The tenderness in Olivia’s eyes and the concern in her voice allowed me to be a part of that affection for just a few minutes. And I honestly have no idea what to do with it. It’s like I’m fumbling through the maze at Blackwood, trying to find my way. Just like the foreign, sometimes scary and almost always overwhelming feelings I have for Grant.
I’ve been resistant and freaked out by what’s been happening between us since I met him. We’ve become close so quickly; it’s left me uncertain of my footing, like the world is spinning too fast. And I don’t know what to do with the trust he’s instilled in me or how to keep his heart safe—especially when I’m not sure how to trust or love anyone right now. And I don’t want to screw us up.
I pick up the phone on the nightstand, and without reading a single text, I send a message to both Ashton and Grant. My mom’s ill. I’ll be back soon. Can’t talk. When I’m ready, I’ll explain. I need time.
And then I message Dr. Kendall, asking that she remove them from my Contacts.
I know pushing them both away is not what Niall and Olivia would want me to do. They’d be disappointed with me for the lesson I did not learn. But it’s what I need to do. And I can only hope they’ll understand when I am ready. Besides, I tend to learn everything the hard way … just like my stupid brother.
When you needed me most, I wasn’t there for you. Instead, I betrayed you.
When I find my way downstairs, having taken a few wrong turns in their huge Victorian home, the house appears to be empty. I poke my head into room after room but don’t find anyone in them. I set my things on a chair at a round kitchen table. The table is nestled into a nook lined with windows with views of their patio, inground pool and fenced-in, vibrant green yard.
I’m still staring out the window, watching a hummingbird flutter around a shiny ball in the garden, when I hear Niall’s voice in the distance. It’s coming from somewhere down the hall behind a closed door. Maybe his office?
Joey’s voice turns me around. “You’re not driving Lily’s car back, so don’t even think about it.” He and Lance enter through a door off the kitchen. Joey holds out his hand while Lance dangles a key above his head. “You’re lucky Dad didn’t take away any of your campus privileges when he found out you drove it all the way here.”
“Hey, thought you were sleeping,” Lance says. Joey snatches the key from him while he’s distracted. “Dude! I’m an excellent driver!”
“Without a license,” Joey reminds him.
Lance huffs and mutters, “Doesn’t mean anything.”
Having been a passenger once during some of his illegal driving, I’m grateful Joey has the key.
“When are you leaving for Blackwood?” I ask as Lance digs around in the fridge.
“We were just loading the car. I’m moving into Printz-Lee this weekend for soccer conditioning,” Joey tells me. “I still have a few more things left to pack.”
“When do you think you’ll be done?”
“Not too much longer.” He eyes me curiously. “I thought we were leaving after you visited your mother?”
“Uh, no, I’m not going back to the hospital. I’ll ask your mom to bring the bag to her. So I’m ready to get out of here whenever you are.”
“Are you …” Joey stops himself, knowing I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. “Okay. Give me fifteen minutes?”
“I call shotgun!” Lance announces loudly.
“Don’t be a dick,” Joey says, elbowing him.
Rubbing his ribs, Lance retorts, “What? It’s just Lana.” He looks to me apologetically. “I mean, you’re basically family.”
I smile. “It’s all good. I’ll probably sleep the entire way anyway.”
“You know what that means, right?” he taunts Joey. “We get to listen to my music.”
“Great,” Joey grumbles, walking through the kitchen. “Lana, help yourself to anything. I’ll let you know when we’re set to go.”
I explore the living room and another room with really expensive—and old—furniture, taking in frame after frame of pictures. They’re of the family, mostly the boys, at different ages. And they’re placed everywhere—on the walls, the fireplace mantels, the side tables and bookcases. I think my house has one of me, my yearly school photo. But that hasn’t changed since seventh grade, the year my grandmother died.
I smile at a photo of the three brothers laughing while grappling and holding one another in headlocks. Parker looks in his early teens. There are pictures of naked babies in bathtubs filled with bubbles. Camping in tents. Hiking in the woods. I spot Isaac in many, easily distinguishable in his glasses. He and Parker appear to have been close when they were young, before Isaac’s teen years. There’s an adorable image of Isaac sitting behind a toddler Parker on a slide at the park. And …
I pick up the silver-framed photo of a chubby, dark-haired toddler digging in the sand with a pale, white-haired girl—both wearing bathing suits. They’re crouched while holding shovels stuck in the beach sand, looking up at the camera with cheesy smiles.
“Guess they’re not all in the attic, huh?” I muse when I sense someone enter the room.
“How do you know we have pictures of you in the attic?” Niall asks. Not the someone I was expecting.
“Joey found them. He asked if I remembered coming here,” I confess, setting the photo back on the shelf.
“You were young, too young to remember.”
“Why’d I stop visiting?” I turn to face him, hoping he’ll provide answers his wife wouldn’t. He doesn’t respond. I’m not surprised. “Then tell me this, who’s paying for me to attend Blackwood? Whose will am I in that is now being challenged? Why don’t I know about it?”
“Who’s been talking to you?”
For the first time, I note suspicion reflected in his bright blue eyes.
I’ve finally hit a nerve.
“Not you. Not my mother. I told you, I’m going to find out. And you may not like how.”
Niall narrows his eyes, his jaw set. “Does this have anything to do with what happened to you this morning? Do you know who was in your apartment?”
It’s my turn not to answer.
“Whatever it is you’re doing, stop.” His tone is deep and authoritative.
If I were one of his sons, I’d probably be lowering my head in compliance. But I don’t belong to him. And I’m not very good at following orders.
“Sorry, Niall. Chaos seems to follow me wherever I go. Just ask your brother.” I start past him.
“There are things I’m trying to protect you from,” he warns. “But you’re making it very difficult.”
“Then stop!” I bite back. “I don’t need your protection. I need the truth. You can tell my mother that whenever she’s ready to tell me what happened between her and Maggie and your other brother … she knows where to find me. Otherwise, don’t bother. I’m done hurting for everybody else.”
I leave Niall still as a statue in the fancy room. Maybe now, he’ll finally take me seriously.
“All set. I texted my mom about the bag to take to the hospital,” Joey informs me when I enter the kitchen.
He has my backpack dangling over a shoulder and is balancing the wooden box with his other hand. I was planning to return it to my mother, knowing I have no right to the secrets that have been locked inside all these years.
Screw it. It’s coming with me.
“I’m ready,” I respond, following him out the door.
“Dad, we’re leaving!” Lance yells, bounding down the stairs.
“Have a safe drive,” Niall calls from wherever he is, his voice carrying throughout the house. “I’ll tell your mother you said good-bye. She’ll be up in a couple weeks for the start of the semester.”
The sun is preparing to set by the time we pull through Blackwood’s monstrous, scrolling gates.
We stopped at a small farm restaurant along the way. The guys didn’t seem to mind that I was quiet. Lance made up for it with elaborate storie
s that made me laugh and my midsection ache. Joey kept checking his phone and texting more than I’d ever seen him do before. He’d glance at me with a sad smile before answering whoever was on the other end. I slept most of the drive—or tried to when my thoughts weren’t analyzing and second-guessing every decision I’d made today.
I’m exhausted by the time I step into the foyer but not enough to hide my surprise when I find Dr. Kendall standing just inside the door to greet us.
“It’s nice to have you back,” she says with a wide smile that I think is supposed to hold some comfort in it. But she’s either full wattage or puckered scowl. I don’t think she’s figured out the in-between, or the surgical intervention prevents it. “Lana, could you sit with me a moment?”
Lance lifts his eyebrows as if to say, Good luck, and continues toward the Court. I follow Dr. Kendall into her black and white office and set my belongings on one of the delicate black guest chairs before sitting on the other.
Dr. Kendall remains standing with her hands folded. Instead of sitting on her throne, she stops in front of me and leans against her polished white desk.
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother’s condition. Mr. Harrison has agreed to keep in contact, so we can make you aware of any changes. And you clearly sustained some injuries while you were at home.” She shudders as if the thought of it is beyond her comprehension. “Please follow up with our clinician on Wednesday morning to assure you’re healing properly. And I’d like you to meet with Mr. Garner daily, so he can assess your emotional stability and provide any warranted support.”
I tilt my head at her odd choice of words. I suspect she doesn’t do the caring pep talks very often. She kinda sucks at them.
“I know it may be difficult for you to express yourself effectively, but it’s important. So please comply.” She lifts a tablet from her desktop. “In the meantime, I’ve notified the country club that you will be returning to work on Saturday but under physical limitations until you’re fully healed. And per your request, I’ve suspended Grant Philips and Ashton Arbor from your account. You can just as easily add them back.” She peers at me over the top of the screen. “And I hope you do.”
I stand, prompting her to end this impassive monologue. Perhaps Dr. Kendall’s really a drone.
“One more thing.”
I remain standing and fight back a groan.
“If you do decide to reinstate Mr. Philips as one of your contacts, he has been approved to escort you off property. Your off-campus restrictions have been removed, but you still need to be accompanied by an approved chaperone.”
I nod. Although I don’t plan on going anywhere for a while, learning that I can leave campus with Grant makes my heart hurt in a thousand different ways. Mostly because I miss him. But I’m also not ready to see him.
There are more voices on each floor of the dorm as I trudge up the endless stone staircase. Apparently, the rest of the social committee has arrived. Thankfully, I wasn’t here when their designers wreaked havoc with their drills and bolts of fabric. It was madness with just Arden’s army, so I can’t imagine what it was like with a dozen others. I plan to be nowhere near the dorm when the remainder of the students arrive for the fall.
No one attempts to introduce themselves as I pass the chatting and laughing cliques in the halls. Their voices lower when I walk by, and I can feel their eyes assessing me. I know I look like someone kicked the shit out of me … because they did—twice.
I make a point not to glance toward Ashton’s side of the hall when I finally reach the fifth floor. I enter my room and kick the door shut behind me. Inside, Brendan is laid up on my couch with a book resting open on his chest.
“Get out,” I say, dropping my backpack next to the door and kicking off my shoes. I bring the wooden box to the bed, not wanting him to notice it, and hide it beneath the mountain of throw pillows.
“I brought your pain meds,” he says. “Joey forgot to give them to you.” He reaches over his head and sets a medicine bottle on my desk.
I stare at it. “Are they really pain meds?”
He sits up, closing the book. “Why would you ask that?”
I study him. Wondering exactly how he knows Vic. And why he never told me. He made it seem like the first time he’d heard his name was when Joey and I said it in his room. Until I heard him talking to Vic on the phone and knew that wasn’t the case. Maybe he already knew Vic was his brother … he’s probably in the will too, after all.
If they’re my brothers, that means we have the same blood in our veins. That could explain why I’m so fucking angry all the time.
“Get out.”
“Yeah, you look like you could use some rest,” he answers coolly. Before he leaves, he turns back to me. “And, Lana, stay the fuck out of my room.”
Then he’s gone, and that boiling rage bubbles to the surface.
“Screw you!” I scream and throw every single one of my decorative pillows at the door despite the torrent of pain igniting my muscles. “Stay the fuck out of mine!” When my room looks like I blew it up with pillows, I sprawl across the bed and close my eyes in exhaustion.
A faint knock draws my attention.
“Lana?” The bathroom door cracks open. “Can I come in?”
“Whatever,” I grumble with my arm flung over my eyes.
“Your brother is a pompous ass,” Arden declares from somewhere near the couch. “But he does care about you, whether that helps you forgive him or not.”
“How do you know?” I ask, not moving. “You’ve been here all of a minute.”
“It’s a gift—or maybe a curse,” she says as if contemplating it.
A floral aroma fills the room. I raise my arm to peek and find her tea set displayed on a tray that’s placed on the coffee table. She sits on the couch to pour a cup.
Arden’s styled in a gorgeous pink kimono with white flowers. Her feet are bare. And her hair is gathered into a ponytail sticking straight up on the top of her head. Hot-pink lipstick is painted only in the center of her mouth like a geisha, and she’s drawn such dramatic black wings on her eyes, they look like they could take flight. She’s peculiar, but it suits her.
“Come, sit. This will help you heal.”
“Please don’t tell me that you hack into computer files too.” I cannot handle another person violating my life. I just can’t.
She chuckles. “No. Ashton told me what happened, after Lance told her.”
“Great,” I grumble.
Lance really does suck at knowing what to keep to himself.
I scoot off the bed and drag my feet to the couch. “I feel like someone stuffed me in a dryer and kept me in there for a day.”
“That would be very uncomfortable,” Arden ponders, her eyes angled toward the ceiling like she’s picturing it. “But it could be fun for a few minutes.”
Maybe it wasn’t my best analogy.
I lower onto the couch next to her and accept the cup of tea. In my gut, I trust Arden. And that’s all I have to go on most of the time anyway. Besides, it smells like a flower garden. I bring it up to my nose and inhale. But when I take a sip, I nearly gag. It doesn’t taste like it smells. It’s earthy and pungent, the stems and roots of the flowers rather than the buds. Maybe my intuition sucks.
“Sorry, but this is terrible,” I say, unable to relax my puckered face.
“Of course it is. It’s medicinal. But it will help, so drink it.”
With a finger on the bottom of the cup, she tips it back toward my lips. I comply but not happily.
Once I’ve forced the rest of it down, she takes the delicate china cup from me and places it on the tray. Then she stands, sets a salve on the table and picks up the tray. “Rub this on anything that hurts, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Lana.”
“Uh, goodnight, Arden,” I reply, perplexed by her sudden departure. I know I’m not the best company right now, but she was here maybe two minutes. “Thank you.”
I change and prepa
re for bed before inspecting the small container of ointment. “Might as well,” I declare in defeat, dabbing the clear petroleum-looking substance onto my aches. I’m yawning as I crawl under the covers, the throbbing in my head and the soreness in my muscles already subsiding. I have no idea what was in that tea or ointment, but I’d rather not touch the bottle of pills Brendan set on my desk.
I really don’t suspect him of tampering with my mother’s medicine. But I have no idea what he’s capable of or how he’s involved with Vic. He’s supposed to be on my side. But that’s naive. I’ve known since the second I met him, Brendan’s only on one side … his.
Before I leave for class the next morning, Arden leaves another cup of tea on the countertop. This one doesn’t taste like I’m swallowing lawn clippings, but it’s not much better. It has a spicy licorice flavor that clears out my sinuses. I have no idea why I’m trusting her. She could be giving me psychotropics for all I know. Except … I already notice a difference. The pain isn’t as intense, and I’m a little less edgy. So instead of feeling like I could burn the entire campus down in a single breath of fury, my anger smolders in my gut.
I get my meal to go and sit in a weird garden I discover by the languages building. It’s made up of large, spongy beds shaped like mushrooms. But to reach the top of them, you’re supposed to bounce on a trampoline pod—which I can’t. So I sit on the trampoline instead and use the mushroom as an umbrella. I think whoever designed this garden was on psychotropics.
I can easily imagine Ashton jumping around, landing with a plop on top of each colorful mushroom in their various shades of neon. I wonder if she’s found it yet. There’s this childlike wonder about her most of the time. She observes the world around her as if she’s in awe of it. But I know she’s also witnessed and experienced too much of its ugliness.
The smolder ignites into a flame at the thought of what she’s been through, and I’m an inferno again. My fist ricochets off the trampoline when I punch it. I have no control of my anger; it controls me. Feeding off the frustration, knowing Brendan’s playing with me. The homicidal rage I feel toward Vic. The disappointment and hurt that keeps my mother at arm’s length. Just sprinkle the betrayal of my best friends on top, and I’m an all-consuming fiery ball of fury.
The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew Page 21