RISE: THE PREQUEL NOVELLA TO THE SIN AND SECRETS COLLECTION

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RISE: THE PREQUEL NOVELLA TO THE SIN AND SECRETS COLLECTION Page 4

by Shanna Swenson


  Kieran shakes his head and sighs, “Damn. What a waste.”

  Because God forbid, he actually just wants to hang out with a girl, right? Unbelievable. “Seriously? I don’t even go to school there anymore, college boy, and even I know.” A thought occurs, and I suddenly realize I wasn’t using all my arsenal. “PS, y’all are nineteen now. They’re seventeen, with the exception of Hannah.” Release the nuke. “She’s fifteen.”

  Anger clouds over Luca’s expression while Kieran looks like he just drank month-old milk. “Kieran, what the fuck?”

  I look over my shoulder to see Lia’s reaction but she’s nowhere in sight. Pity she missed this. “Mmhmm. Now, I know you boneheads are probably spending your days at Georgia State, getting drunk off your asses and chasing skirts, but even you two morons can rub a couple of brain cells together and spell jailbait.”

  A loud smack rings out as Luca swats Kieran on the arm. “Dude, get rid of them!”

  “Okay, okay!” He tosses the towels onto the kitchen island and wipes his hand down his face. “This sucks.”

  I swear that boy’s libido is gonna be the death of him one day. “Had you been polite, I would’ve invited you to come swim with Lia and me. But you’ve always gotta be a dick or use yours to think with.”

  “Yeah,” he scoffs. “Like I want to spend my Saturday home from school swimming with my little sister and her married friend. Real boner-inducing there, Ev.”

  Gross. “Okay, so while I go vomit,” I comment, following it up with a fake gag, “You go take care of the unwelcome wagon out there. Then, you and your groin can make other plans.”

  “Whatever,” he scoffs, which makes me beam, knowing I’ve won the victory.

  “Have fun, boys,” I reply in sing-song, knowing Kieran hates it, and wave as I make my exit from the room. “Be sure to use the gate. Mom will kill you if they track grass through the house.”

  No sooner do I clear the door, I hear the guys chattering in hushed tones. “Man, when’d Everleigh get so sassy? I thought I was the only one with a mouthy sister.”

  “Hell if I know. Has to be that all-girls’ school they go to.”

  There’s a pause, followed by the squeaking of the patio doors.

  “Maybe it’s because she kicked your ass last year and knows she still can,” Luca quips as his voice trails off.

  “Shut it, asshole,” Kieran sneers. “Ladies, there’s been a change of plans...”

  A silly grin tightens my cheeks. When I took Kieran down for the first time last year, things definitely changed for us and between us. He doesn’t pick at me as much, but he’s still the same moron he always was.

  Maybe he’ll grow up one day...

  I hear some rustling from the direction of the den and realize that’s where Lia must have slipped off while I scolded our brothers. Passing through the long space, I pause when I notice my reflection walking alongside me. The antique glass with the ornately hand-carved frame has taunted me for years, calling out my imperfections with each pass by and making me rethink those late-night trips to the kitchen. It belonged to my mom’s parents who immigrated from Scotland, so asking for it to be taken down because I want to avoid the truth seems selfish.

  Braving a look, the comments of others run wild through my mind as I examine myself, piece by piece.

  Everleigh has such a pretty face. If only she’d lose the weight.

  Don’t worry, you’ll lose the baby fat soon.

  Are you sure it’s a good idea to eat that much ranch dressing with your wings?

  Geez, Evergreen. Save some food for the rest of us.

  That last one always earns Kieran a slap on the back of the head if Mom or Dad hear him, though. I think about the statuesque way Deirdre and the other girls in my dance class are made as I stare at my thicker physique, trying to find something to feel good about it, and come up empty-handed. My mom’s curvy genetics had passed down to me, but where she wears hers like vintage Chanel, mine comes off like a cheap knockoff. The emotional eating habits I adopted years ago began to stave off when I learned to channel those feelings into my self-defense training. Yet there’s still extra padding that just won’t budge. Maybe puberty will get its act together and settle down with the fluctuations going on in my body soon.

  Sure, I’ve slimmed down mostly from my chunkier, pre-pubescent days, but my figure has a long way to go before I’d feel comfortable letting a random guy look at me in a bathing suit, let alone naked. Or a certain gorgeous Italian guy you shouldn’t even be thinking about, right? It was definitely a plus when I decided to go to mine and Lia’s school. I didn’t want Lia to be alone, but it had its unforeseen perks for me as well. It’s been a safe haven in some ways for me, away from the ridicule of people like Deirdre and the realization that I had fallen for my best friend’s brother. Yet, where it gives me breathing room, it suffocates and cages in Lia.

  After one last critical look in the mirror, coupled with a heavy sigh, I take all my jiggly bits and pieces towards the den while our brothers disappoint their easy conquests for the day. No, heart. You ignore that twinge you feel when thinking about him with another girl. As I cross the threshold of the room, the sight of Lia on our well-loved leather sofa stills my stride in the door frame. She sits quietly in a chair, bare knees curled up with thin arms wrapped around them, lost in thought. A dry, floral one shoulder swimsuit frames her delicate figure. Dark hair falls to one side in a messy braid. She’s the picture of Italian beauty. Though, much like the women iconized in centuries-old paintings, Lia’s the portrait of a girl who no longer exists.

  A blank stare mars her flawless face—the same empty, blue-eyed stare she had when she found out she had to get married at sixteen to that chauvinistic dickface Giacomo. This is the shell of a girl whose dreams are quickly going up in flames. Sure, she tries to put on a brave face around others, but I know my friend. And in the quiet moments like this one, it’s like seeing a little bird realize there’s no escaping its gilded cage.

  “Do you remember that day?” She says quietly, motioning over her bare right shoulder, a picture of my family sat on top of the mantle. My mom had pictures of us all over the house, but that one was special.

  The memory floods my mind as joy and nostalgia washes over me. “Of course, I do,” I smile, noticing she’s now staring at it.

  Lia and Luca had joined us for our annual wilderness outing two years ago, a favorite pastime of the Greene family. Camping, fishing, and roasting marshmallows over an open fire—all familiar activities to my brother and me, all-new adventures for our sheltered friends.

  On our last day, we hiked to the top of Stone Mountain, where Dad had proposed to Mom. Although he had replaced her Claddagh ring with her wedding set, she still wore it on her right hand—a symbol that not only was he her true love, he was also her best friend. As Lia ooh-ed and ahh-ed and the boys fake-gagged at the story of how all the hoops Dad had to jump through to get my grandfather’s blessing, I silently wondered if I’d find a man one day who’d willingly fight that hard for me, just to call me his.

  Dad and Mom laughed at the boys and announced it was time for a family picture. We started to do the picture placement shuffle while Dad got his phone ready. Lia and Luca quietly stepped to the side to debate who was going to take it. My mom, in a nearly offended tone, told them it was a family selfie and they needed to pile in with us for it. They both gave each other a surprised look before jumping in and trying to figure out the best place to put themselves. It was no secret how demanding their father was of them—a fact both my parents knew and lamented—so they tried to include Lia and Luca as much as possible because they weren’t just the neighbors’ kids. They had become family too.

  After some quick maneuvering and squishing in, Dad took the shot. Mom’s long black hair blew at weird angles in the wind as she kissed my dad’s scruffy dark auburn cheek. Mine and Lia’s cheesy grins were smooshed where our cheeks met, our outside hips popped out and our dirty hands laced together. Kieran
unsurprisingly had to be the center of attention, so he wedged himself between Mom and Lia, his goofy face contorted with silliness under his favorite ball cap. I thought he had snuck in behind Kieran, but when we looked at the picture, I was surprised to see Luca leaned in behind me, his right hand barely touching my waist, and a genuine smile plastered on his tan face, dimples on full display. For a moment, he was just a boy who was thrilled to be included, not obligated, and his true joy was contagious.

  It wasn’t a perfect picture, but it was a perfect moment.

  Now, looking at the girl sitting in front of me, it’s hard to believe she and the happy-go-lucky girl in the picture are one and the same. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  Never taking her eyes from the picture, she replies. “You and Kieran are so lucky to have them as parents.”

  I can’t disagree with her. My brother and I are truly blessed to have parents who always encourage us. They never shy away from telling us how much they love us, and hugs and kisses are never withheld. The thought of disappointing either of them makes me sick to my stomach. They’d do anything in the world to protect us and I can honestly say, I’d do the same for any of my family—even my idiot brother, bless his stupid heart. A deep sense of loyalty was instilled in us from a young age when it came to family. Because honestly, when it comes down to it, family’s all you’ve got, whether by blood or by choice.

  Sadly, not every family works the same way... “Agreed, but that’s not what’s on your mind,” I retort, giving her a knowing look.

  She glances at me, offering a weak smile, and I immediately know I’m not going to like what she has to say. “Giacomo told me that I won’t be coming over as much once I get pregnant.”

  What. The. Hell. “Lia, you’re still only sixteen. Why on Earth do you have to get pregnant at all?”

  Her dark head shakes furiously, making her braid fall over her shoulder. “Why should I have a say in it? I didn’t get to choose who I married or when it happened.”

  Fury begins to bubble beneath the surface for her. “Because it’s your oven that will be baking that little bambino!” I huff.

  Her hollow expression breaks my heart. “Giacomo and my dad want me to get pregnant while I’m young—securing the lineage and all that…stuff.”

  “Do neither one of them care about your future?” I ask, even though I know the answer already.

  “This is my future, Ev.” The hurt in her voice and the acceptance of her fate makes me want to rip Giacomo and Mr. Giordano’s testicles from their bodies.

  My mouth flies open to give those selfish assholes both down the road, only to be interrupted by the doorbell. “Let me go see who it is.” If Kieran invited over any more childhood bullies or disease factories, so help me God…

  Making sure the towel around my body is secure, careful to hide my soft stomach and ample cleavage—or at least, what I can—I check the peephole to see who’s there. A blue cap obscures the person’s face, but the blue and white boxes with the red design in the middle are unmistakable.

  Mmmmmm, pizzzzzza.

  Self-loathing be damned… If Kieran didn’t order anchovies on these things, they’re officially mine and Lia’s as penance.

  Snatching the money, money I assume he left on the entry table for this glorious turn-of-events, I open the front door to receive our cheese-covered manna from Heaven, or Hot Rod’s Pizza Palace to be precise.

  The tall guy holding the boxes doesn’t hold his surprise back when he sees me. After a moment, he recovers, taking in my high ponytail and towel-wrapped body. He glances at my bare legs and feet, then back to my straps and cleavage, licking his lips and cocking his head to the side. “Working up an appetite?”

  That’s an odd statement. I look down at my attire. “I guess so.”

  “You’re Kieran’s little sister, aren’t you?”

  “Unfortunately.” He chuckles as I make a face. We both look exactly like our mom and each other, so it was sort of hard to deny. “Friend of his?”

  “You could say that.” I squint at him as he continues, “I don’t remember him mentioning you being such a babe, though.”

  Never been called a babe before. “H-how much do I owe you?” I try to ignore the skin prickles his praise brings. Sorry, dude. Not my type. No matter how cute he is with his surfer boy-like wavy hair under that ball cap and straight, pearly teeth, he isn’t the person I want to hear say those things to me.

  Yelp. Delusional and pathetic. Time for some pizza therapy.

  “That’ll be $31.35.”

  After counting the various bills to make sure there’s enough for a tip as well, we awkwardly start to exchange the boxes and cash, only my towel comes loose and starts to slip down my body. I try to catch it while juggling the boxes, but it still drops along with some of the money. Smooth. Real smooth, Ev. “Shoot. Sorry.”

  “Let me help you out,” he smiles, squatting down to pick everything up, but he only grabs my towel. He peers up at me, then glances up and down at my legs. “Looks like you were hiding all the good stuff.” He stands back to his full height and leans against the door frame with his left arm, holding my towel in his fist. “You know, I get off work at nine.” With his free hand, he catches the lower half of my high ponytail, now draping over my shoulder, and runs his fingers down to the ends. “Maybe I can swing back by later and we can work up an appetite together?” His fingers toy with the tips of my black strands, slightly brushing the skin near my décolletage. My skin crawls at his touch, making me recoil. “I love late night swims.” He winks—yes, winks—at me and smiles.

  Ah, one of those. Thanks, but no thanks, dude. “I don—” A strong arm locks around my stomach and reels me back into the entry, cutting off my reply. I almost stumble over my feet until Luca steadies me and the boxes, his face tight and flushed, before turning to the door. Where’d he come from?

  He bends over to pick up all the bills I dropped in the doorway, giving me a momentary view of his perfect ass—an ass I totally did not check out whatsoever—then hands them to the flirty pizza guy while snatching my towel away from his grasp.

  “She’s already got plans, Dorsecki. Fuck off.” The door slams shut, and Luca turns around, his dark brows knitted together as he takes in my now uncovered attire. He grabs the boxes with one arm and storms towards the kitchen, leaving me standing there with my mouth open.

  What in the world was that about? I follow, my anger growing with each step. “Excuse you,” I scold, pushing him in the back, which barely moves him.

  He sets the boxes on the island before he turns and intensely glares back at me. “I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘thank you,’ so you’re welcome.”

  “Why’d you just slam the door in his face?” I exclaim, pointing to the door.

  He stares at me with a blank expression, like I’m supposed to just understand. He puffs out a breath when I put my hands on my hips. “Because he was being a dick and coming onto you.”

  “So? I had it handled.”

  “Yeah, okay.” His insult cuts deep. Luca knows I’m more than capable of putting someone on the ground now. “Just drop it. The guy’s bad news,” he offers, turning towards the fridge.

  Just who does he think he is? A laugh escapes me, dripping with sarcasm. “I absolutely love how hypocritical you are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he mutters over the clanging of jars and containers.

  “For one, you wouldn’t even put your foot down when your parents married off your sister at sixteen. Don’t start trying to double down on the big brother garbage with me.” Yes, it’s unfair to say that considering the situation, but dammit, I’m infuriated. “For another, you—”

  The fridge door shuts hard, taking with it any sound except the clock on the wall ticking in rhythm with our breathing. He rounds the island and stalks towards me. “You know that’s not the same thing.”

  “I already have one overbearing sibling. I don’t need another,” I point out, poking
at him, our bodies now connected through this simple, electrifying touch. Somehow, the air around us feels charged and dangerous, but I can’t stop now. “Especially one who laid down on the job the first time.” His muscles contract and ripple under my finger, which is now embedded in the middle of his chest. Don’t get distracted. “And I have a hard time believing you’re trying to keep me out of trouble when you and Kieran invited over trouble with a capital T.”

  His head bows as he makes a funny sound. “Whatever, Ev. Whatever.” Our shoulders brush as he walks back towards the front of the house.

  I don’t think so. “Don’t act all innocent, Luca,” I call after him. “I know you were chomping at the bit to get in on the fun Kieran had planned today. You have no right to act that way when someone hits on me.”

  My nose meets his back when he comes to a halt in the entry where the den and the hallway to our bedrooms meet. He whips around and stands toe to toe with me, forcing me to look up at him. “I didn’t know he invited them over until I got here, okay? I thought it was just going to be us and maybe you all because Lia mentioned coming over. I even told him that before you came downstairs and ripped him a new one.”

  Swallowing hard, I try to keep my composure. “I bet,” I choke out.

  “Look…” A sudden seriousness overtakes his anger, followed by a deep exhale. “I’m not your brother, Everleigh, but I’d like to think I’m at least your friend. So, I will always look out for you, whether you want me to or not. Jerry Dorsecki is an asshole and a good girl like you doesn’t need to waste time on someone like him.”

  I tilt my head and smirk. “And how do you know I’m still a good girl?”

  A sardonic laugh escapes him. “You can pull all this bravado bullshit with Kieran, but I see through you, Everleigh.” His face draws close to mine, until orbs of green and gold with a touch of brown are all I can focus on. “I see you. I know who you really are deep down. Don’t ever forget that.” He grabs my hand and puts my towel, the towel he’s been holding onto since this whole exchange began, into it. Withdrawing his hand, he brushes ever so slightly against the outside of my left breast, a movement that makes us both still.

 

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