“Grow up, Maya,” I retort in jest, still smiling as she follows me down the stairs.
She giggles. “You want to kisssss her, you want to loooove her, you want to—”
I spin around and point at her before we reach the kitchen door. “Do not finish that sentence.”
She smirks, edging away from me. “Make babiesss.”
Before I can get ahold of her, she dodges around me and flies through the kitchen door, me on her tail. As soon as we enter the room, I pick her up and Mom and Amelia swivel around on the bench.
“What on earth are you two doing?” Mom asks.
I immediately place Maya on the floor and step away from her, my gaze falling on Amelia’s amused expression. “She started it.”
Mom stands and walks over to the stove. “You’d think being thirty-two years old you’d have grown up a little by now, but no. You’re your father’s child that’s for sure.”
Amelia stands up, walking toward me, her eyes alight with laughter. Standing next to me, she turns and smiles big and wide at Maya. “Hey, Maya.”
Maya raises a hand in a small wave. “Hey.” She smirks at me before looking back at Amelia. “You’re my brother’s girlfriend?”
I tilt my head down at the same time Amelia looks up at me. Her eyes shine bright, her lips pulled up into what seems like a permanent smile. I get lost in her eyes, my hand reaching out for her and interlocking our fingers.
Turning my body closer to Amelia’s, I forget about everyone in the room, and from the way her gaze flicks down to my lips and back, I’m guessing she does, too.
Lifting my other hand, I skim it up and over her arm, relishing in the goose bumps spreading over her skin at my touch.
“Ewww! Stop being all heart eye emojis with each other!”
“Maya, leave them alone,” Mom admonishes.
“What?” She walks over to the table, sliding onto the bench and pulling out her cell. “Amelia, are you on Facebook? I’ll add you now.”
Turning away from Amelia, I cough to gain Maya’s attention but she ignores me on purpose, keeping her gaze on Amelia’s.
“I’m not,” Amelia answers, her voice small as she shuffles her feet on the floor. “I’m not into the whole social media thing.”
Maya’s eyes goes wide. “No Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, or Tumblr either?”
“Maybug, stop pestering Amelia,” I groan but I’m waiting to hear her answer too.
“No, it’s okay,” Amelia says, stepping forward as she sits opposite Maya. “I have Pinterest, but it’s where I keep all of my recipes,” she offers.
Maya’s attention is immediately sucked into her phone as she types furiously. “I can’t find you, what’s your last name?”
“Maya,” I grind out, walking over to the table and sitting beside Amelia.
“Ahh, I’m under Cookieaddict123.” Amelia looks down at her hands on the table.
I watch her go from open to the nervous person she was back in the car and I frown as Maya says, “Found you! Next time you should just go with your name though, it makes it easier for people to find you.”
Amelia’s muscles tense and she dodges mine and Maya’s gazes. “I… well… erm…” Her throat bobs up and down, silence stretching around us as she gathers herself. “I made it with Izzie and she suggested the name.”
“Wow, you have a lot of cookie recipes on here,” Maya states, ignoring what Amelia said.
I seem to be the only one that’s noticed her change in behavior, and perhaps to someone that doesn’t know her her behavior could be chalked up to nerves. But I know her better than that. Those nerves from meeting my family were gone, this seems like she’s acting strange for a totally different reason.
Could it be because Maya is searching on social media for her? What is she hiding? Or there could be a completely different explanation for her change in mood. Either way, I’ll be asking her about it later on.
Her head turns marginally, but her eyes don’t focus on mine. I know she can feel me watching her and is aware I’ll have questions, but now isn’t the right time to ask.
“Honey, I’m home!” Dad calls from the front door and it snaps me out of my thoughts.
I laugh at his saying that I seem to have picked up every time I walk into a house.
“Mick, we’re all in the kitchen,” Mom calls.
Amelia leans toward me, this time looking me in the eyes as she whispers, “Your dad’s name is Mick?”
“Well, it’s Michael but my mom calls him Mick. Why?”
She quirks her lip up, her mood flipping once again. “Mel, Mick, Maya… and Nate?”
I frown. “I have to say, I’m a little confused where you’re going with this.”
Just as Amelia begins to talk, Maya interrupts. “You’re the odd one out, stupid.”
Amelia bursts out laughing and Maya smirks, pretty proud of herself.
“What’s so funny? What have I missed?” Dad asks, walking through the kitchen door and kissing Mom passionately.
I turn away to give them some privacy, looking back when a hand lands on my shoulder. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, son.” I watch his reaction as his gaze falls on Amelia. “And who is this beautiful woman?”
Clearing my throat, I’m about to tell him when Maya singsongs, “It’s his giirrrlfriend!”
I shoot her a look I hope says, “Really?” before turning toward Amelia. “Dad, this is Amelia, you’ve met her briefly at Charlotte’s Christmas parties.”
“I have? Oh, I’m sorry, you must think I’m so rude.”
“No.” She waves her arm in the air. “Those parties are always hectic and I’m usually running around after Izzie.” She laughs, the tinkling sound bouncing off the walls. “She’s always starting up conversations with random people.”
“She’s quite the little character that’s for sure,” Dad replies, sitting down beside Maya. “Hello, youngest child of mine.” Maya gives him a grunt. “I hope you greeted our guest with more enthusiasm.”
I chuckle as Mom walks over and sits down beside Dad. “We’re getting better at deciphering her caveman grunts.”
“Whatever,” Maya mumbles, smiling at Amelia. “They don’t remember what it feels like to have a life.”
“There’s life outside of your phone,” Dad interjects.
“Yes, but all of my friends are on social media, Dad. You get it, Amelia, you’re young.”
I splutter out a cough. “Maya, that’s rude.”
“What? She is young; younger than you three anyway.”
Amelia smiles softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I get what it’s like to be a teenage girl, it was only ten years ago I was your age.” She leans forward, hooking her thumb in my direction and lowering her voice. “It must be hard with an older brother like that.”
Mom and Dad chuckle but I scoff. “Hey! I object!”
Dad laughs. “On what grounds?”
“I…” I point at Maya and Amelia. “On the grounds that I don’t like being ganged up on by my sister and girlfriend.”
“Overruled,” Moms jokes, making us all laugh.
“Not my fault she likes me better than you already.” Maya sticks her tongue out at me before looking at Amelia. “Us girls gotta stick together.”
“Too right, as the Spice Girls said...” She lifts her palm up toward Maya for a high five. “Girl power.”
Maya slaps her palm against Amelia’s hand but her face screws up. “What’s the Spice Girls?”
Mom gets up from the table and I stand to help her get plates out of the cupboard.
“What?” I hear Amelia splutter, and when I take a quick look back, her mouth is hanging open. “You… you don’t know who the Spice Girls are?”
I carry the plates over to the table at the same time as Mom places dishes of food in the middle with serving spoons to help ourselves.
“If it’s not Justin Bieber or some weird indie band, I’m not sure she’s heard of it,” I say.
>
“Oh, God,” Amelia groans. “Izzie just found out about Justin Bieber and it’s all she wants to listen to.” She looks back at Maya, demanding, “I really need to introduce you to the Spice Girls.”
Maya shrugs, picking her phone up off the table. “I’ll Spotify them.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Dad says plucking her cell out of her hands and placing it into the basket Mom holds out toward us all.
I pull my cell out of my pocket as Maya sighs and put it in the basket. Amelia stares at me like she’s lost and I chuckle. “No electronics allowed at the table. Family rule.”
“Oh.” She pulls her own cell out. “I only have two people who ever contact me regularly and you’re one of them.” She laughs, placing it into the basket.
“What about your mom and dad? Don’t they call you?” Maya asks innocently, spooning chicken onto her tortilla wrap.
I wait on bated breath for her answer, wanting to know myself. She’s mentioned her parents briefly before but never said anything about contact with them.
“I talk to them every now and again,” she replies distantly, grabbing one of the spoons. “They’re both really busy so we don’t talk often.” There’s a hitch in her voice, but if I wasn’t paying so much attention to her I wouldn’t have noticed.
“What do they do for a living?” Mom asks, placing salad into her wrap.
“My dad is the sheriff in the town I grew up in and when I moved away, Mom went back into nursing. So between the two of them, neither are rarely home.”
“Your dad’s a sheriff?” I ask curiously.
She finishes making her own wrap, folding it over before she answers, “He is. Has been since before I was born.”
I like that she’s opening up, even if it is just a snippet into her private life.
“What does he think about you dating a lawyer?” Dad asks.
I bite into my fajita knowing the underlying question. Cops, unless we’re on their side, don’t take a liking to lawyers. I mean, I get it, we pick apart their cases and make them look like amateurs sometimes.
“I… well…” Her eyes connect with mine and I see the apprehension in their depths. “I haven’t spoken to my dad for a little while. But…” She turns back to face my dad. “Either way, they live a long way from here, so…” She leaves it hanging in the air, staring down at her plate as she goes inside her own head.
I can see she’s starting to get uncomfortable from the subject so I steer it onto something completely different. “Mom, this is delicious as always.”
“It really is,” Amelia says, jumping on my subject change. “I see where you get your cooking skills from.”
“I learned from the best,” I quip, smiling at Mom. “Lia is incredible at baking.”
“Oh really?” Her gaze falls on Amelia. “You’ll have to give me some of your recipes. I don’t bake often, but Mick has a sweet tooth.”
“Of course.” Amelia tilts her head to the basket containing the cells. “I log all of them onto my Pinterest, but I have a book at home too. I love creating new ones.”
They both fall into easy conversation about inventing their own recipes and ways to do things as Dad turns toward me. “I heard Joe Kent fell into a bit of a predicament with that godawful wife of his.”
I nod. “I knew from the moment I saw it on TV that he was innocent, there’s always been something not quite right about Anastasia.”
“Apart from her being a money grabber?”
“Michael!” Mom interjects.
“I’m sorry, hon, but she is and always has been. Not to mention she’s twenty-three years younger than him so she pulled the wool right over his eyes.”
Mom tuts and turns back toward Amelia as I chuckle and catch Dad’s attention again by saying, “I put our investigators on it and they found out she hired a guy to rough her up and claim it was Joe.”
“Well I’ll be... I didn’t think she was smart enough for something that elaborate.”
“She’s not. She didn’t cover her tracks very well so we won the case without it going to court.” I take a bite of my fajita, looking over at Mom and Amelia who are still deep in conversation.
“Hey,” Dad whispers. I look over at him and he motions toward Amelia. “You have a good one.”
“That I do,” I mumble to no one in particular as she tips her head back on a laugh. That I do.
Lifting up off the sofa in the living room of the main house, I stretch out my arms above my head, relishing in the stretch of my muscles. I cover my eyes with my hand to ward off the bright rays of sun as they shine through the large window.
I watch the sun rise in the distance for several seconds before shuffling through to the kitchen and heading outside toward the pool house to get changed.
It’s not the first time I’ve crashed on the sofa in the main house, only this time it wasn’t an accident.
“Hey, Tris,” I say as Tris walks into the kitchen. He looks over at me, scanning my pajamas and my face sans makeup before he stops at the hair that’s in a messy bun on the top of my head.
I lift my cup of cocoa and he chuckles. “You and cocoa.” He shakes his head, a smirk on his face. “You’re such an old lady.”
He pulls his cell out as I gasp, “I am not!” My hand flies to my chest in mock outrage. “Cocoa is good for you, it settles you for the night.” I move closer when he frowns, standing beside him. “Tris?” I ask in concern.
“It’s Harmony,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion.
“So, talk to her,” I reply flippantly, pulling out the chair next to him as I sit in silence.
He stares at his cell for a few long minutes, seeming to be at war with himself.
Finally he says, “I have to—”
Cutting him off, I wave him away. “Go. Go and get your girl.” I smile as he leaves the kitchen, hoping this will be the turning point with him because Harmony is good for both Tris and the kids.
Opening up the back door, I yawn big and loud before walking over the stones, my eyelids half closed. Reaching out for the door handle as I open my eyes fully, my toes slam into something on the floor.
My breath starts to saw in and out of me, my hands shaking as I slowly look down. I know what I’m going to see before I do, and when I spot the same sticker on the side, the reprieve and safeness I’ve been feeling lately disappears.
Pushing open the pool house door, I pick the package up before walking inside and sitting on the sofa at an angle so I can keep my eyes on the house. Tristan still isn’t home and hasn’t answered my message yet.
Swallowing against my dry throat, I pick up the scissors off the coffee table, swiping them against the tape and lifting the edges of the cardboard.
The same black tissue paper appears, and I gingerly lift it, nerves batting around my stomach as I try to prepare myself for what is in there, but when my fingers land on the edges of another box, I squeeze my eyes shut.
For weeks now I haven’t had a package and I almost forgot what it feels like and the terror that runs through me when I receive one. But like last time, I know whoever it is was here because it was left at the pool house door.
Goose bumps break out all over my skin as I look at the gate, my stomach flipping when I do, almost as if I’m expecting someone to be there.
My nostrils flare as I stare at it for a minute longer before turning my attention back to the package. I drop the larger box on the floor before flicking my gaze back up to the main house to make sure no lights are on.
Once I know no one will come out, I place the smaller wooden box on my knees, slowly lifting the lid and pulling out a USB drive and a photograph.
The photo shakes in my hands as I look closer, my skin becoming slick with sweat when I see what—or who it is.
Me, Clay, and Izzie, sitting on the sand at the edge of Nate’s lake. The horror I’m feeling at being watched at Nate’s house where I thought we were safe isn’t what has me panicking. No, it’s the fact that all of our faces
are crossed out, only our bodies left that has me fearing for the kids. I stand up, my gaze flicking back to the house as I take a step toward it unconsciously.
Flipping the photo over, my eyes widen. “No, no, no!”
My other hand covers my mouth, trying to muffle my chant as I read the words over and over again: BETH + CHILDREN = DEATH.
This can’t be happening. Oh God, I thought I was protecting them, keeping them safe, but I’m not. I’m putting them in danger simply by being around them. This has to stop. It has to.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t put the people I love the most at risk.
A plan is already starting to form in my head as I stand up, about to flick the lid of the wooden box closed when my gaze lands on the USB again. Plucking it out, I’m about to grab my laptop to see what’s on it when the back door to the main house opens, causing me to jump out of my skin until I see a head of messed-up blond hair.
“Amelia?”
“Coming, Izzie!” Closing my hand around the USB, I walk to the door of the pool house, watching as she rubs her eyes. “I’m just going to get changed, go ahead and sit at the table.”
“Okay,” she whispers, her sleepy body turning around slowly.
Seeing her sweet little face and sleepy blue eyes, makes the decision for me. I’m not doing this anymore—I won’t be used as a pawn, I won’t allow them to do this to the people I care about.
I run around the pool house, getting changed and brushing my teeth before shoving the USB in my jeans pocket and heading back to the main house.
I try my hardest to act normal, even when Tris messages to say he’s on his way home but that doesn’t make me feel any better because it won’t be long before he’s taking the kids to their art class and I’ll be all alone again.
Alone. The thought terrifies me.
Maybe it’s time I tell Nate: open up to him completely. If I explained it all to him then I know he wouldn’t judge me, he’d help, I’m sure of that.
Making up my mind, I decide that when Tris and the kids have left, I’ll go to him and start at the beginning, telling him everything. Just thinking about telling him about everything that happened six years ago has my palms sweating, but it also has a relief flowing through me I didn’t think I’d feel.
Fighting Our Way Page 22