My solitude didn’t last long after that.
“Oh, wow. This is really high,” Julianna said, her voice behind me.
Startled, my head flew to my window where she was perched cautiously on the sill, peering down at the ground, obviously anxious about the distance.
I was equally anxious, but not about the height. What the fuck was she doing in my room?
“You’re lucky,” she continued, making herself comfortable. “My window doesn’t have access to the roof like this. If it did, I’d probably be too scared to climb out.” She shivered.
“It’s not really that…” I was distracted by the length of her neck as she tilted it up to look at the sky. I hadn’t realized how pretty her throat was. Or that women could have pretty throats. “What do you want?” I snapped, suddenly irritated.
She shrugged. “Just wanted to know if you enjoyed the show.”
It took me a beat to get what she was referring to. “If you don’t want to be watched, maybe don’t do your thing in public.”
“Not really many options around here.”
“I guess not.”
She didn’t say anything after that, and I tried to ignore her. Tried to pretend she wasn’t there, breathing the same night air, sharing in my escape.
But even silent, even not looking at her, she was still there. Present. With me.
“Brought you something,” she said after an eternity had passed. “Though, after this afternoon, maybe you don’t want them.”
Intrigued, I glanced back to see her waving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“How did you…?” Had she overheard me and my mother talking after all? I could feel embarrassment creeping up all over again.
“Antoine told me you took the fall for him and Troy. Figured you deserved them as a reward, but maybe you’re done with them after getting caught.”
So she didn’t know the whole story. That was a relief.
Not willing to ignore a gift when I got so few, I crawled over until I was in reach of her. Then I stretched my hand out, my heart jumping when my finger accidentally brushed her skin as I accepted the offering.
Leaning back onto my heels, I took out a cigarette and lit it. When I tried to hand the rest back, she shook her head. “Keep them.”
I shoved them in the pocket of my hoodie and kept one hand in there as I inhaled. “Are these from you or from him?”
“I asked him if I could have them. He didn’t ask who they were for. I’m sure he assumed they were for me.”
“Awfully nice of him to give up a whole pack. Especially when he lost one earlier.” Though money wasn’t an issue for him, it couldn’t be easy to get smokes on a closed campus.
“Well, I’d been awfully nice to him, as you saw…”
For the briefest second, I wondered if that was the whole reason she’d sucked him off—so she could get cigarettes to give to me.
Then I realized how stupid that thought was. Not everything was about me. In fact, according to my mother, very few things were.
“Birch your boyfriend?” I knew from what he’d said earlier that they weren’t together but was curious what she’d say.
She stared off in the distance. “Nah. Honestly, I don’t even think he likes me very much. He just gets off on fooling around with the headmaster’s daughter.”
I wanted to ask her why she did it then, but that felt too personal.
Besides, the thought of her potentially gushing over Antoine Birch made me nauseated for some reason.
Actually, it was probably just the cigarette because I certainly didn’t give a flying fuck about who Julianna Stark gushed over.
Did I?
“I have something else for you too.” She shook a tin of mints. “I’ll leave them on your dresser. Dad doesn’t have the best sense of smell, but I’m paranoid.”
“Thanks,” I said, not sure what to make of her kindness. Not sure what to make of her at all.
“Anytime.” She stood, but she kept her head out, and I could sense she had something more to say for several beats before she spoke. “It could have been worse.”
“What could have?” Did she know what her father had done? Was she guessing?
She ignored my question. “It will be worse. You’re going to have to figure out how you’re going to survive here or…”
“Or what?”
“Or...you just won’t.”
Strange advice. Ominous advice. I took a long draw on my cigarette, stared into the night, and tried to process all of it. This house. This situation. This girl, with her pale eyes and serious expression and lush lips.
Lips that had, less than thirty minutes before, been wrapped around another boy’s cock.
When I turned back to look at her again, I was surprised to find I was disappointed that she was gone.
Seven
Jolie
Present
* * *
The house smelled exactly the same—a combination of Lysol and home cooking—and with a single inhalation, I was swept back to the past. With Cade right behind me, it was the good memories that came first. Some of the best moments of my life were associated with him in this place.
I glanced at the hallway upstairs, halfway expecting to see the ghost of my former self peeking through the railing. The first time I’d seen him, he’d stolen my breath. How long after had he stolen my heart?
But then came the other memories—the bad memories, the complicated memories—rolling in like a tornado, intent on destroying everything in its wake. My body had prepared for it before my mind, the constant fear. My shoulders were already tense. My ears were already straining for sounds of another person in the house. Hyperawareness switched on like it was a function of my autonomic system, as much a reflex as breathing and temperature regulation. Where was he now? Was he close? Was he coming for me?
The fact that I didn’t hear him only heightened my tension.
“The living room’s new,” Cade said, reminding me that it had been seventeen years since he’d last been here.
Carla followed his gaze, her forehead creased. “I guess we had that redone after you’d gone. But it’s definitely not new.”
“A couple of years after graduation, I think,” I said.
“So sorry I couldn’t be here for that.” Having been groomed to not display emotions in this household, Cade’s voice seemed both out of place and to be expected. It occurred to me then that this might be harder for him than for me. I hadn’t been thrown out of this house—I’d left voluntarily.
And damn, it was hard for me.
Without thinking, I reached out to take his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Who it was meant to comfort—him or me—I didn’t know. I did know I couldn’t imagine being here without him.
Carla cleared her throat. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Julianna. Considering how upset you were when you left, I’m surprised you’re back.”
Cade swung his attention toward me, eagerly picking up on details I’d continually refused to give him.
And now I had to give him something. Because if I didn’t, he’d ask her. “I came last month. To ask my father for some money that he promised me years ago. He said no.”
Put like that, it made it seem like the reasons I wanted my father gone were money related, which wasn’t exactly the case. “It’s more complicated than that,” I amended. “But that’s the gist of it.”
He studied me. “He didn’t need more reasons to be hated,” he said, and I let out the breath I’d been holding, afraid that he’d press for more.
“No, he didn’t.” I was sure this wasn’t the end of it, but at least it was the end of it for now.
“It’s a good surprise,” Carla said, her tone at odds with the statement, her eyes pinned on our interlaced hands. “Are you staying the night?”
“No, just dropping by.” I started to drop Cade’s hand, her attention making me feel ill at ease, but he wouldn’t let mine go, a visible demonstration
of defiance.
I didn’t fight him, but the connection no longer felt soothing.
“You were in the area?”
“We, um.” I looked to him, hoping he’d step in. When he didn’t, I tried to remember what we’d practiced in the car. “We happened to both be in New York at the same time, and we met up, which led to a trip down memory lane, and on a whim, we thought we’d come up here. See how things have changed. See what’s the same.”
“My idea,” he said, seeming to understand that that made more sense, considering the way my last visit had ended.
“He talked me into a day trip. I have to be back at my job on Monday.” That last part was a spontaneous lie. An excuse not to stay.
Not a good enough excuse, apparently. “Monday is three days away. You can stay the weekend.”
“I’m sure Langford would love that,” Cade muttered too quietly for Carla to hear.
I jumped in with a smile before she asked him to repeat himself. “I think dinner is all we can promise.”
“Then, I’ll take what I can get.” An awkward beat passed. “Well. I suppose we don’t need to spend all evening standing in the foyer. Come on in.”
She headed toward the dining room, leading us as though we were first-time guests and not family members. “It’s nothing fancy tonight. You know I don’t prepare extravagant meals when your father’s away, so it’s just homemade soup heated up, but I’ll throw some rolls in the oven, and it should be enough.”
I exchanged a glance with Cade. “Dad’s not here?”
She grabbed a lace tablecloth from the dining hutch as soon as we entered the room—the table wouldn’t be bare at this time of day if Dad was here.
“It was a testing day at school,” she said, smoothing the cloth out and tugging one side so it fell evenly. “He doesn’t need to be around for that, so he left early for the weekend.”
“Left for where?” Cade asked.
“The cabin. Finally cold enough for ice fishing. It’s the first time this season he’s been able to get up there. Your father’s gotten quite passionate about the sport.”
“He’s not my father.” His hand tensed in mine.
In contrast, I felt mine relax.
He wasn’t here. I didn’t have to see him. What a relief. “He’ll be gone all weekend?” I asked, just to be sure before I got too comfortable.
“Be back Sunday.” She stood upright, the business with the tablecloth completed. This time when she smiled, it reached her eyes. “You could stay until then.”
“We really hadn’t planned—”
“We’ll stay,” Cade said, cutting me off.
I was too taken aback to hide my shock. “We will?”
He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Seems silly to rush back. We have our luggage.”
“Good,” Carla said before I could argue. “You can have your old rooms. They both still have beds in them.”
“They both have locks on the outside so you can keep us apart?”
This time she heard Cade’s snide remark, and her smile fell. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“No. Of course, you wouldn’t.”
“Cade…” I warned. I had no idea what his intentions were, but agreeing to stay then picking a fight seemed counterproductive.
“What?”
“Play nice.”
The acid remained in his expression, but he did manage something that almost looked like a smile.
“Well,” Carla said, breaking through the tension. “I’ll put the bread in the oven if you want to set the table. We should use the china.”
“The china?” I glanced at the cabinet against the far wall. We’d only ever brought the good dishes out on holidays.
“It’s a special occasion,” she explained, her tone flat. “Not every day my children return home for a visit. We should celebrate.” With that, she disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen.
As soon as she was gone, Cade dropped my hand—validating my suspicion that it had been a show—and opened the china cabinet.
“Why did you say we’d stay?” I hissed, taking the plate he handed to me.
“Why would we not?”
I set the dish on the table, then took the next one he offered. “Oh, I don’t know. Because we hate it here?”
“Yeah. There is that. You could throw a plate. Maybe make you feel better.”
“Very funny.” The set was already missing a dish, and thinking about the circumstances surrounding that sent me down a rabbit hole of emotions, which was exactly why I didn’t want to be here longer than necessary. Too many complicated memories.
Cade paused, holding the last plate instead of passing it over. “Did you hear her? ‘My children.’ Like we were once a happy family. And what’s with this whole ‘we should celebrate’ act?”
There had been other parts of our conversation that had sparked my interest more than this, but I considered her words now. “Maybe it’s easier for her to pretend that we were.”
“That’s an awfully generous outlook.”
It was, I supposed. And maybe I was in a better position to have it than Cade since she hadn’t been my mother, and she hadn’t abandoned me.
More, though, I’d come to terms with something that I wasn’t sure he’d yet realized. “To be fair, she was just as much his victim as we were.”
His jaw tensed. “No.” He waved the plate at me, emphasizing his point. “She doesn’t get to be forgiven. She was complicit.”
I didn’t want to argue.
I also knew these feelings of his weren’t going to go away. “Can you really spend two days here? Because I really don’t know that I can.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it.
When he opened it again, he sighed. “Look, I know it’s not what we planned, and that this is awful. Probably even more awful than it seems on the surface. But this is really a blessing in disguise. It will give us more time to find the key, and who knows? Maybe we’ll find something else useful. Or get something out of her.” He gestured toward the kitchen, indicating his mother. “We have to remember why we’re here.”
Oh, I hadn’t forgotten. The goal was to prove my father was involved in a sex trafficking ring or set him up for it.
“Besides, we can’t go to the cabin while he’s there. Might as well stay here until he’s on his way back.”
To succeed, we needed to get the key for the cabin safe from his home office and then use it to plant evidence, which meant my father couldn’t be there. And he was right—staying here was our best chance, but that didn’t uncoil the tight knot in my stomach. Even without my father present, fear remained. It was a stench soaked so deeply into the woodwork of our home that it lingered after the source was removed.
“And then we’ll go to the cabin together, right?” I asked, needing confirmation that there would be something more between us before we had to be over.
Before he answered, his mother pressed through the swinging door with a crockpot full of soup in her hands. “It will be just another few minutes for the bread. Let me help you finish with the place settings.”
We fell quickly into a rhythm from years ago—one of us putting out the goblets, another filling them with ice, the third following behind with a pitcher of water. The food came to the table in the same method, a practiced machine of serving, and when everything was in place—the head of the table left empty—several seconds passed before any of us dared to be the first to sit.
We’d been well trained.
It was Cade who pulled his chair out first. “Let’s get at it. I’m starved.”
We skipped the prayer, Cade immediately reaching for the ladle. I followed suit and put a warm roll on my plate before passing the basket to Carla. Once everyone was served, we preoccupied ourselves with eating, minutes passing with no one talking.
It didn’t take long before the silence became heavy.
So much to say. So much better left unsaid. Opening conversation
felt like walking into a minefield, and none of us wanted to be the one who took the first step. Even the most innocent comment could be a trigger.
I was the first to break. “I’d forgotten how good your cooking is, Carla.”
“Hard to remember when you don’t visit,” she said.
And there went the first bomb.
I took a slow breath in but still didn’t manage to hold back what came out. “Yes, I suppose missing out on your cooking is the price for my mental health and well-being. Perhaps it was a poor life choice.”
Cade chuckled across from me.
“He looked for you, you know,” she said casually, as though I’d simply been misplaced. “He wouldn’t admit that to you, but he did.”
I took a sip of water before I responded. “I figured he would. I didn’t want to be found.”
She shook her head in admonition. “Broke his heart when you took off. Broke mine too. It really wasn’t fair to us the way you took off. It wasn’t fair to—”
Wary of how she’d finish the sentence, I cut her off. “It wasn’t fair to anyone. I get it. You want to know who it was fair to? Me. It was time I looked out for myself, and so I did.” I stared at her pointedly, hoping she understood the boundaries that I’d set up for the conversation.
Hoping she wouldn’t try to venture past them.
Thankfully, she stayed inside the bounds. “Seems to have done good for you. The blonde is a bit extreme, but you look well.”
I gritted my teeth through the backhanded compliment. “Thank you. I am well.”
“I have to say,” she said, lifting her spoon to gesture toward her son. “I’m surprised you didn’t immediately go looking for this one.”
“I didn’t want to be found either,” Cade said, not missing a beat.
“I know. Your father looked for you too.”
He was sitting across from me, but I could feel him go rigid as clearly as if I were pressed against him. “First of all, he’s not my father. Second of all, if that man was looking for me, it could not have been for any good reason.”
Wild War Page 5
