by Geneva Lee
* * *
There’s something hot and wet sliding down my cheeks. I swipe at the tears, feeling betrayed by own body. “I didn’t have anything else to give her,” I tell Adair. “She was fucking starving—they told me later. And I was just going to school and living my life, and my baby sister was starving to death.”
Adair is quiet for a second, then she crawls over and climbs onto my lap. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, a hand cradling my neck, and she draws my face to her chest. “You were a kid,” she says softly. “You shouldn’t have been dealing with any of that.”
“Who else was going to deal with it?” I ask the question I’d asked a million times since then. “Nobody cared. The school saw me showing up every day in the same clothes. They didn’t say anything. The shelter gave me a bed and tried not to ask questions. You know why?”
Adair waits, as if she senses that this is a conversation I need to have alone.
“Because as long as people can say they’re trying, they don’t have to feel badly. I mean, I had food and somewhere to sleep most nights thanks to them. They couldn’t do anything else, right? Some parents are shitty. Some kids have to get stuck with them. I thought I was doing my sister a favor. Being invisible is a helluva lot better than watching your dad beat the crap out of your brother every night. Most of the time, Mom was pretty good at lying low. At least, I thought she was.” I laugh, and the sound is so distant it’s almost like it’s coming from somewhere else. “Until…”
“She got sick?” Adair guesses.
I shake my head, my brain trying to stop the words from coming out. “She wasn’t sick. That was the problem.”
* * *
The sound of children screeching wakes me, and I sit up to see a blur of white outside the window. My limbs are stiff. Not just from sleeping on the ground, but also from the chilly air. I guess the heating bill didn’t get paid. Getting up, I discover a blanket of snow on the fire escape outside. Another joyful scream rises in the air as my heart sinks. If the kids playing below are any indication, it’s a snow day.
No school. No breakfast. No lunch. No safe place to stash Sutton while I figure out what to do next.
Sutton sits up in bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and grabs her blanket. She clutches it to her tiny body. “It’s cold.”
“Yep, but it snowed.” I grin widely to distract her from her chattering teeth.
“Am I going to school?” She glances at her alarm clock, and her face falls.
“No school today,” I say quickly. “We’re having an adventure instead. We’re going to see the city.”
“Where are we going?” she asks as I look for the warmest clothing I can find in her drawers, then toss them on her bed. It takes me a minute to find her winter coat. It’s still shoved in the back of her closet. The coat is two sizes too small, but it’s better than nothing.
“Let’s see.” I search for places that will definitely be open and warm. “The library?”
“Yes” She lights up. Sutton loves reading almost as much as I do. “The zoo?”
“It’s a little cold for the zoo, kid.” I grab two pairs of socks.
“Not for the polar bears.” She pulls on the first pair.
“I’m going to leave Mom a note,” I tell her. With any luck, there’s a little money in the stash Mom keeps hidden in the cabinet. It’s for emergencies, but I’m pretty sure this qualifies. Sutton needs food, and maybe I can check on Mom, get her some medicine.
Dad’s chair is empty, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He went to work, which means I don’t have to sneak around. I open the kitchen cabinet next to the oven and stretch my fingers to the back of the shelf until they skim across cold metal. It takes me a second to get the old coffee canister down. When I pop open the lid, I find three dollars. It’s enough for a hot dog. Maybe a slice if Tommy at the place on the corner is in a good mood. At least it will be hot, and to Sutton it will seem like a treat.
I pocket the bills and head back down the hall. Mom’s door is cracked, and I poke my head in, calling a soft, “Hello?”
She doesn’t answer. I can see her on the bed, even though the room is still dark. I hesitate. Maybe I should let her sleep, especially if she’s sick. I glance toward Sutton’s door across the hall. It takes me a second to realize that if mom is really sick, she might need to see a doctor. If she’s just avoiding reality, then she needs a wake up call. I can’t stick around all the time, not when Dad is on the warpath.
“Mom,” I say more firmly. I walk over to the bed and sit next to her. “You feeling okay?” I wait for her to answer, but she’s still sleeping. “Mom, Sutton needs you to get out of bed. I can take her for the day, but…” I reach to shake her, but when my hand touches her shoulder, it’s ice cold. Of course she’s cold. She’s on top of the covers, laying on her stomach. Maybe she had a fever and fell asleep like this.
“Come on.” I try to pull the covers up and over her, but she doesn’t budge. “You’re just going to feel worse if you don’t warm up.”
Reaching over, I twist on the lamp by her bed, hoping the light will wake her. That’s when I notice the blood.
* * *
Adair gasps and my hands clutch her hips, feeling the soft, warm skin. I want to bury myself between them and escape, but I can’t escape the past any more than I can change it.
“She was dead,” I say flatly. “Had been for days. Dad hit her with something. They never found out what.”
“And your sister?” Adair asks. “What happened?”
“I took her out for her snow day,” I say.
Her eyebrows knit together. “Did you call the police?”
“Not at first,” I admit. “I didn’t want Sutton to…to see that.”
* * *
I close the door behind me, my hands trembling. I feel as cold as she did. Sutton appears in her doorway, beaming like a ray of sunshine. Her jeans are an inch too short and her sneakers have a hole in the toe.
And she’s got no mother.
I push the thought aside and grab her hand. “Ready for our adventure?”
“Yes!” she squeals. She pauses and looks at Mom’s door. “Did you tell her where we were going?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “She knows. Where do you want to go first?”
“The library!”
“Big surprise.” I lead her down the hall, away from the nightmare she’s been living, away from her old life, away from everything she knows, and say a prayer that whatever comes next is better than the hell she’s leaving behind.
* * *
“You went to the library?” Adair trips over the words like she can’t fathom it.
“There were computers there, and it’s always warm,” I tell her. “I looked up some addresses. We spent the day together, and then I walked into the closest CPS office.”
“And told them what?” she asks.
“I pulled them aside and said my sister needed to go into custody, that she wasn’t safe at home. There was a really nice woman who got my sister hot chocolate and talked with her.”
“And you?”
“When no one was looking? I left.”
“You left?” Adair repeats like she misheard me. “Where did you go?”
“Where do you think I went? I went home to kill my dad.”
The arms around my neck loosen, and Adair draws back to study my face. “But your dad is alive.”
“What can I say? I’m a crappy murderer.” My attempt to lighten the mood falls flat. It’s not surprising, I guess. “He came home, and I confronted him. I stabbed him with a kitchen knife, but it wasn’t very sharp. He probably would have killed me if the cops hadn’t shown up. CPS alerted them, and they came to do a welfare check. I didn’t see my dad again until I testified in court a year later.”
“Is he in jail?”
“Yeah. He deserves to be in hell.”
Adair doesn’t argue against this. She just lowers her face against my hair and holds me close to her. “What about your
sister?”
“She was young and adorable, and CPS found her a place to live right away. The family didn’t want an older kid.”
Adair gasps. “So they split you up?”
“It was better for her, anyway. I basically spent the next three years jumping around the system. Anytime things got too comfortable, I’d pick a fight and get sent somewhere new.”
“Until Francie?” Adair guesses.
“The nice woman at CPS with the hot chocolate? Francie’s sister. I kept winding up back at her desk. Finally, she got Francie to take me, and I’ve been with her ever since.”
“She cleaned up your act.”
“It took a while. I caused as much trouble as I could,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because I had this ache inside me and nothing soothed it, but hitting something distracted me. Then, at a party, I discovered drinking,” I confess. “It was like escaping. I found rock bottom at the bottom of a bottle.”
“Francie didn’t give up on you, though?”
“Yeah, I have no idea why.” I still don’t. I never deserved her patience, and I’ve tested it too many times to count.
“Maybe she sees what I do,” Adair says softly.
“A worthless orphan?” I ask. “Or not an orphan, I guess. My piece of shit father is still alive, serving his sentence in upstate New York. I guess I’m a bastard?” I laugh feebly, but she doesn’t join in.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Talk shit about yourself,” she says. “I forbid it.”
“It’s one of the few things that I’m really good at,” I tell her. “I mean, I’m just like my dad.” I turn my face away, unable to look at her. She deserves love and magic and wonder and a life I can never give her. I’m a black hole, destroying every good thing I encounter, swallowing them up and leaving nothing behind.
“You’re not.” She grabs my chin and forces me to look her in the eyes. “You just have to let yourself believe it.”
“I’m sorry, Lucky. I guess I learned a long time ago to expect the worst in people, especially myself.”
I look into her eyes and find understanding. No, more than that: acceptance.
“We all have our faults,” she murmurs, “and our baggage.”
“Some of us more than others.”
“Tell you what,” she says. “How about when yours starts to feel heavy, you let me help you carry it for a while?”
I stare at her in wonder. She surprises me at every turn. I don’t look at Adair and see someone perfect. I see someone real. Maybe the first real person I’ve ever known. Her faults are glaringly obvious. Her temper? Well, it’s scary. She sticks her foot in her mouth every other sentence. And she quotes books and calls me on my shit and holds me during the dark moments. “Why would you do that?”
“I think that’s what you’re supposed to do,” she whispers, “when you might love someone.”
“Might?” I murmur, the pounding in my head drown out by a rush of blood.
“Definitely, maybe.” She kisses me softly with her sweet lips.
“I don’t want you to go.” I want to trap her in my arms and keep her here with me—safe and flawed and beautiful—forever.
“I’ll be here as long as you want me,” she breathes.
“That’s going to be a very long time,” I warn her.
Adair smiles and warmth seeps into me like I’ve stepped into the sun. “Good.”
13
Adair
Present Day
The next day a dozen roses arrive at my suite, followed by an arrangement of magnolia blossoms the day after, and by a large arrangement of wildflowers the next. I leave them all in the hall for maid service to take away, but no one does. Since I refuse to even acknowledge their existence, they just linger like funeral flowers.
Here lies the remains of our relationship.
I’m debating ordering breakfast to my room to avoid seeing them when someone knocks on the door. Checking the clock, I see it’s unusually early for deliveries. I brace to find him on the other side, but when I peek through the chain lock, Poppy’s pursed frown stares back at me.
“Shit, hold on.” I slide the lock free and fling open the door to discover her and Kai on my doorstep. He’s dressed down, a cap pulled low on his head, likely to avoid recognition. In a pair of worn jeans and a vintage Johnny Cash t-shirt, he still exudes too much coolness to avoid notice. Poppy, on the other hand, is dressed for battle in a skintight, black leather dress and sky-high black pumps. She wears the ensemble like armor, and I know exactly what weapon she’s brought along: a sharp tongue. She marches into the room, a vase of flowers in her arms, and deposits on the small table in the living area.
“These were outside,” she announces, wiping her palms together as if to congratulate herself on a job well done.
“I don’t want—” I begin, but Kai shakes his head.
“Don’t try to argue with her. She’s on a tear.”
“I am not on a tear!” Poppy exclaims, whirling on us. “I mean, why would I be? It’s not as if my best friend moved out of her house without telling me and then moved into my boyfriend’s hotel without telling me and then avoided my calls for three days.”
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” I whisper to Kai.
“You are,” Poppy answers for him, blowing a strand of black hair from her face with unnecessary force. “What were you thinking?” She pauses and runs her eyes down me. “And what are you wearing?”
“I got it at Target,” I say defensively. I pat the silky-soft knit jumpsuit affectionately. If I’m going to hunker down in a hotel, I might as well be comfortable.
“I like it,” Kai offers and I shoot him a grateful smile. At least he’s still in my court.
“Target?” she repeats like I’m speaking a foreign language. “Adair, what is going on?”
“You better sit down. Do you want me to order breakfast?” I ask.
Poppy drops onto the sofa and crosses her arms. “I’m not hungry.”
“Mimosas?” I coax.
She glares at me and looks away. I order the mimosas anyway. By the time they arrive, I’ve filled them in on the last few days.
“So, the flowers are from him?” Kai says. I nod.
Poppy remains silent but reaches for a glass. She skips the orange juice and pours a full glass of champagne. “This isn’t a time for moderation,” she informs us. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I see the battle in her dark eyes. She wants to understand, but she’s hurt that I didn’t reach out. I shake my head. I can put her mind to ease on that front. “I left my phone at his place. It’s dead as a door nail, which is probably why he hasn’t realized he has it.”
I have no doubt Sterling would have brought it to me himself if he knew he had it.
“Do you want me to go get it?” Poppy asks.
I shrug and down half a mimosa. “I don’t need it.”
She exchanges a look with Kai.
“What was that?” I ask.
“You don’t need it?” Kai repeats. “Are you sure you aren’t waiting for him to bring it to you?”
“The last thing I want is to see Sterling Ford,” I fume. Just saying his name sends blood rushing to my cheeks—and to other places.
“Yes, you probably would much rather be shagging him in the hall.” Poppy’s lips twist into an impish smile.
I hold up a hand. “I confessed! Now can we drop it? I need a break from the Sterling roller coaster.”
“That means you haven’t talked to Felix!” Poppy gasps, and my heart plummets into my stomach. For one never-ending second, the world stops. She seem my terror and her eyes widen. “Nothing’s wrong, darling! Oh, I’m sorry. We went by looking for you when we couldn’t reach you. He mentioned that Ellie got into preschool at Valmont Preparatory.”
Pressing a hand to my chest, I take a deep breath and feel my heart rate drop. “You scared me!”
“Oops.” She shr
ugs her slender shoulders with a sheepish smile. “However, he did say to ask you to call him. Ellie is asking questions.”
Neither my heart nor my stomach takes this news particularly well. There’s only one reason to stay at Windfall: to protect Ellie. “I shouldn’t move out.”
“Nonsense. You can protect her without being there,” Poppy says. “She sees the way they treat you. Show her that a strong woman doesn’t stick around when she’s treated like that.”
“What if they turn on her?” I ask so quietly that I’m almost surprised they hear me.
“They won’t.” Kai sounds so sure. I wish I shared his optimism.
“We won’t let them,” Poppy says. “Felix is there ,and he’s in charge of her inheritance. He’ll make them toe the line. He already made Ginny attend dance lessons with her.”
“He did?” I ask hopefully. Ginny tended to skip out on little things like that, reserving her attention for charity functions and luncheons—whatever Malcolm would want.
Poppy nods her head. “He’s got them in check.”
“Are they that bad?” Kai asks.
“Worse,” Poppy says. “I never understood how a woman so desperate to have a baby could be so disinterested in her child.” It’s unlike Poppy to criticize someone, especially a family member. By her terms, this is the height of judgment.
“It’s part of the terms of their prenup,” I explain, gulping against the guilt surging in my throat. I was taught never to air family business that might reflect poorly. “My father told me once. If Malcolm divorces her before she gives him a child, she gets nothing. Having Ellie ensured she would be taken care of for life.”
“She had a baby to crack the terms of a prenup?” Kai asks. “Your lawyers are terrible. I would never sign that.”
“The lawyers can be a bit backwards when it comes to middle-class wives and billionaire husbands,” I say dryly.
“And middle-class men? Or, for that matter, poor guys?”