Hidden River Deception (Hidden River Academy Book 4)

by KT Strange

“Oh fuck,” Colt said with a laugh, reaching for the joint I held between my fingers. “Oh fuck they didn’t.”

  They had done exactly that, as Mia showered off, and Shawn had gone home with her, letting me handle my parents.

  My idiot parents. My parents who thought making delicate references to nude beaches was somehow them trying to get on my level and jive with me or vibe with me or whatever new parenting bullshit they’d been told about by their therapists.

  God my life was fucked up. When I’d been staying with Coach, I’d been insulated from all that shit, because even when my parents did show up for a week of ‘fresh air in the countryside’, they didn’t see much of me.

  Now that I was living at home, that was going to be a different story. I was regretting more than ever the choices that I’d made.

  “Hello,” a familiar voice said, and I sighed. Reid. Fucking Reid.

  Colt said up, squinting in the sunlight.

  “Fuck off. You can’t sit with us. You’re not wearing pink,” he said, grabbing for the lighter. Reid shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “If you’re going to smoke up, you might not want to do it so close to the football field,” he said, even though we were far enough away that the scent wouldn’t carry. Or at least, wouldn’t carry too much.

  “Not like you to give a shit, Remington,” Shawn said as Colt passed him the joint. I was settling into a nice, even high. Not so much that I was going to start laughing like a freshman on his first trip, but enough that all the hard edges of my day were fading.

  Balancing everything was getting to be too fucking much for me. While my parents hadn’t mentioned The Incident at all, I knew it was coming.

  They’d get me, at some point, when I least expected it. And I’d regret everything when that happened.

  It came as I set my bag down on the counter in the downstairs kitchen later that day, planning on grabbing a snack before heading up to my apartment.

  “Darling,” my mother said, sweeping into the room, dressed in Chanel from head to toe like she was some sort of model doing the runway catwalk. Well, she’d been one when she was seventeen, and ever since then she’d thought it was her place in life, and she dressed the part. “Darling boy,” she murmured, her fingers trailing over my shoulder to cup the back of my neck. “It’s so good to be back with you.” Her eyes, that bright doll blue that my father had waxed poetic about so many time, had just the slightest hint of fine lines around them. She smiled at me and I squirmed away, a tight feeling in my stomach. I just wanted to eat, and go fucking nap.

  She spent so much time away, especially in the last five years, it felt weird to have her touching me. I shrugged out of her grip.

  “It’s nice to have you back too, I guess,” I said as I turned toward the fridge. I couldn’t help the way my words slipped out. They were too sarcastic, and uncaring. But who the hell even was my mother, at this point, to me? She was a woman who enabled me to live the life I wanted, for now anyway. As soon as I was old enough, I was done pretending that there was anything holding our family together except strict blood ties. Freedom for me would ring at nineteen, when all the legal obligations my family had to me came due, and I was no longer dependent on them for anything.

  I couldn’t fucking wait.

  “You’re so cold,” she said, the pout in her voice, “is it because we interrupted your little bit of fun? Really darling, that was an absolute accident, and honestly, I’m embarrassed you even thought to carry on like that in this house. What if one of the staff had seen you? You know how they like to talk with every other household in the area. Is that the first time you’ve… dallied?” She said it so precisely, the word dripping off her tongue like it was a curse. I opened the fridge and stared at the contents, wondering if the milk was as cold as the blood in her veins. Probably not, it wasn’t ice-cream.

  “Are we talking about this now? I thought we were just going to ignore it like everything else important in our lives,” I said. “How the fuck was Paris, anyway?” I turned, the fridge slamming harder than I meant to behind me. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

  “Pedestrian compared to Monaco or Cannes, but we felt like slumming it,” my mother said, her lip curling. “Don’t slam doors, dear, it’s not-”

  “I don’t give a fuck what it’s not,” I said, the anger inside of me, long ago buried, finally roaring up. “Can you stop obsessing about anything that’s not expensive and perfect? The world isn’t ordered around your needs, mother.”

  Because it wasn’t. They hadn’t been able to buy their way out of our personal familial problems, and never could. Not anymore. It was too late for that, and they knew it. Her eyes softened, and she looked away from me. She knew what I was talking about. It wasn’t about my interrupted sex-a-thon with Shawn and Mia. This was deeper, buried under my skin like a thousand fish hooks, so far under that they’d never work loose and all it did was hurt every time someone brushed up against me.

  And my mother had a certain habit of brushing up against me. I fucking hated that about her. She knew all my weak spots and would slowly, over the course of her visit, poke her finger into every single one, until I was sobbing on the floor and begging her to stop. And then she’d up and leave, like nothing had happened at all, like it didn’t matter that she had a child she’d completely wrecked. There’d be some friends in St. Barth’s to visit, or bridge to play in Aspen with the girls, and she’d forget all about the child she had left.

  The only child she had left.

  Her face went from caring too serene, dull, mask.

  “Of course you must be tired, with all that fucking you’re doing,” she said, the curse casual in her mouth like she said it all the time. “You couldn’t have picked a prettier girl? Or one better connected? I hear she’s the coach’s niece.”

  “She is,” I said. My mother rolled her eyes, and I saw the skin around her eyes shift, turn more crepey, show her age. It was wrong to feel so vindictive about it, but that made me happy. She’d been pretending forever that she was the same age and it was only me who was getting older, as if by surprised, every time she turned around I was suddenly 10 and not 5, 15 and not 10. “She’s Coach Quinn’s niece, and don’t forget, he’s the one I’ve been living with while you and Dad have been drinking your way along the European coastline.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of wine,” my mother said, looking scandalized. “Not that piss beer you drink.” She folded her arms over her chest and surveyed me, her mouth pulling into something that resembled a cat’s ass. “Invite her to dinner,” she said.

  “What?” I jerked like she’d hit me.

  “Invite her to dinner. She ought to dine with us, so we can learn more about her. Unless she was… Shawn’s little plaything, but he’s always trailed after you like some simpering little puppy anyway, it’s very adorable.” Her eyes were cold, the blue frosting over until she looked away, and her gaze alighted on an expensive Prada purse sitting on the edge of the counter. It’s lines were stiff, the leather waxed and shiny. Just like her.

  It was a little bit like when dogs resembled their owners. My mother resembled her possessions.

  “I’m not asking Mia over to dinner so you can gawk at her,” I said, “she’s a person-”

  “That you were thoroughly debauching with another boy, so clearly you can’t care that much about her feelings. A tender young woman, being pawed at by two hulking brutes.” My mother leaned over and poked me in the chest with one perfectly shellacked finger-nail. “It was positively medieval. No, bring her. She and I can sit down for some girlish chat, while you and your father break into the good whiskey. What do you think?”

  “Your obessession with giving me your casual alcoholism is impressive,” I muttered, my appetite gone. I needed to get out of the fucking kitchen.

  “Just tell her to wear clothes the time,” my mother said, almost mirthful, and from the cruel glint in her eye, I could tell she was getting off on twisting the knife in my chest.


  My mother never came at anyone from behind. When she destroyed you, it was from the front, so she could see the shock and pain in your eyes as you went down at her feet.

  I walked away and she watched me go, her lips parted. I’d never realized how much she looked like a sort of evil, pastel vampire, her clothing various shades of Easter-egg pinks and blues, and then her lips… red, just-bitten, her carefully whitened teeth sharp and mean in her mouth.

  I couldn’t bring Mia back under their scrutiny. If my mother was bad, my father was worse. They’d ruined our family with their toxicity, and the only thing keeping the walls up was the piles of money they couldn’t spend, because it was out of their reach, for now at least.

  I didn’t exactly see where I had much of a choice though. They were still my parents, and while I was under their roof, I had to follow the ‘rules’, or they’d make my life hell. I’d just prep Mia for it, or maybe… maybe say that she was busy for the rest of her life and couldn’t come.

  They’d believe that. On a cold day in hell.

  15

  Mia

  “Hey,” Buck said, swooping an arm around my shoulders as I walked out of gym class feeling sweaty and unkempt. I needed to fix my hair, seriously. I frowned up at him.

  “I’m gross,” I said.

  “I’m used to it,” he replied, with a laugh. “Uh, so,” he took a breath. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to join my family for Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “Your-” My face immediately went red. We hadn’t talked about that moment, but it’d been hanging between me, Buck and Shawn like a dirty smell. I’d told Colt about it, and he’d died laughing before promising to gut both of the guys for not making sure all the doors to Buck’s apartment were locked.

  It was probably going to go down in my memories as one of my most embarrassing moments. Thankfully Buck’s parents didn’t seem like the talking type, so my uncle was blissfully ignorant and I prayed he’d stay that way.

  I did not need to be explaining this shit to him, because we had a pretty good and open relationship… but not that open. The last thing I needed was him getting wind of my sexcapades.

  “Okay, so um, Thanksgiving?”

  “We have it on Monday,” Buck said with a shrug. “Weird, I know, but it’s because my parents always get invited to some big social event on the Thursday, and don’t want to book themselves up with something so menial as a family dinner.” He sounded bitter, and I put my hand on his, gently. My mom wasn’t around because she didn’t have a choice. I’d always wondered what it was like to have family not be around because they just didn’t want to be. Buck’s family clearly didn’t give two fucks about him, because they were always gone. It was bothering him more than he realized, too.

  I’d need to talk to Shawn about it, when we had a few quiet minutes, figure out what I could do or say to help Buck. Nobody deserved to feel unloved and left behind.

  We were all such messes in the family department. Was that normal? Did everyone just have fucked up families that cared more about themselves than their kids? I was beginning to think that it was more abnormal to have parents that stuck around, stuck it out. The enormity of a world where most people grew up with parents that didn’t care about them, settled on my shoulders for a moment.

  I pushed it away. I didn’t have the energy or the power to take on the world’s problems. It was enough just managing my own.

  “I’ll come,” I said, because I could see his discomfort plain on his face. “Do I need to bring anything?”

  “No, our cook will handle everything. You can just show up, but um,” he paused. “Would you wear something with a high neckline? And like, a skirt past your knees?” His cheeks burned red at his request.

  “Um-”

  “I just… I don’t want them to think the only reason you’re in my life is because of what you and I,” he cleared his throat, “that we’re having sex. Because that’s not it at all. And right now, they look at you and just see… that. What we were doing. I want them to know you like I really know you.”

  I searched his face with my eyes. He looked like he really cared about what they thought about me. That was…. painful and sweet. People never lived up to the standards their loved ones’ families set. That truth was as old as time.

  “Whatever you want,” I said, and he winced.

  “It’s not what I want. You can wear whatever you feel like, I just don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

  “They already have the wrong idea,” I said.

  “What’s a wrong idea? Hey, paws off, meatboy,” Colt said, jostling us as he came up from behind, his arm going around my waist. I smiled at being sandwiched between the two of them and sighed, relaxing a little. Things were better when they were around. I just needed-

  “Oh look, it’s the schools weirdest… what do we call you, a couple? A fourple?” Boots joined us as we walked through the crisp fall air back toward the main school building.

  “Don’t get me involved in that shit,” Colt said, “I’m only in this for Mia. The other two guys can go swivel for all I care.”

  “Nice to feel the love, man,” Buck replied, squeezing my shoulder affectionately. Boots eyed me up.

  “How’s the cookie sandwich filling position going for you?” She asked, without a hint of a blush on her face. She really had no shame.

  “Y’know, I think this is just something I want to keep between me and the people I’m um-” I stumbled over my words, and Colt covered my mouth with his hand gently.

  “What’s she’s saying, you adorable little trouble maker,” he said, “is fuck off.” Boots rolled her eyes at him.

  “Rude,” she said.

  “Not any ruder than asking someone personal details about their romantic life,” Buck cut in, his tone amused and with a hint of finality to it. Boots threw her hands up in the air.

  “Whatever,” she said, “I’m just wanting to keep up with the good gossip. You guys never share and it’s not fair.”

  “Life’s not fair, sweetcheeks,” Colt said, “now shoo, before I make you.” Boots shot him a dirty look and beetled off, adjusting her backpack as she went.

  “This is all Shawn’s fault,” Buck said affectionately. “Him and deciding that it was a good idea to post about his sex life on Tiktok and shit.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Colt said with raw honesty, and I glanced up at him. His eyes were dark with anger, and it wasn’t directed at Shawn. “That fucking father of his. That shit went on way too long.”

  Their arms were heavy and I pulled away.

  “But it’s over,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Colt muttered, “for now.”

  16

  Mia

  “Have fun, sweetheart,” my uncle said, as he drove me up the long drive to Buck’s house. I was in a new wool pea-coat, the black fibers stiff and plush, over my decidedly not-at-all-slutastic dress that fulfilled all of Buck’s wishes. It was a demure maroon, boat-necked, and hit me right below the knee.

  I’d even brought a gift, a small box of chocolates from Bessie’s Creamery, a little artisan shop in town that did gourmet foods. Showing up empty handed seemed like a good way to continue on down the path to Buck’s parents’ bad side.

  My uncle leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

  “You look beautiful, and clever. Go impress them with your smarts,” he said, his eyes full of the innocence of One Who Knows Nothing. He had no idea what I was walking into. My stomach was already trying to crawl it’s way up the back of my throat and I hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet.

  “Thanks, I’ll call you when I’m ready for a pick-up,” I said, slipping out of the car and bracing myself.

  The air outside was chilly and wet. It seemed to cling to me. I was grateful for the wool coat, and I walked up the path to the Barron front door. Just a few months ago, I’d been at a raging party here. Just a few days ago, I’d been up in Buck’s apartment, getting naked with him in Shawn. My c
heeks tingled with warmth against the cold air and I burrowed my nose down into the high collar of my coat. Fuck, life was weird. Did it ever get any less weird? I needed some older friends, like college-aged, so I could ask them that.

  The door opened before I could even knock, and a younger man, his blond hair slicked back, stood there at attention.

  I was never going to get used to people having other people to answer their doors for them.

  Ever.

  He said nothing as I walked inside, just held out his hand for my coat. I handed it to him, the scent of Thanksgiving thick in the air.

  “Darling girl,” Buck’s mom sailed across the foyer toward me, and I swore her feet didn’t touch the ground. It was like she was a ghost. Her hands wrapped around my face and she air-kissed each of my cheeks before I could move. “We are ever so pleased you could come,” she said, “Thanksgiving holds a special place in all of our hearts.”

  Right, so special that you can’t even be bothered to do it on the actual day because you have to leave it open for the people you really care about, people as in not your son, I thought, feeling more than a little mutinous. The woman deserved none of my respect, and all of my dislike. She’d hurt Buck in ways I couldn’t even begin to imagine. I didn’t think much of parents who dumped their children on other people, then ran off to eat and drink their way across another continent.

  It was obvious from the way Buck carried himself, he’d been feeling alone for a long time. The big reasons were right in front of me. His mother blinked, her lashes long and thick, obviously fake, and she glanced coquettishly to the side with a little smile.

  “So, dear girl, tell me, how you came to our little town. It’s quaint, isn’t it? We enjoy it so, to get away from all the big city noise and dust. They say that children raised away from industry have better lung function. Would you say that’s true? I’m sure coming here has been an improvement in your living standard, by far.” She had tucked my hand over her arm and kept it close to her body as we walked her home’s grand halls. So she’d done her research on me.