“Four. Three upstairs and my parents are downstairs on the opposite side of the house.”
“It’s really nice.”
I look at my house as if I’ve never seen it before. It’s a traditional two-story brick home, perfect for a family our size; three stories if you count the full-size attic. Icicle lights cover the eaves, and a blow-up slide with polar bears tumbling down it dances in the wind on the front lawn. Potter picked out the inflatable.
“It’s home,” I say.
Her lips turn down.
I grab her hand. “Shit, I’m sorry, Bray. I didn’t mean to be inconsiderate.”
She brushes me off. “It’s okay. Your parents don’t have any of those outdoor cameras like at Sebastian’s house, do they?”
“Nope.”
“So, how are you going to get me inside?”
I can’t fail right off the bat. I’ve got to get her inside and hidden away.
“Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll go inside and yell I’m home to my mom. Chances are, she’ll be in the family room alone. Dad, I’m sure, is already in bed. You can slip in the living room. When I give you the all clear, we’ll head upstairs.
“Potter will be out. The twins will still be up watching TV in the playroom, which is just outside my bedroom. I’ll distract them so you can slip by. My room is the first door on the left. We can hang out in my room until the twins are in bed, then I’ll take you to the attic.”
“I really need to use the bathroom,” she says. “That might be a problem. I suppose you don’t have one in the attic.”
“Nope. But I do have my own in my room, and the attic staircase is right next to my bedroom door.”
She scrapes her bottom lip between her teeth. Ugh! I really want to kiss those lips.
“Ready?” I say, shutting off the engine.
She takes a deep breath and nods.
When I open the front door, a faint light filters in through the hallway leading to the adjoined kitchen and family room. Mom in the family room: check.
“I’m home,” I yell. “Heading to bed. I’m tired.”
“Did you eat at the church again?” Mom asks.
“Yeah.” I motion for Bray to enter and point toward the living room.
“I have a slice of chocolate cake for you.”
Yum! I hold a stop sign hand to Bray and walk toward the kitchen.
“Thanks, Mom. I’m taking this upstairs. I need to study before bed.”
“I’d better not find that plate still in your room tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll bring it down in a bit.”
“Do you want any milk?”
“No, thank you.”
“How did volunteering go?”
Of course, when I need to get away, Mom wants to chat.
“It was good, but I really need to study.” I hug her and kiss her cheek. “Night.”
“Make sure the twins are in bed. If not, tell them I said to get in bed.”
“Okay.”
I head back to the foyer and motion for Bray to join me. “Let’s step together so we don’t make any extra sound when going up the stairs,” I whisper. “They can be pretty creaky.”
She nods. We slowly make our way up the wooden stairs, trying to stifle our giggles.
The playroom is dark except for the television glow. Riverdale as I expected. I motion for Bray to stop on the top step.
Allie is awake and lying on the couch without a view of my room. Addie is passed out on the other couch facing my room. Lucky us!
I look back at Bray and point to the ground. Her hands fly out and she gives me an exasperated look that makes me melt. She kneels down and crawls in my direction. I try to hold the laughter, but a cackle pops out.
Allie jumps and looks at me. Luckily, Bray has already made her way behind the couch.
“Thanks for scaring me, jerk,” Allie says, glancing back to the television.
Bray points to my open bedroom door, and I give her a small nod.
Once she’s in, I set my cake down on an end table and pop Addie gently with a pillow. “Mom said to go to bed.”
Allie flips off the TV, and they head to their shared room.
That was so easy. I can’t believe I got away with it.
Chapter 26
I hide in the closet until he shuts and locks his bedroom door.
The room is a bit of a mess, but he has a leg lamp from our favorite movie. His Christmas socks are draped over it. Despite the mess, his bed is covered in a Knights quilt and the desk is organized with pictures taped to the surface. Several of him and Farren, but a few of us, like the one of him giving me a piggyback ride in the school cafeteria because he thought lunchtime truth or dare would be fun. After making me eat a packet of straight mayonnaise, I had to get him back.
I run to his bathroom and pee, shedding my underwear and wadding it up before burying it in the trash. They fit perfectly, but I don’t want any reminder of the party. I only kept the jewelry to pawn it.
After taking a shower with soap that smells like him and brushing my teeth, I enter his room in a towel and rummage through his drawers.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says, launching off his bed like I’m going to find his porn stash.
But the top drawer only has boxers and socks. I snag one of each and turn around.
Zain puts his hands on my shoulders. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Changing.”
“You have clothes.”
“In your car, and I refuse to wear anything that was on my body tonight.”
He shakes his head. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I want clothes.”
“I’ll give you one item of clothing for each question you answer.”
“Deal.” It’s not like he’s going to ask the right questions, and he didn’t put any limitations on how vague my answers could be.
I slip on a pair of plaid boxers under the towel.
“First question, why were you in a nightgown?”
“I had to wear it for the party.” I put on a sock.
“Why did you get kicked out?”
“Veto.”
Zain violently shakes his head. “Veto? You can’t veto.”
“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”
He sighs. “Fine, but that’s your only one. Now take off the sock.”
“This isn’t strip poker, and I’m cold. Just give me a question.”
“Why did you have to wear that nightgown to a party?”
“The client made all the wait staff. It was a theme party. Everyone was in black and white.”
“Was it some sort of sex party?”
I put on another sock.
“Yes.”
“Did you participate?”
I turn around and drop my towel before digging for a shirt. His breath hitches, and I want to turn around and get him to touch me so his questions will end and he won’t send me to the cold attic.
“Bray.”
My eyes close at the sound of his voice undoing me.
“Bottom drawer,” he says. “You can wear my Pacers sweatshirt. It’s the warmest thing I have.”
I put it on, and the fleece inside is so soft, I doubt I’ll give it back.
I face him and wrap my hair with the towel.
“So, did you participate in the sex party?”
He’s better at this than I expected. Not even a girl changing in his bedroom can distract him. I’ve ran out of vetoes, so I answer. “Yes.”
His eyes fall. “I’m sorry.”
He’s sorry? He knows I didn’t want to?
I thought I could handle it, a grope here and there. A kiss for a couple hundred. I played the part, even as my skin crawled. The kind of money I
was making would cover a month’s rent and groceries. More parties would pay for a lawyer to get custody of Milo and maybe even Izzy. Everything I’ve done has been for them, but I never got paid for it before tonight. After the first few tips, I felt powerful, like I really did have control.
I grab a pair of sweatpants. “Last question.”
He’ll ask if I had sex, and I can say no and this will all be over.
“Why did you leave?”
I pause with one leg in his sweats.
Her, walking through the door, wrapping her arms around the host’s neck, whispering in his ear, then giving a come-hither signal to one of the girls and kissing her.
I had to get out.
“I saw my mom.”
“Beth?”
“No, my biological mother.”
He furrows his brows. “But you’re in foster care.”
“I was until I aged out.”
“And you don’t want to live with your real mother?”
“No.”
“Was she bad?”
I hand him my towel. “You’re out of questions, and I answered more than I had to.”
He nods and tosses the towel onto the floor.
“I could’ve done that.”
He smiles.
“And get those socks off your lamp.”
“I’m making them toasty.”
“Do you have a winter hat?”
“Yep.”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t ask me more questions.
“I need to get you in the attic. Mom checks everyone’s doors at night to make sure they aren’t locked.”
“Why?”
“Her sister died in a fire. She had her bedroom door locked, so no one could get to her to wake her. She died from smoke inhalation. We can lock our doors when we’re changing, but not at night.”
“I didn’t have a lock.”
Percy made sure of it so he could come in whenever. Beth took sleeping pills. He was in no danger of her waking up. We almost got caught once when Milo came in to tell me he puked on his floor, but it was dark in my room, and Percy was all the way under the sheets.
“I should get you to the attic before she does her rounds.”
“Yeah.”
He takes me to the attic.
It’s much colder than in his room. He apologizes and fans out a sleeping bag, dust leaving its surface.
He turns on a small lamp that lights my corner but not much more. Boxes are everywhere, some empty, but most are marked up and taped.
“I’ll bring you breakfast in the morning.”
“Entertainment, too. Please?”
“Of course.”
He dusts his hands and looks around. “I’m sort of glad I got punished now. If I hadn’t, there’d be nowhere to hide you.”
“Are you doing okay? I know you broke up with Farren, but you had been drinking. If you need to talk—”
Zain shakes his head. “I’m done with that. I just didn’t want to deal with her anymore and was a little jealous of you and Sebastian.”
“What? Why? We’ve never been #relationshipgoals.”
“Sorry,” he says, “if you want that answer, you’ll owe me one, and I won’t let you veto.”
“Evil.”
“I prefer genius.”
He wiggles his brows, making me laugh, then descends the stairs.
When he reaches the bottom, I hear his mom. “What were you doing up there?”
“I thought I left a light on. Didn’t want to leave a fire hazard if a mouse chews through the plug tonight.”
“Good thinking.”
My stomach rolls. Not this again. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. This sucker strikes when it wants. I need Sprite and crackers. Or an abortion. That’d end my morning sickness.
I crawl into the sleeping bag, praying there are no spiders or rat poop. Goodnight, world.
Chapter 27
“Why haven’t you eaten your cake?” My mom pulls the socks from my leg lamp and tosses them into my laundry basket. “What have you been doing up here?”
I totally forgot about the cake. Bray makes me forget everything but her. I shrug my shoulders, plopping down on my bed with phone in hand.
“I should have accepted one of the punishment’s your dad wanted to inflict on you—phone removal. I thought you had to study?”
“I do. I was talking to Theo. He had questions about our calculus final.” I pull my calculus book and journal from my backpack.
“Is that your only exam tomorrow?”
I nod.
“I’ll be out Christmas shopping most of the day. I’ll see you when you get home from volunteering. Goodnight.” She fluffs my hair. “ You need a haircut.”
“Okay, Farren.”
“Take it back.”
My eyebrows rise.
“Take it back, or I’m taking your chocolate cake away.” She reaches for the plate still sitting on my dresser.
“I take it back.”
“I thought so.”
After she leaves, I quickly review functions and derivatives, but my mind’s not in it. It’s upstairs, keeping Bray warm. I hope she’s not too cold.
I toss my books on the floor and attempt to sleep. Maybe I can pretend-sleepwalk upstairs.
That visual Bray gave me is hard to erase. The way she turned away from me, dropping the towel wearing nothing but my boxers and socks. It’s like she was teasing me by putting on the sweatshirt slowly, giving me a nice long look at the curves of her waist and the way my boxers hung loosely on her hips.
My alarm blares. I jolt awake, feeling like I just fell asleep. I lost count of how many times I crawled out of bed and stood by the attic staircase, listening—wanting to go see her.
The garage door opens then closes. Dad’s off to work. I quickly dress in my practice clothes and run downstairs to the kitchen.
Does Bray like coffee? I pop a k-cup in the maker. I grab a grocery bag from the pantry and fill it with granola bars, an assortment of single-serve cereal boxes, and Pop-Tarts. Taking in my haul, I realize this much missing food might draw attention, so I cut it down to one of each.
If she drinks coffee, how would she like it? My mom prefers alcohol in hers on the weekends, but during the week, she adds french vanilla creamer. I pour the coffee into an insulated travel mug and top it off with my mom’s weekday go-to. Grabbing a water bottle and a soda, I head up two flights of stairs to the attic and to a sleeping Bray.
Her cheeks are pink and her nose is red. Guilt washes over me. I sent her to sleep in a freezing attic. How cruel am I? I wish my closet was big enough to hide her.
“Bray?” I whisper, gently tugging on the sleeping bag.
She stirs but doesn’t wake. Soft, undecipherable mumbles escape her parted lips.
I could play the part of a prince and kiss her, and she’ll magically come alive like all those fairytale movies. But knowing Bray, she’d probably wake and slap me.
My fingers softly brush her rosy cheeks.
“Zain,” she mumbles.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
Her lips move again, but nothing is audible. I’m in a trance watching her sleep. Her auburn hair contrasts her pale skin. She’s even more beautiful than I thought.
She turns her head slightly and murmurs, “Zain, you’re my angel.” Heavy breaths leave her lips as goosebumps rise on my skin. Is she dreaming about me? If it wasn’t for practice, I would sit right here all morning, listening to her talk in her sleep.
“Kiss me,” she mutters. She turns over and curls up, her eyes still closed.
My hand flutters to my lips, and my heart grows three sizes just like in The Grinch. She won’t remember it if I kiss her. Just one little brush of our lips.
Nope.
Not doing it. Not like this. I want it to be memorable for both of us.
I nudge her with a bit more force; she sits upright, almost hitting her head on the rafters. “What?” she says, her eyes half closed.
“You can go back to sleep in a minute. I brought you breakfast and my iPad. If you need anything today, use the messenger app to let me know. I should be home by noon. My mom said she’d be out shopping most of the day, so you may have free reign of the house.”
She nods then lies back down as her eyes slowly close. She’s asleep again before her head hits the pillow she made from the extra blanket I gave her. I have four pillows on my bed. Couldn’t I have given her at least one?
Chapter 28
When I wake up for good, I start opening boxes. Zain mentioned he had to clean the attic as punishment. Since he’s helping me, I may as well help him. That way, when he’s here, we can spend time together talking instead of him working. But it’s a big task. The Abners’ whole lives are up here, tucked away in cardboard.
I open a box named Momma’s albums and start coughing. They’ve sat here so long, dust is inside the box.
I pull out an album and open it to black and white photos of people I don’t recognize. Someone in the family must’ve had a film budget.
Another box is labeled Zain’s childhood. My stomach flips. This is the good sort of pandora’s box, or maybe the worst if it makes me fall for Zain.
I think of his dimpled smile and can’t resist. Luckily, dust didn’t get into this box because all the creases were covered in duct tape.
A plastic case holds little white shoes. They must be his first pair. A yellow and blue blanket is in a vacuum-sealed bag.
Gold-framed baby pictures, his bottom lip puckered out. So cute.
My hand goes to my stomach, and I begin to cry. I put the photo down, lie back on the sleeping bag, and close my eyes.
What will Zain do when he finds out I’m pregnant?
I wish a scientist could invent a tube to keep the thing alive, so they could take it from me now.
Me. This thing—this baby—is part of me. I need to focus on that and not the other half of the DNA or I might claw myself open. How am I going to have the strength to do this when I get so big that there are no seconds in the day when I can deny what’s happening to my body?
Unwrap My Heart Page 10