“Please don’t refer to me as your little sister,” I say. “This situation is only temporary. The moment my parents are found, I’m moving back to Honeyton.”
“And what if they’re never found?” Easton asks with his brow cocked. “Then what, little sis?”
“I’m not your little sis.” I twist toward the window as I mutter, “And if, for some crazy reason, my parents aren’t ever found, I’m taking off the moment I graduate and never looking back.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Foster mutters. “Maybe you should take off now. Easton and I have some money we can give you, if you can’t afford your own place.”
I breathe in and out, my fingers curling into fists, and stabbing my fingernails into my palms in an attempt to keep my emotions under control—physical pain over emotional pain. “That’s a great idea, and one I’d love to do, but since my parents left my guardianship rights to your father, I’ll be considered a runaway if I try to take off before I turn eighteen.”
I catch Foster’s reflection in the window as he shares a look with Easton.
“What if we could help you disappear?” Easton suggests. “We’re really good at that.”
I slowly turn my head and measure them up. Easton’s lips are curled into a grin, while Foster has a frown etched onto his face.
“Is that an offer?” I glance between them. “Or a threat? Because, if it’s a threat, you should know that I have a can of pepper spray in my pocket that I’ve used more than a handful of times, and I’d love to use it again. Practice makes perfect, right?”
Easton sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as his gaze glides to Foster. “I don’t know, Fost,” he says with amusement. “She might just fit in with us after all.”
Foster’s narrowed eyes bore into me as he shakes his head. “No way. She’ll never fit in. Newbies never do.”
I raise my brow. “Newbies? How many people have you guys had live with you?”
“A couple,” Easton replies with shrug. “My parents used to foster kids. Their stay with us was always temporary though, just like yours is gonna be. Remember that. That you’re not one of us.”
More than done with this conversation, I push open the door.
“Hey, where are you going?” Easton calls out with laughter ringing in his tone.
“To help your dad unload the truck.” I start to shut the door when anger waves over me and, I add, “And to get away from your stupid asses.”
As I slam the door, anger bursts inside me and I want nothing more than to take off and never look back.
If I were braver, maybe I’d do just that.
Eight
I help Gabe unload the truck to the best of my ability, but eventually, Foster and Easton get out and take over. It takes us a while to get everything unloaded, and Easton and Foster start to complain about how slow I’m moving, as if all this is my fault. Technically, I guess it is, considering they’re only here because of my parents’ will. Still, it’s annoying. They’re annoying. This entire situation is annoying.
By the time we’re finished and climbing back into the truck, I’m bursting with annoyance.
“Man, this is some shitty weather,” Gabe remarks after we all hop into the truck. He turns on the engine then flips the wipers on as rain pours down on us. “We’re lucky we’re done.”
Foster nods in agreement as he fastens his seatbelt. “I’m hoping it’ll start snowing soon, though. I hate when there’s no snow in December.”
“Agreed,” Easton says then pauses. “You know what we should do? We should stop by Nelly’s on our way home. We haven’t seen her in forever.
“We don’t have time,” Gabe says, staring at the road ahead as he drives away from the storage unit. “We really need to get home.”
“Oh come on, pops.” Easton groans dramatically. “We spent the entire day working our asses off just so some girl can move in with us. We deserve a break.”
“Knock it off, Easton,” Gabe warns, giving Easton a pressing look. “And we’re not going to see Nelly. End of discussion.”
Easton rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever.”
The cab grows quiet after that, tension lacing the air.
Awesome. If this is how the next handful of months are going to be, my life is about to become extremely uncomfortable.
Nine
No one says much for the rest of the drive, and by the time we reach the Everettsons’ house, the rain has picked up but my nervousness has toned down. Of course, the moment Gabe pulls up in front of the massive, three-story home, my pulse quickens with anxiety again.
“Damn this weather,” Gabe says as rain drizzles from the clouds. “Hopefully, it’ll ease up a bit before tomorrow’s tournament.”
“Shit, I didn’t even think about that.” Easton shoves the door open to get out. “What’ll we do if it rains?”
“Still have it probably.” Gabe starts to get out but pauses, glancing at me. “Our family participates in baseball tournaments every Sunday.”
Unsure why he’s telling me this, I nod. “Sounds cool.”
He offers me a smile. “We’ll be gone all day, which means you’ll get the house to yourself.”
That thought sounds nice, although I feel a bit hurt he didn’t invite me to go. Then again, I’m not part of their family. Just some strange girl they got stuck with. I’m not even sure if my dad talked to Gabe before he listed him in their will to be my guardian.
What if he didn’t? What if all Gabe’s tense smiles are because I’m not really wanted here. Foster and Easton don’t seem too thrilled about my presence. Maybe that’s how the entire family feels.
Forcing a smile, I say, “Okay.”
His gets out of the car, and Easton and Foster follow without saying a word. None of them wait for me as they start up the paved walkway that leads to the double-doored, column-lined entrance of the colossal house.
Sucking in a breath, I steady my nerves and climb out of the truck. My boots splash in the puddles as I trail behind them, taking in the massive house, the spacious yard, and the five-car garage. I can’t even wrap my head around how big and fancy this place is, and it leaves me feeling confused.
How does my dad know someone who can afford a place like this? As far as I know, he grew up living in poverty in Honeyton.
I really need to talk to Gabe and hear the story, but maybe after a few days when I’ve gotten settled and used to the idea of all this.
“I hope Charlotte made dinner already,” Easton announces as he pushes open the front doors. “Moving shit makes me hungry.”
“It’s not even five o’clock,” Foster says as he steps inside. “It’s not going to be ready yet.”
“I can request an early dinner,” Gabe tells them. “Just let me check in with your mom first and see if she’s okay with it.”
“Who’s Charlotte?” I find myself asking as I step inside and take everything in.
Holy shit, this place is huge, with a high, peaked ceiling, a wide staircase, black and white tiled floors, and the glitteriest chandeliers I’ve ever seen—maybe the only chandeliers I’ve ever seen.
I’m never going to feel comfortable here.
“She’s our cook and housekeeper,” Gabe tells me. “If you need anything to eat at all, you can ask her.”
Yeah, I’m not sure I feel comfortable with that.
“Can I just make my own food?” I ask, feeling very uncomfortable at the moment.
Is this how I’m going to feel every day?
Gabe gives me a concerned look. “You’re more than welcome to if you want, but just know the option is there.”
I force yet another strained smile. “Thanks.”
His smile mirrors mine but morphs into a real one when a woman with flowing blonde hair appears at the top of the stairway.
She looks around the same age as my mom, but that’s about where the similarities stop. Where my mom is all torn jeans and leather jackets with wild curls, this woman is sporting a flawless w
hite pencil dress, matching heels, and a string of pearls decorates her neck.
“That took you longer than I thought.” She starts down the stairway, each of her steps graceful.
“The weather slowed us down a bit.” Gabe meets her at the bottom of the stairway and places a kiss on her cheek.
“Was it storming over in Honeyton all day?” the woman wonders while smoothing Gabe’s hair into place. “Because it’s been great weather here up until now.”
“It rained almost the entire time we were there,” Gabe says, his gaze traveling to me. “It looked like a pretty bad storm blew through last night, too?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure if he’s directly asking me. “It storms there a lot.”
Before he can say anything more, the woman’s weird but beautiful shade of lavender eyes light up. “Oh, my gosh, you look just like your parents.” She swings around Gabe and puts a hand on each of my arms, her gaze scrolling over me before zeroing in on my eyes. “And those eyes … Jesus, they’re gorgeous… You look just like her.”
Two things puzzle me about her statement. 1). My eyes are far from gorgeous, the color is just a simple blue. Well, a bright blue, but still, blue eyes are really common. And 2). I don’t look very much like my parents, both of them having blonde hair and green eyes.
She must read the confusion on my face because she adds, “I met your aunt Aurora a couple of times, and she looks a lot like you.”
“You’ve met my aunt?” Hurt stabs my chest. I haven’t even met her.
“It was a very long time ago,” she explains, smoothing my hair away from my face, acting very motherly. “As far as I know, she hasn’t had any contact with the real world in ages.”
“My parents haven’t spoken to her in years.” I pause, deliberating my next words carefully. “They’ve also never mentioned you guys.”
“We’ve seen each other a couple of times over the years, but we haven’t been close since college. I wish that had never turned into the case, though.” She sighs sadly. “I was so upset when I heard what happened to them.”
“So, you know my parents, too?” I ask, and she nods but makes no effort to embellish. “Who are you exactly?” I’m assuming she’s Gabe’s wife, but she hasn’t introduced herself, so I’m not positive.
“Oh, my goodness, I completely forgot to introduce myself, didn’t I?” She laughs then steps back and sticks out her hand. “I’m Emaline, Gabe’s wife and the mother to the six hellions who live in this household.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I mean my words. Emaline seems nice enough.
We shake hands, and then she casts a quick glance at Foster and Easton. “I hope everyone’s treated you wonderfully today.”
Easton and Foster smile at their mom, but then Easton smirks at me when she turns back around. Foster’s smile dissipates, too, as he gives me a hard look. It almost makes me want to tell Emaline the truth, but I also don’t want to deal with drama, so …
“Everyone’s been awesome,” I lie with a plastic smile.
She visibly relaxes while Easton’s smirk magnifies and Foster rolls his eyes.
“That’s great to hear. I was a bit worried …” She shakes her head and smiles at me. “Would you like to see your room? I’m sure you’ve had an exhausting day and probably need a bit of a break from the chaos.”
I nod, more than eager to lock myself up in a bedroom where I can pretend this isn’t my life now.
Pretend.
Pretend.
Pretend.
“Great.” She turns to Easton. “Do you mind showing her to her room while I go make sure Charlotte is getting everything ready for tonight’s dinner?”
An exaggerated smile takes over Easton’s face. “Of course, Ma.”
“Thank you, sweet boy.” She ruffles his hair like he’s still a little kid then heads off toward a door located on the far back wall.
“I’m going to get started on bringing in your stuff,” Gabe tells me. Then he pulls open the door and steps outside, leaving me standing in the foyer with Easton and Foster.
That stupid smirk instantly consumes Easton’s face. “Come on, Fost; let’s go show lightning eyes her new room.”
Great. He’s given me a nickname.
Foster rolls his eyes. “Mom said you had to do it, not me.”
“Trust me; you’re going to want to be a part of this.” His smile makes a chill trickle down my spine.
And that chill only grows colder as a small smile touches Foster’s lips.
“Fine.” Foster starts toward the stairway.
Easton follows him, motioning for me to come on. But I hesitate. When he notices my lollygagging, he sighs.
“Hurry your ass up, lightning eyes,” he says. “We’ve already wasted half the day taking care of you.”
Foul words tickle at the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back and trail after them as they walk up the stairway. When we reach the top, they lead me down a hallway lined with closed doors. The deep blue walls are decorated with family portraits, and the light from outside filters in from the occasional skylight. The farther I get into the house, the more in awe I become. It’s so big and nice and lavish and completely the opposite of what I’m used to, but not in a good way.
I want to go home.
Tear sting my eyes, but I force them back as we stop in front of a shut door at the end of the hallway.
“Welcome to your new home.” Foster grins as he twists the knob and shoves open the door.
My stomach instantly drops at the sight of an old, rickety stairway on the other side.
“Well, aren’t you going to go in?” Easton asks when I make no effort to step over the threshold.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I summon a breath and step inside, staring up at the top of the stairs. The lights are off, so I can’t see where they lead to, but cobwebs line the railing.
Are they being serious or just messing with me?
“There’s a bed up there and a dresser.” Foster slants against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Our house is already full, so this is the best my parents can do. You can either take it or leave and go live somewhere else.”
My fingernails stab into my palms. “I already told you that I can’t leave.”
Mustering up every ounce of strength I have left, I start up the stairs, telling myself that maybe it’s not as bad as I think it’s going to be. That the stairway is just a dusty mess because who cleans stairways anyway? But then I reach the top step and realize how wrong I am.
Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have been able to see anything if, at that precise moment, lightning hadn’t zapped across the sky. With all the skylights on the roof, the entire room lights up with a bright blue glow, giving me a brief glimpse of the dusty floorboards, the unfinished walls, and the twin bed perched in the corner.
A thunder boom of a second later, a light flips on above my head.
“The light switch is down here,” Easton calls up the stairway with a snicker. “Enjoy your new home, lightning eyes.” At that, a door slams shut.
Part of me worries maybe they locked me in, but at this point, I don’t think I care. Not when I’m on the verge of crying.
A wave of sadness rolls over me as I inch farther into the room, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. Part of me really wants to believe this isn’t my room, that Easton and Foster are screwing with me, but then I note the fresh blankets on the bed and the clean pillows. Someone has made a bit of an effort to clean this up, for my arrival, I’m sure.
Sighing, I walk over to the bed and sit down, looking around. The only other items occupying the space is a dresser, a lamp, and a wooden trunk. Curious, I get back up and try to open it, but it’s padlocked shut.
Scratching my head, I move back to the bed, lie down, and stare up at the windows above me. Rain sprinkles across the glass in light drizzles, lightning occasionally flashing and thunder booming. The longer I lie there, the more tears threaten to pour from my eyes. Wh
en a sob manages to escape my throat, something about the movement unleashes a pain from inside me.
I start to cry uncontrollably, the sound louder than even the rain clinking against the glass. I try to get myself to stop, but I can’t seem to find the willpower I used to possess.
Ten
Somehow during the mad chaos of tears, I manage to doze off. When I wake up, the entire space is dark and quiet; the thunder and lightning has settled outside.
Blinking dazedly, I peer around, attempting to get my bearings. I can’t see a damn thing, other than a bit of moonlight trickling through the windows. That’s when I realize night has fallen while I was out, leaving me to wonder what time it is.
Rolling over, I dig my phone out of my pocket, and a drop of light trickles through the darkness as I swipe my finger across the screen. Shit, it’s ten thirty, which means I’ve been asleep for over six hours and missed dinner. With how quiet the house is, I’m betting everyone’s gone to bed already.
What doesn’t make sense, though, is why my bedroom light is off. Did someone come up here when I was asleep? I’m not sure how I feel about that … No, actually I do. I feel really, really uncomfortable. In fact, this entire day has been nothing but a series of uncomfortable occurrences.
Maybe I should just go back to sleep and pretend I’m someplace else until tomorrow morning …
My stomach grumbles in protest, reminding me that I’ve barely eaten all day.
“Fuck, I need to eat something,” I mutter, rolling out of bed.
Turning on my flashlight app, I make my way across the room and down the stairs. Then I try to turn on the light, but it doesn’t come on. Great, the power’s out.
Beaming my phone around, I glance around at the cobwebs covering everything. Thankfully, I can’t see any spiders or else I’d be running out of here screaming.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I reach for the doorknob, crossing my fingers I’ll be able to find the kitchen on my own so I can at least grab a snack and some water. But I freeze right before I pull the door open as voices flow in from the other side.
The Simplicity in Chaos Page 4
