’t have just taken off like that, but that letter from my mom messed with my head.”
“It’s okay. I wish you’d just come to us; we would have come with you to New York. When I told you that we were family no matter what was inside that letter, I meant it. If you wanted to move out, we would have helped you find a place; if you wanted to get emancipated, we would have stood by you in court, because that’s what family does.”
Wiping a tear from my cheek with the back of my hand, I nod, because I did know that, I just didn’t believe it. “I’m sorry.” The words are nowhere near enough, but it’s a start.
“When did Nova find out where you were?”
“Today.”
“What happened?”
“She turned up at the gates, told me a few home truths, ripped me a new one, then left,” I admit.
Sleaze’s low rumbling chuckle starts first, then Brandi joins in. “I fucking love that girl,” Sleaze says.
“Me too,” I whisper.
The three of us fall silent after my admission, then Brandi clears her throat. “So how’s the new school?”
“Stuck up and lonely.”
“You about ready to stop pretending you’re alone in the world and come home?” She asks, her eyes intense and probing.
“I,” I start to say, then falter, clearing my throat and finally getting the words out. “I’m emancipated, Brandi.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not a foster kid anymore.”
“So?”
“So the state won’t pay you for looking after me.”
“Valentine, you stupid, stupid boy. We don’t need the money. Hell, we barely use it. We put all the money we get from the state into college funds for the kids that are with us long term. Emmy’s mom was a self-made millionaire before she was twenty-five; she took over running our investments and now we all have enough money to live comfortably and never have to work another day in our lives.”
My mouth falls open. None of these people look like they have money; they don’t live in ostentatious houses or drive extravagant cars.
“Valentine, we can’t have children of our own, so we made the decision a long time ago that we would try to help kids who didn’t have families. It’s never been about the money. The moment your emo ass walked through the front door, this became your home, and it will be your home for as long as you want it to be. We don’t care how much money you have or that you’re rich enough to buy yourself an island to live on. We just want you to come home, because you are part of this family whether you know it or not.”
I stare at her, trying to process her words. They want me here. This is my home. They are my family. The concept is so unfamiliar to me. Three years of being completely alone—of only ever putting my trust into one other person, who in the end was using me—has left me so much more jaded than I even realized.
Brandi’s small hand covers mine and she looks up at me softly. “You don’t have to believe it all today. You don’t have to move back in if you don’t want to. Hell, if all you do is call home every once in a while to let us know you’re okay, then that’s fine.”
“I,” I choke back the emotion that’s threatening to consume me. “I’d really like to come home, if that’s okay…?”
Tears spill freely down Brandi’s cheeks as she nods. “Yes, yes, do you have all your stuff?”
“No, I threw some stuff in a bag, but the rest is back at school.”
She nods. “Okay, we can go fetch it all tomorrow.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Did you steal that truck that’s outside?” she asks.
I laugh. “No, I bought it.”
“Okay, good.” She says, then smiles brightly. “Oh, and Valentine, if you ever disappear in the middle of the night again, I will hunt your ass down and you will be grounded until you graduate college.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I’m an idiot; a stupid fucking idiot. When that photo came through, I was in my car and driving to that fancy school before I could even think about it. For some reason I thought we’d have some movie worthy reunion moment before walking off into the sunset hand in hand.
Like I said, I’m an idiot.
Pulling my car into the driveway, I kill the engine and climb out, muttering to myself about my idiot status as I slam the door closed and stomp up to the house. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Pulling open the refrigerator, I spot the longneck bottles of beer and grab for one, slamming the door shut and twisting off the top of the beer.
As I lift the bottle to my lips it’s snatched out of my hands. “Nova May Stubbs, want to explain why you just helped yourself to a beer? Last time I checked you were still a minor,” Mom splutters, her eyes crinkling at the sides with anger.
“I went to see Valentine.”
She silently hands me the bottle back, then grabs one for herself. “You’ve only been gone a couple of hours.”
I scoff bitterly. “He’s in Houston.”
“What?”
“Yep, in a fancy boarding school.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Me either,” I cry, throwing my hands into the air. “I’ve been sat here for the last two months missing him, worrying about him, and he’s been less than an hour away not giving a crap.”
Mom sighs. “That kid.”
“I’m an idiot, Mom. I thought I was falling for him. I was falling for him, then he left and now,” I throw my arms into the air, then cover my eyes with my hands, unwilling to admit that after seeing him for all of two minutes I know I’m not falling anymore. I fell and landed straight slap bang in the middle of love. I love him, the stupid idiot.
“What did he say to you?”
I laugh and the sound is bitter and sad. “He told me he was sorry and then I kind of blew up at him, then left.”
“Boys are so stupid.”
“Agreed,” I say, lifting my beer bottle and tapping it against hers. “What did Daddy do when he chased you back to England?”
A small smile tips at the corner of her lips and I cringe. “Eww, Mom, I don’t want to know about him sexing you up.”
She laughs. “It wasn’t just sex. I mean there was that as well, but he told me off and then said he loved me and that I was stupid, I think.”
“I called Valentine an asshole.”
“Good, that kid is an asshole.”
“I think I love him though,” I admit, my bottom lip trembling.
“Oh, sweetie,” she cries, pulling me to her and holding me tightly. “Want your dad to go kick his ass?”
A giggle bursts throu
gh my tears and I shake my head. “No, maybe later though.”
Mom and I drink our beers and then she makes my favorite for dinner. I’m sad, but I won’t let him destroy me. I’ve survived the last few months with him gone, and I’ll survive now. Then maybe in a few months I’ll go back to his fancy ass school and kick him in the balls before I forget about him entirely.
Zeke, the twins, and I head to the basement to watch a movie after dinner. There’s a party we could go to, but honestly, I’m not really in the mood. By the time the movie’s finished, I’m tired, but I already know sleep isn’t on the cards for me tonight. My insomnia hasn’t been too bad since I started addressing my anxiety, but at times my mind still swirls loudly enough to stop me from sleeping.
Pushing the door open, I feel him in my room before I see him, lazing on my bed just the way he had the first time he invaded my room.
“Hello, Princess.”
“What are you doing here, Valentine?” I ask, trying to hide the longing in my voice with annoyance.
“Waiting for you.”
“Why?” The single word comes out like a pained cry and he sits up, his body leaning toward me before he stops himself.
“Nova.” His voice is pleading, but I cross my arms across my chest and try to bolster my resolve not to go to him.
“What do you want? Haven’t you done enough?”
He sighs and nods. “I came to tell you a story. Once I’m done, I’ll go, and if you never want to speak to me again, I’ll try really hard to respect that.”
“Fine, tell me.”
He pats the bed. “Come sit down. I promise I won’t touch you.”
I force myself not to launch myself at him. I slowly walk to my bed and sit down on the edge.
Valentine scrubs at his face with his hand, then lifts his head and locks his gaze with mine. “Once upon a time there was a kid who had a mom and a dad and everything he ever wanted. He was happy and he thought he would always feel that way.”
I swallow down my raspy inhale of breath, not wanting him to stop talking.
“One day the kid’s dad went out and never came back and the kid had no idea how he would ever survive the pain. He wanted his mom to make it better, to tell him it was all going to be okay, but she was hurting even more than he was and she didn’t have anything left to give him so she shut herself away and stopped talking to the kid.”
