“What do you want to eat?” He marches ahead of me into a kitchen. I think it’s the size of the entire first floor of my house, and probably a thousand times the price.
“Whatever you’re having.”
He opens up the refrigerator, pulls out two bottles of Gatorade, hands me one, and sits down beside me. A second later, a man enters. I get such a fright I jump slightly and let out a small shriek, nearly falling off the seat. Kingsley laughs and steadies me.
“What’s up, Nick?” Kingsley says. Nick? I remember him mentioning that name at the restaurant.
A tall, slim man, with jet black hair, and the brightest of smiles walks around to the sink. “Hello, Hamish.” He then turns to me, and Kingsley quickly says, “This is Maddison.”
He smiles at me. “Nice to meet you, Maddison.”
I smile back. They look nothing alike.
“Hamish?” I whisper, and he nods. I’ve always wondered what his first name was. I like it.
“The usual?” Nick asks, and then I click. Nick is a chef? His chef? I concentrate on keeping my jaw from dropping.
“For two.”
Nick gets straight to work. “So what did Hamish do to get such a pretty young lady around here?”
“Apart from my charm and good looks—”
I scoff and Nick laughs. “I like her.”
Kingsley grabs my hand and tugs me outside to the patio. It’s made of cobblestone, and there’s a long outdoor table with flowers down the middle. Beyond that is the pool we passed earlier. He sits in one of the deck chairs, and pulls me into his lap, gently grazing my throat with his teeth. “Tell me everything about you,” he whispers.
I chuckle from the tickling kisses. “You probably don’t want to know.”
“I do. Everything.”
“Tell me about you, first.”
He laughs. “God, you’re stubborn.”
I wink, and he shakes his head. All of a sudden I’m pressed against him, and he's standing, then running, and I feel my heart remain in the air as Kingsley leaps forward and we’re immersed in water.
Kingsley
I lie down on my bed, and she lies beside me. She’s a foster kid. It makes so much sense. I thought I had problems, but I bet my problems are nothing compared to hers. “Wait, how old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
I frown. “Eighteen?”
She nods.
“I thought when you turn eighteen, you weren’t in foster care anymore.”
Her eyes drop from mine, and her finger starts swirling in circles on the pillow between us. My throat goes dry as I wait for her answer.
“Yeah, that’s the case for most people.”
I arch an eyebrow and she continues.
“I only turned eighteen a few days ago, and I didn’t even know until my social worker showed up on my doorstep. She put me in this program that allows me to finish off school. Anyway, even if she didn’t, I don’t think my foster mom would kick me out. She needs the money I make and she needs my help looking after the kids.”
I don’t know why my heart started to race when the idea of her leaving crossed my mind, and then her words settle in. It was just her birthday. “Wait. Your birthday was a few days ago?”
She nods but her expression stays the same. Plain.
“When?”
She lets her hand go limp and her eyes meet mine again. “I told you. A few days ago.”
I let out a breath. “A date, please, Maddison.”
She rolls her eyes. “The 26th of February.”
I think back. That was only a few days ago. Two, in fact. I most definitely knew her then. “We were together that day. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She laughs. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I hold her gaze. “Does it look like I’m kidding?”
“I don’t celebrate my birthday,” she says flatly.
I shake my head confused. “Why not?”
She shrugs. “I never have.”
“Well, you do when you’re with me, so we’re going to do something.”
She begins to protest, when I wrap my hands around hers. “Not now, don’t worry. I’ve got too many questions I want answered.”
Her shoulders drop and she seems relieved. She then presses her lips together. “Actually, I think it’s my turn. But before we get into the deep, dark and personal. How old are you?” She’s eying me warily and I snicker.
“Eighteen. My birthday’s September 16th.”
She raises her eyebrows, then after a few minutes she says, “Okay. Now for the serious stuff. I know you’re hiding something.”
I’m taken aback by her words and I’m suddenly afraid of what’s about to come out of her mouth. “Hiding something?”
She nods. “Everyone has a reason for doing and dealing drugs. I originally thought you were just a rich boy acting out.” She pauses. Her stern eyes soften and she says, “But I was wrong.”
I don’t know what’s happening inside me, but an avalanche of emotions just came crashing down. She’s right. Of course, she’s right, and she can see me, just like I asked her.
My heart is pounding but not because of what’s to come out of my mouth, it’s pounding because it’s desperate for her to not judge me. It’s thrashing because I know she will, but it’s somehow begging to depart my lips.
I inhale a shaky breath, and as I exhale, I meet her gaze. “My dad and I don’t have a good relationship. Hell, we don’t have a relationship at all. My mom, she tries . . . at least, she wants to try, but the drugs and alcohol get in the way.”
“Why does your dad hate you?”
I can’t look at her when I say it. Instead, I stare straight ahead, struggling not to let my mind send me back to that day. “Because I killed my sister.” I don’t hear anything, and when I open my eyes, I see her face is drained of color.
“What?” she breathes.
I feel the guilt creeping back up, compressing me. Filling my lungs and drowning me. I’ve never talked about this with anyone other than counselors. If I’d had it my way, I wouldn’t have spoken to anyone.
But now I look to her, and her bright blue eyes are round, staring into mine. It’s not the look I expected. It’s purely selfless—desperate to understand, in a way that makes my heart ache.
For the first time I can remember, I don’t want to keep it hidden. Not from her. I want her to know. “When I was six, my sister was five months old, and being a spoiled little shit my whole life, I was, ahh, jealous.” I sit up and rub the back of my neck. I don’t look at her, as I mumble, “I wanted my parents’ attention, so I did something.” I inhale deeply, trying to slow the panic creeping into me. I feel her hand brush over my leg. I look down to it, take another deep breathe, then stammer, “I . . . I–I locked my sister’s room when she was sleeping, climbed out of her window and into my parents’ room, just to have them to myself. When the baby monitor went off, they couldn’t get in. It only took a few extra minutes for my dad to break the door down.” I press my head into the palms of my hands, unable to control the tears. “My sister had rolled over and suffocated.”
It’s the longest few seconds of my life. Everything inside of me is aching. Pain is manageable, but grief is unbearable. I can’t move. I can’t stop the thud of my heart, and when I feel her hand on mine, I stiffen. She intertwines our fingers and squeezes.
“Stop blaming yourself,” she whispers.
I look up. Her eyes are filled with tears, and I cry. I wish I don’t, but I can’t help it.
She pulls me into her, wrapping her arms around my neck. She holds me tight, and I’ve never felt so cared for in my life. I whisper, “My dad only speaks to me when he wants something, or when I embarrass the family. I steered my mom towards drugs and alcohol. I can’t remember the last time she was sober.”
I pull my head from her neck, and the tears have stopped, but I see her cheeks are wet. “When I first started dating Rebecca, we were good friends. As soon as my dad found out
, he viewed it as a business opportunity, so after the first time she cheated on me and I broke it off with her, my dad threatened to disown me, take everything away if I didn’t get back with her. Ever since then he’s blackmailed me. He doesn’t know that we’re not dating anymore.” I look up, and her eyes have turned to slits.
“So, I’m taking it we’re not going to get along?”
I snicker, then shake my head. I know exactly what he is going to think about her, and what he is going to do. “I think the closest thing I have to a father is Nick, and I had my nanny, Mary, but she died a few years ago. Other than that, it’s just me, stuck in this shit of a life.” Her face is still pale, lifeless. I don’t like her like this. I pull my hand up to her cheek and wipe the tears away. “I’m sorry,” I say.
She shakes her head, sniffs. “No, I wanted to know.” She presses her hand to mine against her cheek. “Thank you for telling me.”
I’ve kept that to myself for eleven years, because I felt responsible, but to tell someone and for them to accept and not judge me is unbelievable.
“So now that I’ve drowned you in my sorrows, tell me yours.”
She actually laughs. “I guess we both might be just as fucked up as each other, huh, who would’ve thought?”
I laugh with her. I can’t remember a time I felt this free. That my laugh came so naturally. I stare deep into her eyes and rub the back of her hand as she takes a few deep breaths.
“Well, I’ve lived in as many homes as I can count, but I’ve been in the same one for three years now.”
“So you’re happy where you are?”
She scoffs. “Far from it, but I got a scholarship to this school, and if I move I won’t be able to go there, but that’s not the only reason. I can’t leave my siblings.”
“Siblings?”
“Other foster kids. There’s five of them all under the age of seven, except for Tilly, who is nine.” She bites her bottom lip, and I squeeze her hand. “For three years, I’ve tried to look after them. I steal so I can put food on the table and buy them books for school. Everything I do is for them. I didn’t tell our social worker what was going on, because I was afraid I would get shipped away, and lose my chance to get into Juilliard. I also couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them. But the other night, my foster dad was beating my foster mom in front of all the kids, and then he hit Phoebe. She’s just a toddler and she was scared, so she was crying. I couldn’t take it anymore. I called the cops. I tried to hold out as long as I could, but their safety has to come first. Even if it means I don’t get into Juilliard.”
My heart is pounding so hard, and when the tears slip down her cheeks, I don’t know how I manage to be strong for her, but I do because she was for me. I kiss her tears away, then pull her into me. I hold her tight as she sobs into my neck, and we lay there for what feels like hours until I hear a door slam. “Hamish!”
“Fuck,” I curse. She jumps out of my grasp, and I shoot to my feet. “They’re back early. You can’t be here,” I say in a low voice, and sure enough the expression that spreads across her face breaks my heart. “It’s just . . . they don’t know I’ve ended it with Rebecca, and my Dad . . .”
“It’s okay,” she cuts me off, and steps in towards me. She presses her hand to my chest, my breathing hitches. I lean forward, inhaling her hypnotizing scent. I desperately want to pick her up and wrap my arms around her, but I can hear my mom in the hallway, and I have to get myself together. I have to protect her from them.
“Just wait in my bathroom, I won’t be long.” I pull her through my closet, sit her on the chair in the bathroom, take her head between my hands and kiss her as softly as I can on the forehead. I turn quickly and close the bathroom door behind me.
I step into the hallway to meet my mom before she even has time to enter my room.
“Hamish.” She smiles.
“Hey, Mom.”
She places both her hands on my neck, pulls me down and kisses my forehead. “I missed you.”
I smile. “How was it?”
“Oh, just what I needed. I feel amazing.”
“You look it.”
She lightly smacks my arm. “What do you want?”
I contemplate telling her about Maddy, and Rebecca. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, yeah. Have you been okay?” She frowns. “You been good?” She knows about my fighting due to previous visual repercussions, but I haven’t been in one for a few weeks, and now that I think about it, the last fight I had was a few days before I met Maddy. “You look okay, not too skinny, either. Has Nick been looking after you?”
“Mom, I can’t get skinny in a week.”
“You can if you don’t eat.”
“And you think Nick won’t feed me?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m allowed to be a worried mom, aren’t I?”
I can’t deny the way it makes me feel, because it is genuine. I rest my arm on her shoulder and pull her in towards me. “You know how good Nick is to me, Mom. I’m fine.”
She wraps her arms around my waist, and says, “Good. Speaking of Nick, he’s cooked us dinner, so come on.”
I freeze. Shit. I need to tell Maddy what’s happening.
My mom steps into my view. “Hamish?” she frowns. I shake my head and let out a breath. I need to get rid of her first. I pull her under my arm again and walk down the stairs.
Nick is in the kitchen cooking dinner. “What’s up, Haymes? You come to destroy my masterpiece again?”
“You know it.”
He plates up a lamb dish with mashed potatoes and salad. I sit beside my mom. The sixteen seater table is too big to sit opposite each other.
I can’t stop thinking about Maddy. She’s probably freaking out. I have to eat quickly, but I also can’t be obvious. My mom’s ignorant, but she isn’t stupid.
“How was school, Haym?” I hear Nick shout from the kitchen.
I turn around and scowl at him. He’s smiling.
“Good.” I glance at Mom. She hasn’t picked up on anything.
“So what did you do while I was gone? Or should I ask Nick?” She raises an eyebrow. All that I can think of is Maddy. I decide now is the best time to tell her. I can’t hide her in my bathroom. My dad isn’t here. Maybe she can break it to him. Either way, he’s going to find out soon enough, and I’d rather my mom hear it from me than that dick.
“Mom,” I place my knife and fork on my plate and turn to face her.
Nick’s now refilling her wine, shooting me warning glares. My mom rests her cutlery on her plate and looks to Nick and me at my sudden change of tone. Nick sits down next to her and starts eating.
“What’s wrong?”
I pause, feeling my heart beat faster. How am I meant to say this? She loves Rebecca, she’ll know how upset my dad is going to be, and she isn’t going to be impressed with who I’ve chosen.
“Oh, God, you got her pregnant didn’t you?”
“No, fuck no,” I say quickly. That goes to show what my mom thinks of me.
Nick chokes on his food, and my eyes dart to his.
“Language,” she growls. “Then what is it?” Her hand finds my arm, and her fingers tighten. I look up to the ceiling—to my room—then look back to my mom who has followed my stare, then she meets my gaze. “Rebecca and I broke up.”
She gasps, and I don’t think I’ve seen her face pale so fast.
I rub the back of my neck, look to Nick for reassurance, but he’s consuming his food like there’s no tomorrow. Finally, I glance back at her. “We broke up like a week ago.”
Nick looks up, and I know he is wondering if I’m stupid enough to tell her I’m already seeing someone else. I guess I’m about to prove him right.
“I’m dating someone else.”
Sure enough, she pales more, which ten seconds ago I wouldn’t have thought was possible. Before she can say a word, I say, “She’s upstairs.” The color quickly returns to h
er face, and she turns so red, I’m sure steam is about to start smoking from her ears.
“What?” she says under her breath. Very rarely does my mom get mad at me, and I don’t like it. Her chair scrapes against the floor, and she stands quickly.
Oh shit. Nick and I make eye contact, and he shakes his head but he’s got a smile on his face. I pull back and chase after my mom. She’s running. “Mom!”
“Why would you do that? You know what’s going to happen.” Yup, she’s just thinking of Dad. She’s scared of him, too.
I grab her by the arm, pulling her around to face me. Her frown is gone, and it’s replaced with fear. “Mom, please.” I stutter. “She’s . . . important.”
Her face softens and she exhales. She carries on walking to my room, but I can see her demeanor is calmer, so I don’t stop her. She opens my door. I follow her into my room and my heart drops. The balcony door is open, and so is the bathroom. I step around my mom, frantically searching the room for her, but she’s gone.
“Fuck.” I shove the door open to my closet, but she isn’t in there either. I know she’s gone, but maybe she hasn’t gone far. I have to get her. I move towards my mom, who is standing there skeptically. I grab her by the arms, bringing her gaze to mine. “Mom, I love you. Please don’t tell Dad yet.”
“Okay,” she whispers. I kiss her on the cheek, then sprint out of my room.
I didn’t mean to offend Maddy, but I could see in her eyes that’s what had happened. She just didn’t understand. My dad . . . my dad, he would ruin her. I can’t let that happen.
I jump in my car, rev the engine and skid out of the driveway. My house is miles from Cynthia’s. Well, as far as Maddy thinks I know, my house is miles from Maddy’s house. So she couldn’t have gone too far.
As soon as I reach the end of the driveway, I slow and scour the street.
I drive for about fifteen minutes before I start to freak. Why didn’t I get her number?
Shit. Did I just screw this up?
Maddison
What was I thinking? I can’t do this. We’re from two completely different worlds. He is fucking rich, and I am fucking poor. There is no way it could work. Admitting it to myself is like a kick in the gut. I really liked what we had going, but the look on his face when his mother got home tore me apart. She would disapprove of me. So would his father. It just wouldn’t work. I’ve never felt the things I feel with Kingsley, but I won’t do this to him, to his family.
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