The Replacement: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (The Thorns of Rosewood Book 1)

by Cassie James

  I force a smile on my face as I pull the door open, and I’m not surprised to find Mom, Dad, and Stan all waiting there for me. Dad and my creator stand a little further back, hands in their pockets and smiles on their faces. Stan’s smile is the same bittersweet smile he’s given me the entire time, but Dad’s smile is something a little tighter, a little more grim.

  Jackie’s sharp intake of breath pulls my attention off of Roman, and I turn my full attention toward her. Her eyes are swimming with fresh tears as she reaches out for me with shaking hands. I glance at Stan one last time before allowing myself to be pulled into Mom’s arms.

  I am Piper Hawthorne’s replacement.

  2

  Tyler

  The first mile always sucks the most. It’s early afternoon, way too late in the day to be running—well, way too late to just be starting my workout, but to-ma-to, to-mah-to or what-fucking-ever. It’s the first day all summer I actually got to sleep in, now that freshman camp is over. The other guys get out of being there every day, but as captain I’m expected to be there to help weed out the weak. The freshman won’t play varsity this year—the last freshman to do that was me—but even our freshman team is exclusive. We cut more than half the guys that try out at the start of the summer, and by the end of the summer we dwindle it down to one strong, cohesive team.

  The whole process is a real pain in the ass, and I’m so glad this was the last fucking time I’ll be expected to do it. Next summer, I’ll be training with the UCLA team.

  I’ve already signed my commitment with them, and I know the scholarship they’re giving me is sweet. I can’t afford to slack off, even for one day. I’ll have to make up for sleeping in by squeezing in one more workout before dinner, which Mom will hate. She never complains, though. Soccer is the whole reason we moved to West Ex, California—so I could play with the best teams. And playing with the best teams means being the best.

  Something I keep forgetting it seems. This summer has dredged on, and I know I’ve let myself slip more than I can afford to. My college commitment might be signed, but shit happens. I know more than one guy that’s had his commitment fall through when he couldn’t keep his head on straight. I can’t afford to be distracted now.

  But fuck is hard to keep my head in the game when it feels like I’ve spent months struggling to catch my breath. It’s worst when I loop this particular path that I’m running today, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  I’ve been doing it since April, running this way as my own personal form of punishment. The houses pass by in a blur, none of them mattering to me except one. They’re nice houses. Bigger than the one we used to live in back in Vancouver years and years ago. The people in West Ex are known for big houses and even bigger personalities.

  When I turn onto Vista Drive, my feet slow automatically. It’s too hard not to let my eyes seek out the yellow door at the end of the block. There’s an ache in my chest that has nothing to do with exertion the closer I get.

  Just keep your head forward, Hamilton, I coach myself. And I almost have myself convinced to just keep going, not to turn and look up, looking for some sign of her watching me from her second-story window. God, she used to love teasing me. Giving me my own personal strip show as I passed her on my daily run. It’s so easy to imagine her back there, pulling her shirt over her head as she offers me a teasing smile.

  I can’t not look.

  My head turns, a flash of long brown hair catches my eye. My feet stall as my brain scrambles to process what the fuck it’s even seeing, and I stumble. It’s official. I’ve finally lost my goddamned mind and I’m hallucinating now. If I was pathetic before, amplify it by one thousand now.

  But there she fucking is, stepping out of Jackie Hawthorne’s Escalade. Maybe she’s a cousin or some shit that I didn’t know about, I try to rationalize.

  She turns to say something to Jackie, and that theory is smashed to pieces instantly. There’s no mistaking those eyes, not even from this distance. Piper Hawthorne. Back from the dead. I dig the heels of my hands into my thighs as I double over, struggling not to lose the protein shake I drank in a pinch this morning. I don’t want to look at her again, knowing something is very wrong with the scene playing out in front of me, but my self control is obviously fucking shot now.

  Jackie says something to Piper that makes her shoulder slump. That can’t be right. It’s like I’m stuck in the twilight zone watching them together. My Piper has confidence in spades. She keeps her shoulders squared and head held high—Queen of The Roses. She definitely doesn’t let her shoulders slump, and certainly not for her shrill mother, of all people. If anything, Jackie’s always been the one that cowed to Piper, not the other way around.

  Am I having a stroke? It’s the only explanation. There’s no conceivable way that that’s actually Piper following Jackie into their house. I was at her funeral just this past spring, mourning like a good boyfriend in the front row with the rest of The Thorns and The Roses. Watching as Jackie clutched Roman’s suit jacket, sobbing as the casket was lowered into the ground. It was sunny that day, and it felt like a betrayal. The weather should have matched my mood—somber and furious and fucking guilty.

  I’m so caught up in the memory—and still frozen from shock—so I don’t notice the Range Rover coming towards me until it stops right next to me.

  I force myself to stand, facing the vehicle with serious trepidation as the driver’s side window rolls down. Roman Hawthorne. He pushes his sunglasses up to the crown of his head so he can study me with nothing between us. I can see the same sympathy in his eyes that’s been there the last few run-ins we’ve had since we buried Piper.

  “We probably should have thought to warn you.” He swallows hard as he looks past me, towards the house his wife and maybe-dead daughter just disappeared into. “It was Jackie’s idea.”

  He falls quiet and I can’t help but ask, “Uh, what was?”

  “Piper. You just saw her didn’t you?” He points towards the house, frowning like maybe he misread the situation, but I nod yes. I saw her. I really saw her. “She’s a prototype, something they’re calling a companion AI. It’s supposed to help you cope with the loss of a loved one. I don’t…” he trails off, running a hand through his chestnut colored hair—the same color hair as his daughter. The same color hair as that… thing.

  “It’s not so bad having her around, really,” Roman’s still talking. “Sometimes it’s almost like having Piper back for real. And she’s helping Jackie out a lot, so I hope she’ll be good for all of you kids when school starts back.”

  “School?” my voice croaks.

  He nods as if he hasn’t just set my life on fire in the worst way. “Hope we’ll see you around again some, Tyler. The house has been quiet since…” He lets the sentence fall between us, both knowing what fills in the blank. The house has been quiet since Piper died. I wish I could tell him my whole damn life has been quiet since Piper died.

  He gives me one last nod before he rolls the window back up and whips his SUV into the driveway. I stare as the garage door opens and he disappears inside. Then, my eyes go back up to the second floor. To Piper’s window. I stand there for far longer than I should, long enough that I should be worried someone’s going to call the cops on me. I don’t know why the fuck I do it. Even if I see someone in that window, it won’t be her. It won’t be my Piper. I turn back to the road and take off at a full sprint, wanting to run until my body hurts so bad I can’t think about anything else. But even then, I can’t erase one lingering concern.

  How fucking dare they try to replace Piper with a goddamn robot?

  3

  Piper

  Things with Mom are getting better. She’s finally stopped tearing up every time I step into the room, and she only runs her hands over my shoulders once a day now, reassuring herself that I’m here and I’m real. Dad is still more reserved, and I try not to let it hurt my feelings. I have to remind myself that what we’re doing here, it’s not exactly
normal. At least he’s trying.

  “Ready for school, Pipes?” he asks as he meanders around the kitchen fixing himself a tumbler of coffee for the road. He stops, catching himself, as if he asked me out of habit rather than intent. Pipes. He used to call her—me—that sometimes.

  I know he doesn’t need me to, but I answer, “guess so,” anyway. It’s our morning thing. Apparently.

  I’ve gotten used to this. Some of it is familiar, the old routine, but some things are new. Mom breezes in. Like that, that’s new. Before, she would have already been at the office. She’s only home now because she took time off to help me… adjust. She’s dropping me off for my first day of school today. The first day of Piper’s senior year. I should be driving, but it turns out there isn’t really a program in place for companions wanting a driver’s license.

  “Come along, sweetheart. I’m sure your friends have missed you while you’ve been—” she pauses, then catches herself, “away for the summer.”

  She brushes past Dad, and even though I don’t think he meant for me to, I see him shoot her a worried look. For the first time, I feel a twinge of nerves. Won’t everyone be happy to see me? The way Mom was? I run back through the hundreds of pictures and videos of Piper with her friends. I force my nerves to settle. Of course they’ll be happy to see me.

  I grab the oversized purse that I use for school in lieu of a regular backpack. Mom turns at the garage door, her eyes looking me over like she’s making sure I’m still here. She does that a lot.

  I follow, stopping next to her so I can put a hand on her arm. “Thanks for taking me to school today,” I tell her. “It’s just like old times.” I want to reassure her, but the second her face falls I know I’ve made an error. I don’t have memories of how I used to get to school before I was old enough to drive. I knew from Piper’s aversion to public transportation that I couldn’t have taken the bus.

  I said something wrong, and now I’ve upset her. A weird feeling churns inside of me as I wait for her to say something.

  She blinks back what looks like tears. “The nanny used to drive you,” she tells me quietly, the words barely audible. She plasters a smile back on her face as she ushers me into the garage, but now she’s avoiding looking at me. I press my lips together, too afraid I might say something else to ruin this for her.

  We’re both quiet as Mom maneuvers her SUV out of the garage and then out of our gated community, nodding to the security guard as he opens the gates and waves us through. After a few minutes of driving in silence, her phone rings. Her body sags with relief as she picks up the call and starts answering questions about a property she’s selling.

  It doesn’t take long before she’s pulling into a guest parking space in front of a familiar building. The wood and glass are perfectly curated to look modern and clean, and something about that soothes me.

  Mom ends her call and shoots me an encouraging smile. “Have a good day, sweetheart.” I don’t move, even as her smile starts to slip. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re not going in with me?” I ask, even as I realize how ridiculous the question is. Of course she’s not going to walk me in. This is my senior year. Seniors don’t need their mommies to walk them into school. I’m the one that’s supposed to be comforting her, not the other way around. I pull the car door handle, letting the door open with an audible pop to break the renewed silence.

  Mom watches me with wary eyes as I climb out of her car. I shut the door carefully behind me, but just as I’m turning to part ways, she rolls the window down and leans across the console to call out to me, “Call if you need anything.”

  I smile and wave goodbye, hoping if I’m calm that it will offer her some kind of reassurance. Lucky for me, Jackie Hawthorne is proving to have an incredibly high bounce back rate. Nothing seems to faze her for long. Which is good, considering how much I seem to be messing up.

  Rosewood Academy calls to me like a beacon as I leave behind the awkwardness of my morning faux pas. A thrill shoots up my spine as I approach the front doors, one of the last people to arrive it looks like—based on the parking lot that’s otherwise devoid of students. This is my moment. This is what I’m here for. To give everyone back what they’ve lost.

  Something inside of me feels off as I take my first steps inside. There were voices talking over each other, but now the whole lobby falls into silence. From every direction, eyes turn to stare at me as I stand helplessly on display in front of the doors. I’m confused. No one is talking. No one looks happy to see me.

  Then, they’re all talking at once. I wince as my ears try to filter multiple voices through at once, causing my head to pound from the effort. Everyone is talking over each other again, but this time they’re all talking about me.

  “Tyler Hamilton saw it over the summer coming out of Piper’s house.”

  “Her parents replaced her with a robot. How fucking freaky is that?”

  “I hope I don’t have any classes with that thing.”

  “They could never replace the real Piper with a robot. What the hell were her parents even thinking?”

  “Do The Roses know yet?”

  The morning bell rings, breaking up the gawking crowd as my classmates turn towards their first period rooms. No one wants to be late, not even to gossip about me, apparently. I’m still frozen in place, baffled by the not-so-warm welcome.

  For a moment, I panic, wondering how I’m going to find my first period alone. The feeling doesn’t last long. I access my memory, where I’ve got multiple maps of the school stored. Thanks, Stan. I’ve got my schedule, too, but that’s thanks to Mom. She picked it up last week for me.

  My first class? Calculus.

  As the halls empty, I try to focus on channeling Piper. She wouldn’t let strange looks or whispers get to her. I force my chin up so my head is high as I walk the hall alone. If I’m going to comfort Piper’s friends, I need to show them I can be what they’re missing. I can be their Piper.

  I’m the last one to make it to class. Ms. Cooper, with her shrewd eyes and calculating smile, directs me toward a seat behind a familiar head of golden brown hair. He’s turned away from the door, staring at the cloudless cerulean sky just beyond the windows of the classroom. Tyler. Hamilton and Hawthorne. I say a silent thank you to Ms. Cooper for seating us alphabetically as I slide into the seat.

  “Hi, Tyler,” I whisper as Ms. Cooper turns back toward the whiteboard to jot down her expectations for us. I’m not sure I would have noticed had I not been watching him so closely, but his shoulders stiffen slightly. I try to ignore the sniggers from the few students closest to us.

  “Hey, Tyler,” I try again, and I watch as the muscles in his jaw tense. Ms. Cooper shoots a glare over her shoulder at the guy next to me who laughs outright at the fact that one of my best friends is blatantly ignoring me.

  I settle back in my seat, my chest heavy with the weight of embarrassment, and stare at the back of Tyler’s head. What the hell is wrong with him? We’ve been friends since middle school. We live in the same freaking neighborhood. I’ve probably eaten almost as many dinners at his house as I have my own. Of all my friends, I’ve always considered Tyler the closest.

  The memories I have from Piper’s social media pages all prove it. Even the actual pictures, the ones in her room, show how we’ve gotten closer and closer over the years. I roll my pencil between tense fingers, trying to figure this out. Why isn’t Tyler happy to see me?

  The class passes in a tense sort of awkwardness as I ignore the teacher’s words in favor of staring at the back of Tyler’s head. When the bell rings for the end of the period, I open my mouth to speak to him again, but he doesn’t give me the chance. Instead, he throws his bag over his shoulder and practically runs through the door. I scramble to gather my own things so I can follow after him.

  I push through the throng of people ambling toward the door. “Tyler!” I call as I rush into the hallway after him, but students flood the corridor, blocking my path to him.<
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  I sigh as frustration wells up inside of me. Are all of my friends going to ignore me like this? How the hell am I supposed to comfort them if they won’t even look at me? My hands shake as I head off in the opposite direction from where Tyler just disappeared. Frustration gives way to irritation as a shoulder knocks into me, sending my purse flying and its contents spilling out over the hallway floor.

  “Watch where you’re going, Silicunt,” a voice hisses at me as a guy stomps past. My eyes follow him. I’ve barely taken in his mahogany undercut when he turns to flash a sneer in my direction. His hazel eyes fill with absolute disgust as we make eye contact.

  Jude. My heart jumps as the crowd parts for him. My frazzled mind goes blank as I track his movement down the hall, just as I did for Tyler a minute ago.

  Someone grumbles, “Pick up your shit,” breaking the spell I seemed to be under. I crouch down and collect my things back up the best I can, though I think I end up leaving behind a stray pencil or two. I throw my purse over my shoulder and turn toward my second period. Jude fills my mind the entire way to my next class. Even as I take my seat, I can’t stop picturing how easily Jude walked away from me.

  Jude Alton, the king of this place, and the number one person no one wants as an enemy around here. He’s an actor, just like his famous mother. With his looks and connections, it’s not hard to imagine him being a mega movie star one day. Tyler might be classically handsome, hot in the guy-next-door kind of way, but Jude is hot in the kind of way that makes people stop and stare. Like the superstar he’s destined to someday be. Tyler’s popular, a Thorn as much as Jude, but it’s Jude that practically runs the school. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn his ire, but I’m definitely going to need to address it sooner rather than later.