“How could he forget you, Fairy Lights?” I slap on a smile. “But, for manners’ sake: Juniper, Theo. Theo, Juniper. You know her best as the girl who kissed my father, then stole a few thousand bucks for good measure.”
Theo’s stare bounces between us. “Uh...right,” he says slowly, while Juniper tries to mentally melt my face. “Good to see you again.”
I barrel past him to the stairs. “Don’t lie to the poor girl, dude.”
My favorite room is waiting for me, same as every year. The two full walls of glass overlooking the bay have been Windexed to perfection; the bed is made up like a Macy’s commercial. First thing I do is mess it all up by throwing my bag into the center, then throwing myself.
I stay there until Theo comes upstairs, alone, and flips on the lights. “She’s gone.”
“Gone, gone?” I sit straight up. “She’d better not be. We’ve got a deal.”
“She told me,” he nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But no, she’s not gone—just back outside. It’s safe for you to come out now.”
“Fuck off, Theo. I’m not afraid of her. She just pisses me off more than anyone else on this planet, that’s all.”
“Then why’d you agree to her whole ‘balance’ thing?”
“What other choice did I have, man? Had to get here, somehow.”
“So you’re really gonna leave her out in the car like that,” he deadpans.
“It’s not like she’s a dog in the backseat of a Toyota, all right? Relax.” I get up and shut off the lights, following him back downstairs to the living room. “It’s basically a house on wheels. She’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, dude. Still seems mean, if you ask me.”
“Didn’t.”
Wordlessly, we each grab an Xbox controller, settle into the massive couch, and start a game. We play until one a.m. and catch up. Even though I’m usually driving this time of night, I’m suddenly exhausted when I check the clock. Theo boos at me when I tell him I’m turning in.
“Wes will be here tomorrow,” I remind him, cracking my back against one of his dad’s bookshelves. It’s loaded with real animal skulls; Uncle Gil used to study zoology, before the call of the wild got drowned in the call of commercial real estate.
I steady them with my hands when I step back. The way they rattle is the creepiest part of all.
“You two insomniacs can play video games all night and sleep till noon every damn day,” I add, “just like last year. And the year before that. If you sleep at all, of course.”
“Eh, not so sure about that,” Theo sighs. “Wes said he’s bringing someone. I’m sure he’ll be running on their schedule.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t say. Just gave me the heads-up.”
Guess Wes has better manners than me, which is really saying something. We’ve both got anger issues and less than stellar people skills.
When it comes to who’s the biggest asshole, however, it’s no contest. I was born to win. Wes’s outbursts just seem worse because they get splattered across the map by paparazzi.
Speak of the devil: Theo pulls up a website on his phone and waves it at me. “Maybe he’s bringing Hurley.”
“Yeah, right,” I laugh. But as soon as I see the photos, I stop. It’s Wes with Clara Hurley, half of the beauty blogging duo he can’t stand (along with most people on this earth), dining with our aunt at some fancy New York restaurant. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Looks serious, if he introduced her to his mom.” Theo pulls his phone back to scroll some more.
“Nah, it’s gotta be something else. Wes would never date either of the Hurleys.”
“Thin line between love and hate,” he mutters, without looking up. I roll my eyes and give a sharp goodnight as I go.
When I’m halfway up the staircase, I hear him call, “You sure you don’t want to invite her in?”
From here, I can see into the dining room no one ever uses. There’s a window at the far end, where I parked the Transit. Her lights are out.
I keep climbing and ignore his question. We both already know the answer.
Fifteen
“Holy shit. It’s, like, ten-thousand degrees in here.”
I peel myself off the floor of the Transit, sweat dripping as I peer over the bed at Van. He’s rummaging through the back storage compartments. I don’t know what time it is, but the sky is still deep bluish-black behind him.
“That’s why I’m sleeping on the floor. And why I have the doors open: to make a cross-breeze. The air conditioner’s acting up.”
His eyes flash to mine. “Nice try.”
“Get over yourself, Van. If I wanted to sleep in the house that badly, I’d just take the room Theo offered.”
“Theo wouldn’t offer you shit.”
I can’t blame him for not believing this. I was shocked when, after Van stormed upstairs like a preteen throwing a fit, Theo invited me inside and said there were plenty of beds.
Tempting as this was, I declined. Mostly to save myself the drama whenever Van discovered me invading his vacation—but partially out of respect for his wishes.
He wouldn’t believe that, either.
“What’s all this water back here?” Splashes fill the air as Van stomps and motions to the ground. I climb on the bed and hang my head over the edge to look: a large puddle glimmers under his feet.
“Crap, I knew it was leaking.” Without thinking, I heft myself over, joining him outside. My bare knees and palms slosh through the puddle as I squint under the vehicle. “Yeah, it’s from the water tank. I bet it’s cracked.”
When I stand and wilt against the bumper, defeated, I can’t make sense of Van’s stare...until I remember I was sleeping in a sports bra and boy-short panties to combat the heat.
I scramble inside and get some real clothes on, calling, “Why are you out here at”—my hand slaps my phone—“1:22 in the morning?”
It takes him a minute to answer. “I left my charging block.”
Great: the one I’m currently using, since I can’t find mine. It’s been missing since Van “moved in,” but I’m trying not to jump to conclusions...even if I’m also suddenly missing a few other things, too.
I wouldn’t put petty theft past Van in theory—his own brand of karmic balance, meant more to anger me than to actually even the score—but in practice? I can’t see him doing that.
Or maybe you just don’t want to.
“Here.” I hand it to him as he comes around to the side door.
Instead of thanking me, he nods and draws his lips into a line, arms braced on either side of the doorway. “You swear to whatever deity you believe in this air conditioner’s not working?”
The only thing I roll harder than my eyes is myself, towards the kitchen—one-hundred and eighty degrees away from him. “Yes. But like I said, if I wanted a room, I’d use one. Don’t worry about me.”
“You can’t sleep out here in this heat,” he says flatly.
“I’ve slept in worse.”
“Come on. You’re really going to sweat to death just to get back at me?”
“Believe it or not, my decision’s got nothing to do with you. I like it out here.”
“Bet you won’t be saying that when the sun comes up.”
I roll back and blink at him. He’s right. But I’m not going to admit it.
“Go. Enjoy your vacation.” I nod to the darkened window behind him. “We both know you don’t want me in that house.”
For a second, he seemed to forget this: that I’m right where he wants me. Close enough to use, far enough to hate.
But now that I’ve reminded him, he nods and shifts his jaw, staring at his feet.
No: staring at the water tank puddle, now spreading all the way to the ornamental grasses along the driveway.
“Last chance,” he says, and looks up impatiently.
I want to. It’s miserable out here.
But accepting even this from him—a tiny, last-ditch effort
at basic human decency—would be too dangerous. I’ll get caught up in it, just like I did the last two days.
Then what? I’m at his mercy. Easily blindsided, whenever his hatred explodes again.
Refuse to play his game, I remind myself.
So I do the one thing I can think of that will make him leave: I start undressing again.
“Christ, Juniper,” he sighs, shaking his head and leaving me alone in the darkness.
* * *
By morning, my water tank is completely empty. I stretch, dress, and haul my dehydrated carcass to the backyard.
It’s not really a yard: the enormous deck seems to flood the place, towering overhead as I climb the hill to a set of concrete steps. When I reach the top, I’m greeted by too much to process.
First, there’s the vivid landscape surrounding the bay below, and the shimmering water of the bay itself. I shut my eyes in the breeze a moment, so happy to feel some cool air.
An infinity pool rests at the far edge of the deck, just as gorgeous as the water it overlooks. Concrete walls with benches skirt the other side, near the house; a fire pit sits in front of several enormous sliding doors.
One by one, the sections swivel open like a glass accordion, and Theo appears.
“Morning,” he calls.
“Good morning.” I walk closer and sweep my hand at our surroundings. “This is amazing.”
“It’s all right,” he smiles, handing me a mug of coffee.
Actually, it’s a real latte. Foam and everything.
“Come in, get something to eat. You can shower, too, if you want. I figured your camper thing is probably missing one.”
“Wow...thank you.” His kindness is beyond confusing, but I find myself basking in it like I did in the cool bay breeze.
“I do have a shower setup,” I explain, once we’re in the kitchen (also modern, massive, and breathtaking), eating Toaster Strudel at the island, “but my water tank is cracked. Is it okay if I order a new one to this address? And a new air conditioner part, possibly. I’m not sure yet.”
“Yeah, of course. Whatever you need.” He studies me while he chews. “So I take it you’ll be staying in the house, after all?”
My smile flattens, along with my good mood. I pick at a glob of icing on my plate. “Doesn’t seem like the smartest idea, given how your cousin feels towards me.”
“It’s not Van’s house, it’s mine.” Theo sips his espresso and shrugs. “But I get it. You’re on his shit list, so it’s easier to stay out of his way. I’m just saying, if you’d rather not be miserable all week—my door’s open.”
“It would be nice to shower, maybe.” And chug about fifty of the little Perriers in the beverage fridge behind him. And dive, fully clothed, into that infinity pool.
“Then go shower. Ignore Van.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. “Why are you being nice to me, Theo?” When his eyes snap from his plate to my face, I force myself to say the rest. “You’ve heard everything I did to him. You’ve heard what a horrible person I am.”
He laughs halfway through a yawn. “A horrible person wouldn’t have volunteered to haul that asshole around the country. You’ve got the patience of a saint.”
“And the track record of a thief.”
We’re quiet. Theo doesn’t refute this, not that I expected him to. It’s a simple fact.
I don’t like it, but it’s true. This family’s last impression of me wasn’t flattering, and I’ve got only myself to blame for that.
“Look, I’d do anything for Van,” Theo says seriously, “no questions asked. All he’d have to do is say the word.”
I nod. I learned this when Van’s cousins visited the ranch that summer: they acted more like brothers, or best friends who just happened to be related.
“Except,” he goes on, shoving his plate away, “treating a girl like shit because of something she did years ago, when she’s clearly trying to make up for it now.”
I think I could weep with gratitude, just hearing another person acknowledge my efforts. I settle on gratefully sipping the latte he made me. I’m too dehydrated for tears.
“Well...thank you. And I apologize in advance for the wrath you’ll incur from being nice to me. We both know Van won’t be happy about it.”
“Van can suck my dick,” Theo sneers, and gets up to check on the bacon he slid into the oven.
I laugh at this, but not because of the insult itself—just the fact that, until he said it, I’d almost forgotten I was talking to a Durham.
“About time, you dumb fuck!”
“Only five hours late, too. You have to double-back for some Midol?”
Theo and I crack up, taking turns swigging from the vodka bottle and throwing colorful language down to the driveway. The balcony we’re on is attached to Uncle Gil’s bedroom, so we never use it—except for exactly this purpose: heckling Wes the second he arrives.
As soon as the passenger door of his rental car opens, our brains go blank.
“Damn, he really did bring Hurley,” I whisper, fumbling over the chaise. Theo shoves me inside.
“Told you they’re dating. Why else would he have introduced her to Aunt Billie? You saw the photos, man.”
“Yeah,” I snort, “on fucking New Set. Hardly a reliable source of information.” So much bullshit has been spewed and spun about Wes over the years, it’s easier to assume every article is a lie. “I’ll ask him what the deal is.”
A coughing fit hits me, even nastier than the one that got me this morning, when Theo woke me up by slapping a piece of bacon across my face. The only reason he’s still alive is because he handed me coffee immediately afterwards.
While I hack up a lung, Theo lingers in the doorway. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” I croak. I get out my inhaler and wave it at him. “Go greet them. Be a good little host. I’ll catch up.”
He hesitates, then leaves. I dose myself a few times before starting for the door.
Instantly, I freeze. Theo’s still up here.
And he’s hugging Juniper.
“No, really, thank you,” she’s whispering.
I press myself to the wall and silence the coughs in my chest. I don’t care if it kills me, I’m definitely listening to this.
“I feel so much better. It’s nice to get treated...well. Nice.”
She laughs, all bubbly and sunny, while Theo smiles and draws back from the hug. He starts downstairs as she adds something I can’t make out.
“Don’t worry about Van,” Theo says quietly. “You need more, you know where to find me.”
What. The. Fuck.
Theo’s already downstairs when I barrel out into the hall. Juniper jumps at the noise; I slammed the door hard enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.
“Van,” she gasps.
“Why the frightened little deer eyes, Fairy Lights?” I plaster on a smile I know must scare her even more than the door slam.
Maybe even more than the way I grab her hip and steer her to the nearest wall.
“After all,” I add, putting my face right in hers, “Theo told you not to worry about me.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you screwing around with my cousin.”
The fear that was in her face slips away. All that’s left is rage.
And call me crazy…but I could swear she’s got just as much as me.
“I’m only going to say this once, Van, so listen well.” Her back goes straight, shoulders squared. “You’re wrong about me.”
My laugh flutters the ends of her hair.
“No, I’m not. I know exactly what you are. You’re still the girl who uses men however she wants. You slap on that innocent smile, take what you need, and then you bail.”
I angle myself closer, hips pressed into her body, arms on either side of her head. She swallows. I hate how much I love it.
“But know this: you can fuck your way up one side of my family tree a
nd blow your way down the other,” I breathe, “and you’ll still never get me.”
Juniper lifts her chin, meeting my stare. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t want you.”
Behind us, someone clears their throat.
I push off from the wall. Juniper performs her little shrinking act.
Wes raises his eyebrows at both of us and holds up the luggage in his hands as he passes. “Don’t mind me.”
The second he’s gone, Juniper bolts. I don’t bother figuring out where. As long as it’s not back into Theo’s arms, I don’t give a fuck.
Wes gets me in a headlock when I step into his room. Since my blood pressure is still sky-high, I give up immediately. The fact I’m coughing helps; he lets me go so I can hit my inhaler.
We chat for a while, during which I learn he is, in fact, dating Clara. I don’t get it, given all the shit he’s talked about the Hurley twins for years, but I never fully understood his problem with them in the first place. Compared to my issues with Juniper, all his complaints sounded like petty celebrity whining.
“And this is your room.” Theo and Clara step inside. From what I heard as they came upstairs, he was giving her a tour of the house. I wonder when his good-host batteries will burn out and leave us with Antisocial Theo. Experience says another twenty-four hours, max.
The second he’s close enough to punch, I have to devote all my energy to not doing it. Whether he fucked Juniper or not—damn, I hope not—is none of my concern.
But it feels like it is. And I don’t like that one bit.
“You’re Van Andreas.” Clara steps in front of Theo and stares at me. “Oh, my God, I didn’t even realize!”
I smile and shake her hand, noticing how Wes now looks like he’s devoting all his energy to not punching me.
The hell if I know why. Clara’s cute, but in that Zooey Deschanel way I’d never go for: quirky on the verge of strange. Maybe it’s a twin thing.
And maybe outrageous jealousy is a Durham thing, because the second my hand touches hers, Wes puts his arm around her waist. Damn, we have problems.
The four of us head downstairs. In the hall, I sweep my eyes back and forth for Juniper, but there’s no sign of her.
Seven Sins: Durham Boys, Book 2 Page 11