Guilt. I can see it in her eyes when I open mine to stare at her. But it’s not her fault. At the time when everything went to shit, she had her own stuff going on, how could she jump in and be a mother that Amanda failed to be?
“I don’t hate you and I certainly don’t hold anything against you, Christina. I knew times were hard for you then.” I say softly.
“Doesn’t excuse me though.” She murmurs and I look to Noah, lost for words and I notice that he’s standing very still by the counter, facing away from us. What he is thinking must be echoing the guilt that his mother is feeling now.
“Seriously, how could you have known what was happening then?” I question.
I mean, I was sent away like a dirty secret that my mother never wanted to face or confront and Denise was all but willing to shell out all the necessary resources to see to it that I’m sent away.
“It just. . .happened.” I finish, pressing a hand to my stomach to ease the twisting nerves.
“Still, everything that happened to you must have aged you.” She says, and then extends the flask my way again. “You sure you don’t want some? It might help with the more difficult and heavy stuff.” She says, taking a sip of her liquor/cocoa.
“What could be heavier than finding out your mother had Denise King get rid of your sister, then she dumped you and your brother at an orphanage, leaving you there for two years?” I question, my voice flat. “What can possibly be heavier than that?”
“The fact that Denise and Amanda were best friends that met and grew up in an orphanage together?” Noah questions matter-of-factly, turning around to face us. He’s holding a slice of rye bread in one hand and a butter knife in the other.
“What?” I breathe out.
Everything in me literally halts to a stop and I swear I can hear the screeching of tires from a speeding car somewhere in the distance or maybe I just imagined it but all the noise has nothing on the way my heart just stopped or the way I feel the heavy press of my lungs as they suck all the life in me and hold it in.
“What? That’s impossible and you must be mistaken. My mother didn’t know Denise before we moved here.” I start rambling, thoughts in my head racing hundred miles a second as I search my memory of any indication that the two women knew each other.
“I mean, Amanda did her best to try and be in Denise’s presence.” I explain, remembering the way my mother always seemed to want to impress Denise, who in turn never gave Amanda the time of day.
“I bet she doesn’t want any of that attention on her anymore.” Noah laughs as he turns around to finish making his sandwich.
“I don’t believe this.” I breathe out, hardly able to believe or even see my mother and Denise knowing each other. Let alone that they grew up in an orphanage together. Forget that those two evil, conniving witches were actually friends at some point. I just can’t see it.
“Yeah, I said the same thing when I found out.” Christina says with a solemn expression on her face that warns of heavier conversation topics that warrant the alcohol.
“There is no way those two could have been. . .” I start.
“Sisters?” Noah finishes for me.
“Yeah.” I say after I try to swallow a ball of nerves. I can feel a cold shake start from my feet, traveling up the rest of my body, threatening to break me.
“No, they aren’t. Not biological at least.” Noah says with a chuckle. “Could you imagine it if they were sisters though? Shit no, I don’t even want to think about it with you bumping uglies with my boy. . .shit.”
“Shut up Noah, you’re sending Astraea into shock.” Christina says and I just try to breathe.
I’m alright. Everything is alright.
“If. . .” I start but I choke and start coughing. Noah comes up behind me and starts rubbing my back like how he or George used to do whenever I choked on something.
I clear my throat and start again, looking at Christina.
“If they are not biological sisters, then what were they?” I question.
“Well, they kind of just met at the home and became really close friends, inseparable really.” She explains.
“But I have grandparents. I mean, my father, uh Richard’s parents passed away ten years ago in a car crash. But my mother has. . .”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry Astraea but you don’t really have grandparents.”
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Kill me now.
“Oh God.” I tense all over and Noah looks down at me concerned. But Christina continues.
“As far as I know, when I dug around for myself. . .”
“After snooping around my room whenever the boys were here, you mean.” Noah rolls his eyes, exasperated by his mother.
“This is my house.” Christina waves a hand to shush Noah and then she looks at me. “Yeah, I loitered and listened to the boys talking but whatever, I’m glad I did or I wouldn’t have hired a P.I to look into Denise King.”
“I thought you looked into my mother.” I ask, with a frown that now seems to be permanently etched on my face. Urgh, talk about aging and wrinkles.
“I was going to do just that but believe it or not, it’s almost like your mother never existed before.” Christina says.
Huh?
“Amanda Fields recently showed up the day she was legally married to Richard.”
“What?”
This time, Noah and I speak at the same time.
“Oh, you didn’t know that part?” Christina questions Noah with a look of surprise on her own face.
“The fuck would I know that!” He says, a look of bewildered shock on his face, probably mirroring mine.
“Well, I did hire the best P.I in the world, so. . .” Christina says, taking a sip of her punched hot chocolate.
“I have to call the boys for this.” Noah says.
“Why? What is happening?” Christina questions, now looking alarmed and I realize, as Noah hesitates, that she doesn’t know about the threats the boys have been receiving. Probably because Noah is trying to protect her.
“Uh, things have just been weird since losing my brother, Christina and I’ve just been questioning almost everything.” I quickly say but Christina is a sharp one.
“Yeah, I’ve been questioning that too. George was too smart for that shit and the way you three boys have been on high alert since before that makes me feel that something isn’t quite right here. The way you hired your own security. . .”
“Wait how do you know about the security?” Noah questions her. “They were supposed to be discreet.”
They failed at that, obviously. Is there security on me too? I know Ace admitted to having security detail on me when I was in London. I doubt he would do that here though.
“Uh, how do you think I know Hank?” She fires back, with a twinkle in her eyes as she drinks her hot chocolate.
My eyes widen. Hank is actually real? I thought he was made up.
“Hank is one of the guys I pay to watch you and he’s been boning you?” Noah’s face grows so red, he could pass as a ripe, ready to harvest tomato, albeit a chiseled and drop dead handsome tomato.
“Oh shit.” Christina breathes and then shoots me a wink. “You weren’t meant to know.”
And she shoots and she scores. Again!
“Mom!”
“I’m joking. Relax before you give yourself a heart-attack.”
“I don’t mind having a coronary if it means I don’t have to deal with all of this bullshit.” He grumbles, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Language.” She chides, swatting his arm.
“Sorry, but I have to call the guys to come over. Mom, this is important and that was a shitty joke.” Noah says and then he leaves the kitchen, iphone in hand, fingers typing lightning fast.
My tummy quivers and shifts with the thought of Emmett and Ace in the same room. Have they seen each other since almost ending each other’s lives on Friday night?
/>
Also what was that all about?
But I don’t have time to dwell on it because the next thing I know, Christina starts talking again, pulling me back into the present.
“It was George who discovered that your grandparents—those who posed to be Amanda’s family—were actually paid actors.” She says.
Seriously, what kind of fiction is this?
“Why would my mother do that? Why go to all these lengths just to have our grandparents show up during some Christmases. Forget Thanksgiving, there was always a ball somewhere in the world that she would rather attend.” I mumble, feeling perplexed.
“From what my P.I could find—by the way, the P.I is Hank.” She whispers conspiratorially, looking over her shoulder towards the door, checking for signs of her short-tempered son.
“He is real after all?”
“You’re damn right he is. A woman has needs. You know, the type of needs that battery-operated-boyfriends cannot fulfill.” She says, fanning herself.
“Okay. . . paid actors?” I start, my cheeks flaming with that TMI.
“Oh, sorry. I think Amanda only hired them to impress Richard’s parents.”
I frown. My mother doesn’t give a rat’s ass about impressing anyone, let alone Richard’s parents. Hell, they never really liked each other and in the end, we saw them less and less.
“Why would she do that?” I question.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I sense him before I see him. I feel him before I hear him. I close my eyes as the tingly senses that I always attribute as my Ace radar starts raising the hairs at the back of my neck. Goosebumps grace my arms and I sigh, taking a deep breath and holding it in as I feel his hard, unyielding gaze set directly. On. Me.
“Because at the time, Richard’s father was a Senator for the state of California, giving him power and connections to our little town of Westbrook Blues.” His rough voice rumbles with sarcasm, taking no prisoners—well, maybe my cracking heart and my soul. . .
I take in a deep breath, open my eyes and turn to the sound of his voice. Our gazes immediately collide as if he was waiting for me to look at him.
Starved.
Hungry.
Angry.
Deep.
Mine. . .
And to think I haven’t seen him since Friday night.
He strides into the kitchen and I can’t help but admire the way he’s wearing the hell out of those expensive yet simple all black clothing that I want to tear apart and navigate his utterly seductive, masculine body of a quarterback who can’t be identified as a boy. There’s nothing boyish about Ace.
I take him in from his black trainers, black sweatpants, his black hoody with the arms pulled back to show his muscular, thick, sexy arms that I want to hold me but I’m still mad at him. I roam his face, from his lips that weaken my knees, his chiseled nose and cheeks and. . . he’s got a black eye to match his apparel.
“What, you ran into a pole?” Christina says with a frown, watching him as well.
“You should see the damn pole.” He says with a little smirk, making Christina giggle but his eyes are still on me, seeming to take me in as I did him. “Hey Christina.”
Charming? Yeah, the devil can be the most charming person with a disarming, panty melting smile to match. But he was still the devil.
“Well hello there your highness, thank you for finally gracing my home.” Christina says, rolling her eyes at Ace as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. Christina is dear to the boys and to me, for obvious reasons.
She’s real. In this town, that’s as rare as freaking unicorns.
“Are you mad at me or something?” Ace questions her as he moves towards me, his eyes now back on me like they are magnets. And I can’t stop watching him. The way he moves. The way he talks. The way he knows what he’s doing to me without even saying a word.
He comes to stop right beside where I’m seated at the edge of the bench. From the corner of my eye, I see his thick hand reach out for me and I tense, waiting with bated breath and anticipation for whatever he’s going to do.
He reaches for my hip and taps there twice, his fingers lingering close. I look up and meet his gaze again, noticing a calculating, hard glint in his eyes.
Someone’s in a foul mood today. Well, join the club.
“You’re damn right I’m mad. You boys think you’re grown and can’t make time for me. At least pop in every few days and say hello.” Christina complains, then takes a sip of her hot chocolate. By now, mine is cold and forgotten.
“Sorry, Christina.” Ace says, his voice getting lower and colder with each second that passes, looking down at me as his large hand starts moving from my hip to my thigh and back, all without missing a beat with Christina. “But I thought you were out of town.”
“Who said I. . . Noah!” She shouts as she gets up. “Please excuse me, I’ll be right back to finish this conversation. Hot chocolate when I’m back?” She asks.
“As long as you add whatever you put in yours in mine, yes please.” He says politely but there is nothing polite about the way he is touching me under the table or the way he’s making me feel.
“Ha! You were always a smart one!” Christina gushes and then she leaves and I suddenly wish that I could go with her. “Noah!” She calls as she goes.
Please don’t go. I don’t want to stay with this brooding jerk.
Silences stretches in the large kitchen. I can hear my own breathing and I can feel Ace’s tense body beside me but I refuse to look at him. I don’t want to acknowledge him or make him think that what he did was okay. It’s more than just the fight with Emmett, it’s all of these. . .secrets. I don’t want to talk to him. Even though his hand is so damn close to my inner thigh and I’m now shivering for a whole other reason than finding out my mother never really existed until recently.
How recent. I don’t know.
“You’re not good at giving anyone the silent treatment, Star. You’re too fired up to even sit still.” His voice rumbles and I close my eyes. He’s right.
“I’m sorry, I don’t talk to liars.” I say, my voice hard. Then I dismiss him again, giving him the cold shoulder.
“Careful Star, that coldness will freeze you up and destroy you if you toy with it.”
“More than I am already?” I grit out, blinking away my tears.
He sighs then, as if he knows that I’m losing my resolve. Then in the same breath, he reaches for me and this time, lifts me up from the bench.
“What the fuck.” I welp. “Put me down.”
“In a second.” He quietly says as he takes a seat with me in his arms, and then I’m seated on his lap, with his thick arm around my waist, my back smashed into his solid chest.
“You’re not broken.” He grunts, his voice sounding like a delicious rumble that moves through my entire body, I can’t help but shiver.
His quiet intensity always gets me, but this right now, affects me in a way I can’t really describe to anyone even if I wanted to. He has this fierce, brooding, angry vibe about him that I know he won’t let go anytime soon, judging by the way his body is tense, coiled tight like a cobra as if he is ready to strike—but then it’s mixed with this gentleness that makes my body tremble in anticipation. The same gentleness he showed me on Friday night when we drove to the site where my brother had the freaking accident.
That gentleness disarms me, making me melt into him completely.
“You’re not broken and you are definitely not her.” He says, speaking into my ear, pushing away my short, unevenly cut hair like it doesn’t bother him at all.
I close my eyes. I don’t have to explain to him what I wanted to do or why I cut my hair or what had happened. From the moment he walked in, he looked at me as if he was looking through my soul, piecing together the way my mind works. No one reaches me like he does, reaching into the deepest, darkest and unknown parts of my core the way he does.
“I hate her.” I seethe in a whisper. “I hate her so
much and I look like her.” I say.
“That doesn’t mean you are anything like your mother.” He says, holding me to him, stopping my body from shaking. Stopping me from drowning within myself.
Ace and I. . . somehow, we are both in a fucked up, deep and dark place together. Broken and fucked up parental units. Disturbing abuse.
Neglect.
Pain.
Loss.
Us.
“We got each other, baby.” He kisses my ear, then my neck, still brooding but even then, he wants to calm me down. Soothe me. Just simply being there for me.
“And yet, here we are. Thanks to Denise and her own axe to grind. Great job to her by the way.” I bite out, feeling bitter. “Utterly brilliant.”
But before he can respond, Emmett walks into the kitchen. Silent.
Watching.
Calculating.
Easy.
Ready.
Not tense at all, but we all know better, he is down for anything. His large gait moves just as silently as his persona. I take him in as he walks, my breath hitching in as I scan his face.
He has a black eye matching the one on Ace’s face, a cut lip and a bruise at his temple.
Oh God.
“Hey.” I breathe, watching him. He looks at me, then on whose lap I’m seated and then back at me again.
“Hey beautiful. Nice hair.” He says, watching me and I snort as I get up, much to Ace’s grunting but boohoo for him.
“I’m alright. Are you okay?” I whisper as I walk towards him, meeting him halfway.
Emmett is just one of a kind. Like he is truly rare. You won’t ever find his type of bad boy yet good at the same time and the twisting in my chest tells me that I can’t let him slip through my fingers because that’s what I feel right now.
It feels like I’m losing him and I don’t even know it.
“He’s fine.” Ace grumbles from behind us.
“No one’s talking to you.” I say over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off of Emmett for one second.
What is going on with you, Em?
“Yeah, it was nothing.” He says, rubbing his jaw as he looks over my shoulder.
Vicious Hate (Westbrook Blues Book 2) Page 16