Lilly: A Kensington Family Novel

by Allie Everhart

  "That's proof that he likes you. He wants you to call him."

  "So now Taylor has a boyfriend," Willow says to me. "And you have one. And I still have no one."

  "You have Silas. You just refuse to talk to him."

  "I don't have a boyfriend," Taylor insists. "He's just a friend."

  Willow rises up from the bed, stretching her arms out and yawning. "I have to study. But first I need a nap." She continues to yawn as she leaves my room.

  "Here's Luke's card." Taylor hands it to me. "In case your dad wants to call him about being in a commercial."

  "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell him about that."

  "I better go. I'm way behind on studying." She walks out with a dreamy look on her face. She's not going to get any studying done. Her mind's still on Luke.

  And my mind is on Reed. I need to talk to him. See if he's still alive after my dad's inquisition.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I call Reed. "Have you recovered yet?"

  "No. Your dad had me sweating so bad I had to take a shower and change clothes."

  "Yeah, he can be a little intimidating."

  "A little? I thought your brother was bad, but he was nothing compared to your dad."

  I laugh. "Can I come over?"

  "Yes. And hurry. I'm dying to see you."

  "You just saw me a half hour ago."

  "Correction. I'm dying to see you without your parents around."

  "I'll be right over."

  His door is open when I get there. He closes it as I step inside, then captures me in his arms and kisses me. "I missed you."

  "I missed you too.

  He hugs me. "This is exactly what I needed."

  "What?"

  "You. In my arms. I'm finally starting to relax. Between my mom disappearing and my car breaking down and your dad questioning me, it's been a rough weekend."

  We walk over and sit on the bed. "Have you heard anything from your mom?"

  "Yeah. She just left me a message saying she's with her boyfriend."

  "Is your Jeep fixed?"

  "It's fixed enough for me to drive. It needs some other stuff done, but I can't afford it right now. I'll do it later."

  "As for my dad questioning you, I think you passed his test. I think he might actually like you."

  "I don't think so. And hey, why didn't you tell me your dad is freaking huge?"

  "I didn't think about it. He's not that big."

  "He's like 6'5 and built like a linebacker."

  "He works out a lot. He has a trainer. And he does boxing, martial arts...that type of stuff."

  "So he's a trained killer. That's comforting."

  I laugh. "That's not what I meant. By the way, he talked to Preston's dad. He won't be pressing charges against you. And if Preston comes near me again, my dad told him he'll file a restraining order against him."

  "What did your dad say about the fight?"

  "He was angry. At both you and Preston. And he found out about your arrest. He told me I couldn't see you again, but then after he met Preston he changed his mind. He said he would've beat him up too. He was kidding, but I knew what he meant."

  "Thank God he doesn't know about my drunk driving accident. He'd never let me near you again."

  "I'd never tell him that. And he'll never find out since you weren't arrested. Can we talk about something else now? I don't want to talk about my dad or Preston or your mom."

  "How about we skip talking altogether?" He lies on the bed, taking me with him, and we eventually make it back to the spot we were before my dad interrupted us last Friday night.

  Then we remain on his bed and talk, avoiding any mention of our family problems and instead talking about one of our favorites topics; art. We talk about colors and shapes and what inspires us. Before Reed came along, I never had anyone to talk with about art. Other people would be bored by it, but Reed and I can talk about it for hours. In fact, when I check the clock I notice we've talked for two hours straight and it's almost time for dinner. But I'm not ready to get up yet.

  We're lying down, facing each other on the bed. I look at Reed. "When you told my dad what you want to do after graduation, is that really what you want to do? Or did you make that up?"

  "I didn't make it up. That's really my plan. I'm not saying it'll work out that way, but it's still my plan, at least for now. How about you?"

  "I'm not sure yet. I feel like I'm not ready to decide. I don't feel confident enough in my art to think that anyone would buy it."

  "Lilly, you're a great artist. But even so, there will always be people who don't like your work or think it's not good enough. You have to have a tough skin when you're in a creative field. A lot of people don't. That's why they give up. I don't want you to be one of those people. Art makes you happy, so that's what you should do. As for selling it, you have to believe in yourself. You have to believe you're a great artist. If you do, other people will too."

  "Do you believe you're a great artist?"

  "I tell myself I am, but I know I have a lot to learn. I'll be learning and practicing for the rest of my life. To me, being an artist is a journey. You change and grow and get better the longer you work at it. And it's not just your skill level, but how you change as a person. Your experiences. What you're going through at the time. It all affects your art. Mine's changed since meeting you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's richer. Has more depth. It's hard to explain, but you can see it when you compare the paintings I did last summer to the paintings I've done since school started."

  "Maybe it's because you're at college and living on your own in a new environment. "

  He smiles. "Would you just accept that you've affected me? And my art? In a good way?"

  I kiss him. "I love that we talk about art."

  "Me too. I never had anyone who would listen to me when I talked about this stuff."

  "Well, now you have me. For four whole years."

  "And then what?"

  I lie on my back and gaze up at the ceiling. "Then you'll be a famous artist with your work shown in galleries all over the world and you'll have no time to talk to me."

  He leans down and presses his lips to mine. "I'll always make time to talk to you." He kisses me again. "Always."

  My eyes remain on the ceiling. "You'll have a different girlfriend by then. She won't approve of us talking."

  "Why would I have a different girlfriend?"

  I look at him. "Four years from now? That's a long time."

  "In four years, I don't want a different girlfriend. I want the one I have right now."

  I smile. "You do?"

  He smiles back. "You're part of that plan I told your dad about. When I told him, I left out the part about you. I knew he wouldn't approve, given that we haven't dated that long."

  "Shouldn't you have talked to me before adding me to your plan?" I ask kiddingly.

  "It's just a plan. Like I said before, it may not work out, but you can still be in my plan."

  I can't believe we're talking about this, saying we're planning to be together in the future. I'm too young to talk about this. Then again, Willow got engaged at 17 and Garret got married at 19, but they're both crazy. That's way too young to be in a serious relationship with someone.

  "What are you thinking about?" Reed asks.

  "Nothing."

  "Did I scare you just now by telling you that? You can tell me. I'd understand if you felt that way. I kind of scared myself with that so..."

  "Why? What do you mean?"

  "When I came to college, I wasn't looking to get into a relationship. I have enough to deal with right now and I didn't want to bring someone into the mess that's my life. And I'm not good with relationships. I'm normally a very private person. I don't like people knowing things about me so I keep quiet and don't say much. But I'm not that way with you. For once, I feel like I have someone I can open up to, and although that's a good thing, it also kind of scares me."

  "
Why would it scare you?"

  "Because I'm trusting you. With everything. My secrets. My feelings. My heart. I'm not used to trusting people."

  "I'm not either."

  "Anyway, I didn't mean to freak you out with the whole plan thing. I guess it's just my way of telling you that I like having you in my life, as both a friend and a girlfriend."

  I smile at him. "I hope your plan works out."

  He smiles back. "I do too."

  We lie there a moment, each lost in our thoughts. He really opened up to me just now, which I didn't expect. But like he said, he's always been open with me so I shouldn't be surprised. When he talked about being a private person who keeps things to himself, it made me realize how similar we are. I'm exactly the same way, and yet I'm not when I'm with him. I feel the same way he does. Like I finally have someone to talk to. Someone I can trust.

  "You hungry?" he asks.

  "Yeah, but let's just eat in the dining hall. I have to work on my painting tonight. I was wondering if you could maybe help me. I'm struggling on part of it."

  "Sure. Whatever you need." He stands up and helps me off the bed.

  "You're like my own personal art tutor."

  "Then I guess you'll have to keep me around." He kisses me and takes my hand. "Come on. Let's go."

  That night, I have trouble sleeping. I keep thinking about Preston, worried he's going to try to do something to get back at me for getting him in trouble. He didn't really get in trouble, but I'm sure he didn't want his father knowing he got in a fight. Then again, after meeting my dad, Preston is probably afraid to attempt any kind of revenge. Even Reed was afraid of my dad.

  The front door slams and I hop out of bed and sneak out of my room. I walk down the hall until I can see the foyer just below. The house is dark, but there's a lamp on in the foyer and I can see my dad standing there next to the door. He yanks his phone from his suit pants and dials a number.

  "I am NOT doing that again," he says in a hushed, angry tone. "That is the absolute last time!"

  My dad turns in my direction and I see some kind of stains on his white dress shirt. I crouch down and peek through the railing, trying to get a better look, but he turns back the other way, the phone still in his hand.

  "She had no knowledge of his involvement. She was an innocent. A wife. A mother. And now she's dead!"

  I gasp, then quickly cover my mouth, hoping he didn't hear me. His head drops and he rubs his forehead. "I won't do this again. Not another innocent." He listens to whoever's talking, then says, "You think I don't fucking know that? But it doesn't have to be this way. I've had five assignments so far this year and three were innocents. Three!" He turns my way, still on the phone, and I get a better look at his shirt. The stains are blood. His shirt is splattered with blood. Why is his shirt splattered with blood?!

  I scoot back from the railing and notice I'm shaking. Goosebumps run up and down both my arms.

  My dad walks from the foyer into the living room. "Did my father arrange for this?" He listens and then, "Was it Katherine's father?" He sits down on the couch. "You can tell me whatever story you want but I know either Leland or my father had a say in this and I will be speaking with both of them. Three in a matter of six months? It's completely unheard of. No other member has ever had that many. I've more than met my quota and I am NOT doing it again." He yanks his tie loose. "I'm not a goddamn idiot. I am quite aware that I'm unable to get out. But they are never getting Garret. Not now. Not ever!" He slams his phone down on the table and sits back on the couch, rubbing his hand over his face.

  "Pearce!" I hear my mom whisper. She's coming down the hall so fast she doesn't notice me sitting here. She races down the stairs and goes up to my dad. "What is going on down here? I can hear you all the way upstairs! You're going to wake up Lilly!"

  He rubs his forehead. "Go to bed, Katherine. I've had to deal with enough tonight. I'm not dealing with you too."

  She yanks on his sleeve. "Your shirt is filthy! You're going to get it on the furniture."

  He stands up, towering over her tiny frame as he takes his suit jacket off.

  "What are you doing?" my mom asks. "Go undress upstairs."

  He says nothing as he unbuttons his shirt and takes it off. He shoves it in her hand. "Give it to your father. Tell him if he makes me do this again, it'll be his blood next time."

  He storms to his office, which is just off the foyer.

  I bolt up in bed, my heart pounding. It was just a dream. But a dream I've had before, many, many times. I've had these dreams since I was a little girl and they're always the same. My dad coming home with blood on his shirt. Talking about people being dead. Sometimes I see a gun in his hand. Sometimes he says something about Garret. Sometimes he talks about my grandfathers. Sometimes my mom is there. Those pieces of the dream vary, but what's always the same is my dad, with blood on his shirt.

  Why would I dream that? And why don't the dreams ever stop? Why would I dream such horrible things about my own father? I love my dad, so why do I keep having these horrible dreams about him?

  I check the clock and see it's after eight. As I get out of bed, my phone rings. It's my dad. A chill runs through me and I'm quickly ashamed of my reaction. It's my dad. I'm not scared of my dad.

  "Hey, Dad," I say, trying to sound calm and upbeat.

  "Hello, honey. I just wanted to call and make sure that Preston hasn't bothered you since I had that talk with his father."

  "No. He hasn't bothered me. I haven't even seen him."

  "How's your chin?"

  "It's a lot better."

  He chuckles. "Regardless, Rachel is using your injury as an excuse to send you a care package. It should be there in a day or so."

  "She didn't need to do that but tell her thank you. Or I'll just call and tell her myself."

  "I need to get going. I have a meeting to get to with Garret but I just wanted to call and check in before I left. If Preston gives you any kind of trouble, call me right away. I'll take care of it."

  "Okay. Bye, Dad."

  He hangs up and I realize I'm being completely ridiculous thinking my dreams are anything close to reality. My dad would never hurt anyone. So why do I keep having those dreams? I'm ashamed that I do and wish I could make them stop.

  As the week continues, my dad calls every day to make sure Preston isn't bothering me. He isn't. In fact, I haven't even seen him all week. Usually I pass him while walking to Reed's dorm since it's right next to the one Preston lives in. But it's now Saturday and I'm walking to Reed's dorm and I still don't see Preston anywhere. Maybe he got a new girlfriend and he's staying at her place.

  "You ready to go?" I ask Reed as I stand at his door. We're going to the beach for the day. He's going to surf and I'm going to lay out in the sun. I probably won't go in the water. I don't really like swimming in the ocean. There are too many things floating around in there.

  "Yeah, I'm ready." He brings me into his room and kisses me. "It feels good to finally be here on a weekend." He kisses me again. "And spend it with you."

  He's wearing board shorts but he's shirtless. He must've just showered because his hair is damp and he smells fresh and clean. He has a sexy layer of stubble along his face, and that, combined with the sight of his muscular chest, is turning me on.

  I smile up at him. "Maybe we should spend a few minutes here before we go."

  He smiles back. "Let's save that for later or we'll never leave." He gazes down at my beach cover-up. It's mesh so he can see my bikini underneath it. "It's damn tempting though. We better get out of here."

  He puts on a t-shirt and grabs his surfboard, then takes my hand and we go outside. The cooler and snacks and other beach supplies are already in his Jeep.

  I've been looking forward to this all week. Like Reed said, it's good to finally be able to spend a weekend together. And today is the perfect day to go to the beach. It's warm and sunny with clear skies.

  "This'll be fun," I say, swinging our arms as we walk.


  He stops and leans down to kiss me. "Did I say how beautiful you look today?"

  I laugh. "No."

  "Well, you do. And I love your suit."

  "It's pink." I pull the shoulder of my cover-up down and show him the bright pink strap.

  He smiles. "Yeah, I noticed. I love the pink."

  We keep walking, and as we exit the campus gate, I hear someone yelling Reed's name.

  "Reed! Over here!"

  I turn and see a woman waving at us. She's wearing a short denim skirt and neon green tank top. She's shorter than me and really skinny and has long stringy black hair.

  Reed abruptly stops. His head is down and he's squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck."

  "Reed! Turn around! It's your momma."

  He opens his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. "What the fuck is she doing here?"

  "That's your mom?"

  "Yes," he says through gritted teeth. He turns around as she hurries toward us, her giant gold purse swinging around her shoulder.

  "Reed, didn't you hear me calling you?" She stumbles on her white high heels before coming to a stop.

  "Yes. I heard you. What are you doing here?"

  "I came to see you. Sorry I wasn't around last weekend. Ray wanted to go to a rodeo out in the desert. We got back on Sunday but you were already gone. I wanted to make it up to you so I decided to make a surprise visit." She holds her arms out and smiles. "Surprise!"

  There's bright red lipstick on her front teeth. She has on way too much makeup. Blue eyeshadow. Heavy black eyeliner. Caked-on foundation. And those bright red lips. I hate to say this, but with her makeup and clothes, she kind of looks like a prostitute. And I think she's been drinking. She wasn't walking very straight when she approached us.

  "How did you get here?" Reed asks. "You don't have a car."

  Reed told me his uncle got rid of his mom's car because she kept driving drunk, so now she has to take the bus everywhere.

  "I took Robby's car."