She probably thought much worse than what happened to me actually happened.
Sexual assault. Human trafficking. Death.
My smile feels like broken glass, but I keep it in place anyway. The cost really is rising exponentially, each time I have to fake it. Eventually, the dam of my emotions is going to break and I’ll be flooded and drowned with them, choking on my own pain.
I know Tess isn’t meaning to be sinister. Hell, it probably hasn’t even occurred to her that I might celebrate my birthday on a different day. On a dead kid’s birthday? I wonder, thinking about what Parrish told me about Saffron and her lost baby.
Whatever compassion and empathy I feel toward her, I have to redirect toward Tess.
I am Tess’ lost baby.
“We had breakfast delivered,” she says as my eyes stray past her eager expression to Parrish’s. He may as well be carved of stone for all that he’s giving me this morning. His hair is mussed up, but not the careful mussing of a teenage boy who’s in love with his mirror. No, he’s very clearly just gotten up as well.
Our eyes meet. We kissed last night. The whole school thinks we’re dating. Well, the whole school thinks I’m dating both Parrish and Lumen. At the same time. The first day at Whitehall should be fun.
“Sounds great. I’ll be down in a minute,” I tell her as she pauses, her gaze flicking to one side before coming to land back on me again. She doesn’t look like a super wealthy bestseller right now. Instead, it’s quite obvious she had me young. Tess Vanguard née Patterson barely looks old enough to be my mother. Instead, she looks decades younger than her thirty-four years.
But just like Parrish, that instance of vulnerability fades in the span of a single blink and Tess is smiling confidently again, like she’s got a secret she just can’t wait to share.
“Here,” she hands me a card, and then pauses, curling her hand around mine in a rare gesture of affection. Other than the initial hug and kisses she gave me when we met for the first time, this is the most we’ve ever touched. I look down at our hands, remembering two birthdays ago when Saffron cupped the side of my face, tears brimming in her eyes, and put our foreheads together. I felt so loved then. Even though she wasn’t around much, when she was, she didn’t hesitate to show affection. Was it all a lie then? Was I just a stand-in for a baby she missed too much to face reality? “Don’t open it yet. Tonight.”
Tess withdraws her hand and then glances over at her stepson with a long-suffering sigh.
“You do own clothes, do you not?” she asks him, but he ignores her, waiting until her head disappears from sight down the staircase. His attention shifts to me. I haven’t moved yet. Instead, I’m standing there clutching those goddamn balloons in my hand, the card burning my opposite palm as I squeeze it tightly enough to wrinkle the pink envelope. The question is: will the card be addressed to Dakota? Or to Mia? And who, exactly, is it that I am?
“When’s your real birthday?” Parrish asks, surprising me. I stare at him, rooted to the spot by withered vines of emotion. I don’t want to feel so … god, so fucking sad. Check your privilege, Dakota, I tell myself, and I try. I do. This is a very nice house in a very nice neighborhood, and Chasm was right: Tess loves me in a way that I barely understand. So why do I feel so listless and empty?
“October twenty-fourth,” I breathe, trying to fight back the tears. Parrish won’t understand. Or, even if he does, he won’t care. I’m not sure I can take his cruelty right now. As if he can sense this somehow, he says nothing, turning and heading back into his room.
He closes the door behind him as I retreat into my own room, heeling the door shut and then leaning my head back against it. Closing my eyes, I focus on taking deep breaths before setting the cluster of bells and plastic shapes that weigh down the balloons on my nightstand. Wrenching the drawer open, I start to toss the envelope inside when I notice a small box that wasn’t there before.
Huh.
Is that why my door was unlocked last night? Did Tess come in here and leave something for me? If so, she didn’t mention the fact that I was missing from my room or ask where I’d been.
There’s a bow on the box, and a small card tumbles out when I slide the lid off.
My beautiful daughter. Patience is key to everything. Happy birthday.
Inside the box is a key. A big, fat skeleton key that smells a bit like blood. It must be made of iron, I think as I heft the item in my palm and frown. What is up with Tess and her secret gifts? First, the metal heart pin. Then the card that she doesn’t want me to open in front of anyone—least of all her, apparently. And now this?
With a small sigh, I tuck the key back in the box and return it to the nightstand drawer. Whatever gift this goes to, I’m clearly meant to wait for it.
Throwing on a white midriff sweater and some old Hot Topic pants that Maxine passed down to me after she left her so called ‘eGirl phase’, I open my door at the same moment that Parrish does. He looks me over with a quick flick of his brown eyes, attention resting on the double pair of navel piercings in my bellybutton. I’ve got silver rings in both the top and bottom, dressed with opals. Because, you know, opal is the birthstone for October.
“Nice metal,” he says, lifting his gaze back up to my face. “Got anything else?”
His question takes me back a bit, almost as much as the rare praise that preceded it.
“You mean, like in my nipples or something?” I choke out with a laugh, but Parrish doesn’t laugh with me. Instead, he maintains that heavy stare of his. And holy hell, does it feel like it weighs a million pounds.
“Or anywhere else,” he adds, but it’s not a question. My cheeks heat as he holds out a hand and very dryly adds, “after you, un-birthday girl.”
The reference to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland catches me even more off-guard than his supposed reference to pierced genitals or whatever. I accept his invitation into the hallway which is easily wide enough for us to walk abreast. So we do.
Please have been too drunk last night to remember that we’re supposedly dating and that we kissed and—well, everything else. I pick some god at random—Anubis, just because—and pray to him that Parrish really doesn’t recall a damn thing. Gross. Why did I even do that? Who kisses their own stepbrother? Only in pervy romance novels. Not that I’m judging. I happen to like pervy romance novels (just not stepbrother ones). I also don’t think Tess would appreciate it if Parrish and I …
He lets me go down the stairs ahead of him, pulling out his phone as usual and zoning into it. I’m not surprised to see Chasm waiting just outside the entrance to the living room. He smirks at me, but I don’t have the energy to smirk back.
“You were dynamite at the party last night, Little Sister,” he tells me, and I sigh, knocking my shoulder into his as I pass by. He lets out a little whistle, but doesn’t pursue me, hanging back to chat with Parrish while I head through the living room toward the dining area with a solid lump of dread in my stomach.
Breakfast is, as promised, delivered. Catered, more like. There’s a bountiful spread atop the table, one that Ben and the twins have already dug into. Kimber is sipping a coffee and zoning into her phone with one earbud while Paul carries on a low conversation on his own phone.
Happy birthday to me.
My heart begins to pound as I think about my most recent birthday back home. Grandpa made biscuits and gravy with bacon grease, the way he always does. Grandma picked fresh lavender from her greenhouse herb garden and made lavender-lemonade from scratch. We sat at the old, worn wood table in the dining room while my grandparents regaled me with all the crazy stories they have from the time they owned their own pizza parlor.
My big gift this year was Maxine’s surprise arrival, bursting through the front door with a new hoodie and a phone case wrapped in newspaper, a hug, and a smile.
Only Tess looks my way when I come in.
“Take a seat,” she says, patting the empty chair between her and Ben. I happily accept; my younger sib
lings are the only parts of my new life that I like thus far. My smile remains pasted in place as I stare at the catered scrambled eggs and gourmet sausages, the pancakes under a glass lid. Culture shock hits once again, but I blink my way through it, relieved when Chasm and Parrish take their seats across from me.
Kimber turns neon red as Chas slides into the seat beside hers, tossing her hair and giving him an award-winning smile that he ignores. Best friend’s baby sister isn’t usually a romantic role that works out in anything but a rom-com.
“How old are you today?” Chas asks casually, parking his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. His admittedly pretty hair falls across his forehead, the lightning bolt of yellow color in it catching my attention. I need to find out who does his hair. I’ve always done my own, but if Tess is willing to give me money to splurge on anything, it’d be that. I’d love to get some cool, crazy design put into my own hair.
“Sixteen,” I reply dryly, hating him because he knows damn well how old I’m supposed to be. What a dick move. “You turned twelve on your last birthday, right?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Because you sure act your age.”
Chasm laughs at me, Parrish remains as stoic and uninterested as usual, while Kimber glares daggers at me from across the table. Paul actually cringes and covers his phone with his hand, mouthing be right back to Tess before disappearing out to the balcony and closing the glass doors behind him.
“Mi—” Tess starts to scold me, changing tactics at the last second. She exhales sharply, and I want to scream. How hard is it to just call me by the name that I grew up with? “Dakota.”
My fingers twitch under the table, digging into my upper thighs and scraping at the zippered pockets. Paul comes back in a moment later and takes his spot at the head of the table. It bothers me a little bit, that he always sits there. I smell patriarchy. Shit, I spot patriarchy as his eyes flick over to my half-shirt with the characters from Food Wars on it and his mouth twitches with disapproval.
“Do you believe that clothing can dictate the way others perceive you?” he asks rhetorically, and the stink of judgment becomes almost unbearable. I brace myself for ridicule, snatching up a spoon and slopping scrambled eggs onto it. They’re sort of … different than I’m used to, runnier.
“This restaurant,” Tess interjects, trying to distract her husband, “P’tit Dej’, makes their scrambled eggs with fresh cream.”
“Back home, we take eggs from the coop and scramble them with salt and pepper,” I say, once again before I can stop myself. Chasm snorts, Parrish stops buttering his toast to look up at me, and Kimber makes a huffing sound that has me half-ready to take one of the fine China teacups off the table so I can chuck it at her.
“That must be nice,” Tess says primly, her mouth pinching into a thin line. “To have fresh eggs every day.” I notice her attention is still on Paul. With a huff that reminds me of Kimber, and a grumble under his breath, Paul returns his focus to his phone.
“It was nice,” I say, knowing that Chas and Parrish are still watching me. Chasm has his phone out, but he isn’t looking at it. “Actually, we had eggs when we celebrated my birthday on October twenty-fourth.”
There’s a long, heavy pause that follows, and I feel suddenly like the most ungrateful brat there is. I’m not allowed to be upset when there are two families fighting over me, two families that both want and love me. I’m just … not.
The thing is, the heart doesn’t always see reason; emotions don’t have to make sense.
“You celebrated your birthday on October twenty-fourth?” Tess asks, her voice strained and tense. She’s got a full face of makeup on now, hair coiffed, a short-sleeved suit jacket over a red blouse. Very professional, very pretty. I preferred the way she looked when she first knocked on my door.
“Since before I can remember,” is how I respond, knowing that I’ve bungled this whole morning.
Silence follows, broken only by the twins as they start to bicker over the last piece of bacon. I’d give anything to spend the day with just them and Ben.
“Did you know that your real birthday was today?” Tess asks, and my savior comes, strangely enough, in the form of Parrish. Although I’m not entirely sure he knows he’s taking the heat off of me.
“Does it matter?” he asks, setting his toast on his plate without even taking a bite. Tess glances over at him and he shrugs. Even Chasm is glancing his way now, like he isn’t sure where his best friend is going with this. “You should just give her the gift now, so we can all move on with our day.”
Rather than chastise him, Tess glances over at me, at the uneaten portion of eggs on my plate. Her cheeks are as red as mine were when Parrish kissed me last night. She’s embarrassed. Maybe she should be, I don’t know, but I feel suddenly bad about it.
“It didn’t occur to me that …” she starts, and then pauses, looking over at me like she’s never seen me before, like she has no idea who I am. And she doesn’t, really, does she? She won’t unless she makes more of an effort to get to know me instead of just treating me like the daughter she lost all those years ago.
“I wouldn’t mind having two birthdays,” I offer up, trying to smooth my way through a conversation that I derailed in the first place.
Tess smiles but doesn’t answer, and we suffer through a mostly silent meal.
Afterward, Tess and Paul lead the way to the garage, pausing just in front of the door to offer me up another key. This time, however, it isn’t an iron skeleton key that smells vaguely of blood. No, this is a shiny black key fob with chrome accents. The BMW logo takes up the center of the device.
I look up to find Tess doing her best to suppress a grin. It’s a bit faded at the edges, but it’s there.
“Happy birthday,” she tells me, and then she pushes open the door to the garage, revealing a white convertible with a giant bow on the hood.
She’s gotten you a sportscar for your birthday, I realize, my hands beginning to shake.
“You’re still grounded for the rest of the week, so Paul or I will be taking you and Parrish to school, but after that …” Tess trails off, waiting for my reaction. She and Paul exchange a brief look over my head.
Be happy, Dakota. Be happy.
“It’s beautiful, thank you so much,” I tell them, trying to shake off this strange sense of foreboding. Like, if I accept this car, it’ll bind me to this place and I’ll never be allowed to leave. It’s like a fairy offering, some fancy delicacy held out by a suave but unsavory forest spirit. If I take a bite, that’s it: I’ll be trapped for eternity.
“Also,” Paul begins, and I glance his direction to find him smiling at me. He looks like a Ken Doll, to be quite frank, a personality-free piece of plastic. “We’ve decided that you can choose one surgery to have during summer break.”
The key fob nearly falls from my hand as I stare at him, and Kimber makes a noise of protest from the direction of the living room.
“So freaking unfair,” she grumbles as I struggle to grasp what my new stepfather has just said.
“I’ll be performing the surgery myself,” he continues proudly, as if this is the greatest honor that could ever be bestowed upon another human being. All I want suddenly is to run far, far away, until I fall into the sea and its salty arms sweep me away. “If you want to save it until after graduation, you can do that as well. We made the same deal with Kimber, one surgery before junior year or …”
His voice fades away as I begin to sway. Things only get worse from there as his next words filter back through my consciousness.
“With all this media attention, you could really run with having any sort of career you wanted. Add in the right procedures, and the world really is your oyster. At your age, I’d recommend a rhinoplasty, as the nose is nearly finished growing—”
My brain obscures the rest of Paul’s words as the BMW key weighs on my hand like a dumbbell. I feel so heavy all of a sudden. Heavy and disoriented. Frankly, I’d rather be back at the
party, kissing Parrish in front of all my new classmates.
“I remembered you saying you didn’t like your nose,” Tess tells me, touching a finger to her own. “I was bullied for my nose in high school, too, and I just thought—” She stops talking, as if she’s just realized what the look on my face might mean.
“The car is fantastic,” I say. I mean, my words say that, but my voice is this distant, quiet thing that I barely recognize. “I don’t know how to drive though.”
“Oh, I’d be happy to sign you up for some driving lessons,” Tess says with another brilliant smile. “Wouldn’t that be fun? You could get your license and drive yourself to school?”
Drive myself back to New York state more like, I think, remembering the deal I made with Grandma Carmen. If I came home with straight As first semester of sophomore year, she’d teach me how to drive and let me have Saffron’s old Kia Rio. I’d already plastered the bumper with too many stickers to count and hung a bunch of shit from the rearview mirror. I was ready. I got the grades.
Then I got spirited away.
“Sounds great, thank you,” I tell her, still struggling to control my disappointment. “I think I ate too much. Is it okay if I go upstairs and lie down?”
Without waiting for an answer, I turn and head for the stairs. Parrish is lounging against the wall near the entrance to the living room. For the briefest of seconds, our eyes meet, but I’m too numb to process the expression on his face.
Instead, I turn away and make my exit before either Paul or Tess can stop me.
The BMW’s key fob is clutched so tightly in my hand that it leaves a mark that doesn’t go away for hours. The one on my heart, well, that one lasts much, much longer.
Eventually, I get the courage to open the nightstand drawer, the bright pink envelope—and the box with the skeleton key—staring back at me. Without bothering to open the card, I take both items to the trash can in my bathroom, chuck them in, and close the lid.
Stolen Crush Page 15