by Mia Belle
I nod, my throat tight.
“I know you were looking forward to starting your own baking business, but you understand why we said no.”
“Yeah. I just wish things can go back to how they used to be.”
“I know.” He squeezes me tightly. “You’re like a son to me, do you know that?”
I pull away. “I’m going to end up like him.”
“Caleb…”
“I love magic. I mean, I used to. It’s hard for me to stay away from it. But I need to. Every night, I lie in bed and wish I could try a trick. Just one trick.”
Craig sets his hands on my shoulders. “No one is stopping you from performing magic.”
I shake my head, jerking away and causing his hands to drop. “He started out that way.”
“Caleb, you’re not going to end up like him.”
“How do you know that?”
He gazes into my eyes. His are the same shade of brown as Aidan’s. “Because you’re a good kid.”
That’s what Julia told me. “Was my dad a good kid?”
Craig’s eyes seem to leave this room as he’s transported back in time to when he and my dad were my age. A soft laugh leaves his mouth. “No.” He laughs again. “He most certainly was not a good kid. When we were fifteen, he wanted classes to be canceled. So one night, he broke us and some of our friends into school and we painted the walls red.” An expression of horror crawls onto his face. “He wanted it to look like someone was murdered in the building.” He swallows hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize until now that there were signs. Signs all of us missed.” He places his hand on my arm. “He’s a terrible person, but one thing he loved, one thing he was proud of, was you. You were his pride and joy.”
I turn away. “How could someone be a good dad and a murderer?”
He raises his hands like he’s trying to understand it himself. “He loved you more than anything and did whatever he could to make sure you were okay.”
“But now he wants to kill me.”
Craig sighs. “He’s not the man he once was. He has a lot of pain and anger burning inside him. You know he and I didn’t have a great childhood.”
Both my dad and uncle were in the foster system. They had been in every home together, but my dad had a harder time adjusting than my uncle. Maybe that’s why my father ended up the way he is now.
Uncle Craig built a life for himself. Studied hard in school, went to college, became a successful lawyer. Adopted a boy with a difficult past. Took me in after my dad went crazy.
But he’s not successful anymore because of me. At least he still has his family.
I glimpse at my uncle, then away. “Do you regret taking me in?”
“Look at me Caleb.”
I force my gaze to meet his.
“Never think that,” he says. “I don’t regret it for one second.”
I want to believe him. But I can’t. There has to be a miniscule part of him that does.
I climb up to my room and browse my computer for any updates on Maxwell the Magnificent. There’s nothing.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lia
Zane answers the door and smiles widely. “If you wanted to see me that badly, you could have just peeked into my room. I don’t have shades, you know.”
I gently slam the letters to his chest. It shocks me for a second just how strong his chest is. It’s like I hit a stone wall. My hand even throbs a little. “I brought your mail.”
He laughs. “Looks like the mail gets mixed up no matter what state you’re in, huh?” He takes them from me. “Thanks. Want to come in? I’m sure Julia would love to see you.”
“Actually, I want to get back to my book…”
He wraps his fingers around my wrist, and I flinch. He doesn’t drop my hand, though. He stares into my eyes in such a deep manner that my heart skips a beat and my stomach flutters.
“Don’t leave,” he says softly. “Don’t escape to your books. Come escape in art. With me.”
I give him a look. “So it’s okay for me to be distracted with your interest and not mine?”
“Yeah.”
I roll my eyes. “Do we always have to play by your rules?”
“Nope. Not at all. We’re playing by your rules, and right now, you want to come to my room.”
His room?
“To draw,” he quickly says. “Just to draw.”
“Fine.”
He sweeps his hand toward the interior of his house. “Come on in.”
He doesn’t provide much room as I enter the house, and his smell tickles my nose. My fingers brush his, sending a chill down my spine. If Zane feels anything, he doesn’t show it.
I cross my arms over my chest, watching him close the door. His eyes move to mine and he gives me his signature lazy smile. “Why are you standing there like a stranger? Come say hi to Julia. She’s making dinner.”
I follow him into the kitchen, and Julia wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.
Zane flings the mail onto the table. “Got mixed in with theirs,” he tells her.
A few pots are cooking on the stove. Whatever she’s making smells delicious. I can’t wait to go home and attempt a recipe Caleb gave me at the end of history class.
Speaking of Caleb, I wonder where he and Aidan are.
Julia tends to her pots as we chat about random topics, mostly about school. Zane crosses his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. I wonder how that “talk” about school went with his parents. From the look on his face, he doesn’t seem happy. Was that why he was so rude to me yesterday? Zane’s not the type of person to get so bent out of shape about school. It must be regarding something else.
“We’re going to my room,” Zane lets Julia know, grabbing my hand.
She looks from him to me, her eyes a bit wide with intrigue. “I see. Is there something you want to tell me?”
Zane groans. “Come on, Julia. I’m showing Lia my drawings. Maybe gonna teach her a thing or two.” And he mutters under his breath, “She always makes a big deal out of nothing.”
Julia smiles, and there’s a gleam in her eyes, as if she knows something I don’t. Letting out another groan, Zane tows me out of the kitchen.
We pass the living room on our way upstairs, and I stop when I spot Caleb and Craig sitting on the couch. Craig’s hand is on a very distraught Caleb, like he’s trying to calm him down. I can’t hear what they’re saying, I only hear their voices.
Zane tugs my hand, and that’s when I realize he’s touching me. No guy other than Josh has ever touched me. Zane’s hand is so big it swallows up my tiny one. And it’s warm, like a cocoon for my fingers.
It doesn’t appear like he cares. Or even notices. His eyes flick to Caleb and Craig, and he frowns.
He tugs me again, and I follow him up the stairs. “Is everything okay with Caleb?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “He’s fine.”
I strain my eyes to take one more look at the forms on the couch. “He doesn’t look fine.” I think back to the text Caleb received during history today. He brushed it off, but I know there’s more to it. “Does it have to do with that secret?” I ask.
He stuffs his free hand into his pocket. “Yeah, but I can’t say more.”
We reach the top of the stairs and I glance around. “Where’s Aidan?”
He shrugs. “Out. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Anyway, here’s my room.” He freezes for a second, like he forgot something. “Uh, don’t mind the mess. Promised Julia I’d clean it, but who really has patience to clean their room, right?”
He throws the door open and I take it in. Clothes are strewn around, a few protruding out of drawers and boxes. There are about four cardboard boxes in here, like he didn’t bother unpacking some of his things.
His sketchpad is on the bed, and a few others are dumped in what looks like a storage closet at the right side of his room. The blinds he put up, then took down, is dumped against that closet.
Also on the bed is a ratty teddy bear that looks like it underwent more than its share of suffering. It’s dressed as a pirate, with an eyepatch and a tiny parrot resting on its shoulder.
He laughs sheepishly. “I don’t even know why I still have that thing. It’s been with me since I was a baby.”
He shoves some clothes off his bed, scoops up the sketchpad, sits down, and pats the spot next to him. I settle down. He flips to the first page. “Want to see some of my stuff before we start?”
“Okay.”
We spend a few minutes perusing his sketches. They’re really remarkable, one prettier than the next. I’m curious if he’s drawn other girls, but there doesn’t seem to be any. He told me I’m the only one he’s sketched, but I’m not sure I believe him. He’s a good-looking guy, so I’m sure he’s had his share of girlfriends.
“What?” he asks with a raised brow. “You don’t like them?”
I wring my fingers in my lap. “No, I do. They’re beautiful.”
“But…?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on.”
I shake my head.
“Please?” He pouts. “It’s not like I’m keeping any secrets from you. Other than the thing with Caleb and our moving here, but that’s not my secret to tell.”
My eyes drop to his hands and I reach over and tug up his sleeves. His skin is so warm. I run my fingers over the scars. “What about these?”
That dark look clouds his face, and he turns away from me, yanking the sleeves down. “Not that.” He slowly faces me. “I don’t ask you about yours because I know it’s a sensitive topic and you’re not ready yet.”
“Yet? I’m never going to tell you or anyone else about it. It never…” I bite my lip, looking away or I’ll start crying. “It never happened.”
The room is bathed in silence. No matter how much I try to force them not to, my thoughts travel to that night six months ago. The memory is so sharp, like it happened yesterday. I can still feel the blades cutting into my skin, the blood pooling around me. I remember the countless therapy sessions I endured after that.
“Hey.” Zane brings his hand to my face, his finger gently rubbing my cheek. I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste the salt on my lips. “It’s okay,” he says softly, continuing to stroke my cheek. Everywhere he touches burns like his finger is a match.
I pull away, drying my eyes with my sleeves. “I’m fine.”
He opens his mouth, maybe to argue, but shuts it. “Okay,” he says after a bit of silence. “We don’t have to talk about the shitty parts of our lives.” He gets up and heads over to his storage closet. After rummaging around, he returns, holding something out to me.
“A sketchpad?” I ask.
“For you.”
I accept it from him and flip through the pages. It’s completely blank. “Are you sure? Seems to be more of use to you than to me.”
He drops down next to me with colored pencils. “Just try it.”
“What exactly am I supposed to do?”
He spends a few minutes teaching me the basics. How to hold the pencil, to make soft strokes, how to capture the light. It’s a little confusing, but he’s very patient.
The first thing I’m going to try is to copy something from his room. “Choose whatever you want,” he tells me.
I stand up and survey around, my eyes landing on the pirate teddy bear. I snatch it off the bed. “Him.”
He lifts a brow. “That might be a little too complicated for your first drawing. What about his pirate hat?”
I sit down and we both draw the hat. Zane shows me where to start, what to copy. He’s a great teacher and I feel like I’m actually drawing something decent.
When we’re done, we hold out the sketchpads on our knees. Of course mine is nothing compared to his, but I’m enjoying the results.
“See.” He flashes me a grin. “Knew you’d be good at it.”
A proud smile tugs my lips.
Zane flips to a clean page in his pad and starts making strokes. “What are you drawing?” I ask.
“You.”
“Why?”
He shrugs, continuing to work. Then he stops and raises his head to mine. “Does that bother you? Because I’ll stop if you want me to.”
“No, I don’t want you to stop. I just don’t understand why you’re drawing me.”
He doesn’t say anything, keeping his eyes on the page. Then he sweeps his pencil along it.
The room is silent except for the soft noises the pencil makes as it dances on the paper. I watch his hand move. He’s not even looking at me to capture all my features. It’s like they’re engraved in his mind. My cheeks warm at the thought and the room grows a little too hot.
“I think I’m going to go.” I get to my feet.
“Wait.” Zane’s hand closes over my wrist. “I don’t want you to leave yet.”
He gently sits me down, scooting closer to me. The sketchpad slips to the floor, the pencils scattering around.
Zane’s green eyes are filled with intense emotion as they stare into mine. I glance to where his fingers are still closed over my wrist. He follows my gaze, then slowly flips my wrist around, exposing the scars. He gently runs his index finger across the marks. I want to pull away, but he’s got a firm hold.
“I get you more than anyone else,” he says, so low I can barely hear him. His eyes have somehow gotten a deeper shade of green, like dark grass. “I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt to anyone. Even the guys.” He shakes his head. “I never thought I’d meet anyone like you. And when I got pissed at you yesterday, I wanted to punch myself. I hate that I was an ass to you. I don’t deserve to have you sitting with me. Even talking to me.”
“I know you were going through something and you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I threw the drawing at you.”
He laughs lightly. “No, I deserved that.” He gazes into my eyes as he lifts his right hand to my cheek. “Lia…I think I…” He dips his head, his mouth only inches away from mine. My heart nearly catapults out of my chest. I shut my eyes.
A memory barrels into my mind. Of another guy bending close, moving his lips over mine. They’re gentle and slow at first, then they grow rough. Painful. Hands pin mine to my sides. Trapping me.
Fear trickles down my spine. Zane’s close—I can feel his warm breath on my face. Another chill runs down my spine, this one stronger than the last.
I turn my head and his lips brush across my cheek. He draws back, his confused eyes searching mine.
I leap to my feet. “I have to go.”
He grabs my hand. “Amelia.”
“Let go.”
He releases my hand, and I flee out the door. I crash into something hard and when I lift my head, I find Aidan standing there.
“Hi.” He curiously peers at Zane’s room. “You okay?”
I push past him, not interested in dealing with boys right now. I shouldn’t have lowered my guard. I shouldn’t have allowed him to get that close to me. What will it take for me to understand that I’ll only get hurt?
Aidan takes hold of my arm. “Lia, what’s going on?”
Zane steps into the hallway, his eyes filled with pain, betrayal, confusion, and concern.
“What did you do to her?” Aidan demands.
Zane glares at him.
I wrench out of Aidan’s hold. “No one did anything to me. Just leave me alone.” I rush down the hall and the stairs, not bothering to acknowledge Julia who yells goodbye from the kitchen, or Craig as he calls my name.
I climb the stairs to my house like my butt’s on fire. Dad’s at the TV and greets me, but I barely hear it.
Dropping down on my bed, I squeeze my plush donkey to my chest and shut my eyes, discarding everything that happened in Zane’s room.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Aidan
Zane and I watch Lia scamper out of the house. The look on her face when she left Zane’s room was pure terror. If he so much as touc
hed her…
I seize him by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the wall. “What did you do to her?”
He shoves me. “Nothing.”
I grab him again. “She looked terrified when she came out of you room. What were the two of you doing in there?”
Zane rams me into the wall so strongly the wind is knocked out of me. He can take me, hands down. Can beat the shit out of me if he wanted to. From the expression in his eyes, I know he’s seriously considering it. He gives me a hard glare before returning to his room and slamming the door.
I thump my fist on his door. “Open up, Zane.”
“Fuck off and leave me the hell alone.”
I knock harder. “Open the damn door!”
“I said fuck the hell off.”
I bang both fists. Even though I’ve known Zane for ten years and he’s my brother, sometimes I don’t trust the guy. He’s got anger issues. Who the hell knows what he said to the sweet girl next door? The girl I would do anything to protect.
“What’s all this noise?” Mom says as she climbs the stairs. “Aidan, why are you banging on Zane’s door?”
I glare at it. “Because he…he…” I rake my hand through my hair, tearing at the strands. “He pissed me the hell off.”
Mom approaches Zane’s room and taps on the door. “Zane, can you come out here for a second?”
“Not if he’s there.”
Mom’s eyes shift to me and she lifts a brow. “What in the world is going on? I don’t know where you’ve been all afternoon, but whatever it is, you need to sort it out.”
“This has nothing to do with that,” I grit out. “It’s a free country and I can go wherever I want.”
She purses her lips. I know, I know. I never snap at my mom. Well, I used to never. When I’m out with the guys from Willow Lake Academy, I feel at peace. Like I belong, like I’m doing something with myself. Then I come back here and have to deal with a crazy Zane? He had no right to hurt Lia.
“Sort this out.” Mom turns on her heels and stomps down the stairs.
My chest heaves as I try to suck some oxygen into my lungs. Maybe I jumped to conclusions. Maybe I shouldn’t have snapped at my brother like that. He doesn’t have a lot of people to rely on other than me, Caleb and my parents. Sometimes I forget just how alone in the world he is.
