He jumps out of his car, then squeezes his eyes shut as he sees me glaring up at him from the ditch. With a sheepish grin, he murmurs softly, “Sorry.”
“I’m wearing PURPLE!” I growl, gesturing at my outfit. “Purple!”
He glances up at the sky a moment. “Yes, I know you’re wearing purple, Jane.” After a moment, he adds, “I prefer that color on you really, by the way.”
“Then why’d you run me over?” I growl.
He flicks his jaw muscles, like he doesn’t want to answer, then he says softly, “You take me by surprise, Jane.”
His soft voice does something to my heart, but I try to ignore it, since I’m bleeding—and it’s his fault.
“Get in,” he says gently, gesturing to his car. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
I narrow my eyes, suspicious and bitter. “So you can run into Skank?”
His jaw muscles flicker. He’s silent for a moment, then says, “No. If I wanted to run into her, all I’d have to do is answer her texts. Or let her in the guarded gate—you remember the gate-guard, right? He’s still there. Still does his job.”
I tilt my head. “And you have him keeping her out?”
Hunter’s jaw muscles flicker again. Slowly he nods. “Get in, Jane. It’s not like the gate-guard will let you in either, so relax. I’m just taking you home—not making a play for you.”
When I don’t move, he sighs. “Look, I realize almost mowing you down with my car probably appears super smooth and romantic—but I swear it was an accident, and it’s not actually how I pick up girls. Really. I promise. If you weren’t now bleeding, I’d drive on by. Just like I do every day.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You wrote a poem about me,” I remind him.
He deadpans, “Did I? I don’t recall. Look, get in, Driver-distraction. I’ll take you home.”
“Not going to happen Hunter,” I tell him and start running again, though my scraped knee hurts like a mother.
He calls after me amused-like, “I wasn’t picking up on you Jane. I’m just a bad driver.”
Only a few moments later he’s in his car again. He drives slowly beside me, and rolls down his window. “Jane, you’re limping,” he says in exasperation. “Get in.”
“No thanks,” I mutter. “You and your poems and car should stay away from me—crazy stalkers!”
He groans around an amused grin, “Jane, you adorable ego-maniac little freak, I’m not hitting on you. You’re bleeding.”
I roll my eyes. “Look, Hunter. I don’t want to get in the middle of your demented love thing with your skank. Veer the crazy away from me.”
He gives me a look I can’t read. “Jane, I’m not getting back together with her.”
I scoff. “Yeah. Right.”
He draws out a loud dramatic breath. “Let’s get this straight—I’m not hitting on you, and I’m not getting back together with your enemy.” He adds, “But don’t be offended that I date half the female population at the school.”
“You mean before you get back together with Skank.”
He looks into my eyes, “What?—are you jealous?”
“Not at all. I just know you, Hunter.”
“Or you think you do.”
I give him a dramatic wave, then cut through the woods. I don’t look back, but I know he’s watching me still, so I dart into a thick of trees.
I don’t know what’s going on with him suddenly—but I need him to stop.
My heart can’t take another round with him.
The dude had totally owned my heart. Then he stomped on it.
There are no second chances with that sort of thing. When someone slaughters your heart—no. No second chance. But the thing is—he never even acted like he wanted one before.
… not that he exactly did now either, actually.
But something has definitely changed with him. He hadn’t even talked to me for over a year. Now he’s writing poems about me?—and breathing on me?
I make a vow not to let it get to me—whatever he’s doing.
He’d once been kind and sweet. I trusted him completely.
But then, like I said: he slaughtered my heart.
These days it’s hard to believe he was my first kiss, let alone my first love.
Life is weird.
… and sometimes it majorly sucks.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
Even though it hurts, I’ll take you back to that time—back to when I first met Hunter.
It happened when I became an orphan. I lost my family in a car accident. My parents were dead on the spot, but my little brother held on to life a little longer. He was in a coma for months. But he never came through.
So yeah, that car crash took my whole family. Lucky for me, I’d been at my friend Ally’s at the time. Or maybe it was unlucky. Back then I wasn’t sure. Not going to lie: I did NOT feel lucky. Not in anyway.
After my family died I had to move in with my aunt and uncle. They weren’t exactly pleased to have me. To be fair, they weren’t exactly mean (well, okay they were) but the thing was, they already had their own kids: my cousins—Gia, Ellie, and Judd. None of them liked me. We seriously didn’t get along. So, I guess that was why my aunt was thrilled when she got a strange (aka: scary) request. It was insane! What was the request?—that I go live with some hoity-toity rich family for the summer. A family I didn’t know. At all. Never even met.
“You’ll be like the rich people’s nanny,” my aunt explained when I about keeled over learning she was willing to shill me out to complete strangers.
I gulped. She’d really send me away?—to strangers?! I wiped away a tear, trying not to let my voice quiver. After all, I’d tried my hardest to act tough ever since I’d come to live with them. Like their unkindness didn’t bother me. Like I didn’t even care. But well, I was only fifteen. And fragile as broken china. So really I did care—immensely. So much.
It was like a sword slashing through my heart every time I caught them complaining about me living with them. And now? Now they were sending me away? I swallowed, trying to sound incredulous rather than wounded and terrified. “But—but they don’t even know me. Why would they want me?”
My aunt explained again, “Apparently the workers at the hospital told them about you. You know, from when you used to visit your little brother in the coma. They said you would make a fine Candy-striper. And the people that want you to stay with them—they just need you be like you were for your brother.”
“But—but my brother was in a coma.”
My aunt patted my arm, almost sympathetically (almost). “I know sweetie, but look, these people are willing to pay you for the things you had done for your brother for free. Plus, these people are extraordinarily rich. They will pay you well and you’ll get to live in a mansion—and they have a pool. It will be like a vacation! Plus, you and Gia haven’t been getting along so well since you stole her boyfriend.”
Heat swamped my cheeks. I gasped out, “I didn’t steal him! I didn’t even want him.”
The boy was horrid and a perv.
“Fine, fine,” my aunt said dismissively, though she didn’t believe me—ever (about anything). “It’s all forgiven and forgotten—well, it will be if you go off and do this fortuitous job. While you’re away I’m sure Gia can patch things up with her little love and by the time you come back, who knows? Maybe she will have forgiven you.”
For what?—being attacked by her boyfriend’s tongue? (Shudder!!!!)
“Fine,” I whispered. Anything was better than having to see that boy again. Or have my mean cousins continue with their mean pranks on me. Pranks that they called “revenge.” Yet I’d done absolutely nothing wrong.
“Get me out of here,” I added.
My aunt frowned. “Gladly. You have a very poor attitude, Jane. I hope it improves while you’re away.”
“You mean on my vacation?”
“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “That’s what I mean.”
“I’ll sen
d you a postcard,” I grumbled.
“As long as you don’t send one to Stephen,” my aunt snapped.
Stephen! That was Gia’s creepy, pervy, yucky boyfriend.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I told her, then added: “But make sure he doesn’t send me one, because I don’t want to puke, and that’s what he does—makes me want to puke.”
She slitted her eyes at me. “Then I guess you’ll be glad to be leaving.”
“I am!”
Well, okay, I wasn’t.
I was terrified.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
I got dropped off in front of—well, my aunt was right about that. The house really was like a mansion.
My aunt had already met the lady that was hiring me. Apparently she met the lady while I was at my dance lessons. Apparently the lady—Mrs. Gilly—had a nine-year-old daughter that took lessons at the same place as me, right after my class. The girl was named Tia and I’d be taking care of her as well—along with her twin brother, Tommy, who had jumped off their roof and broken both his legs. (Who does that?—jumps off a roof?) (Certainly not someone who would be compared to a boy in a coma.)
So, since my aunt had already met the lady, she didn’t wait around to talk to Mrs. Gilly again. She just dropped me off at the mansion as she was late taking my cousin Ellie to her tennis lesson.
“Oh my gosh! Look at that mansion!” Ellie had exclaimed when she saw where I was going to be staying. “It has horse stables and a pool—I want to stay here for the summer. It’s not fair.” She slumped back in her seat. “Why does Jane get to?”
My aunt gritted her teeth, “Because she doesn’t get along with Gia.”
“Well, neither do I,” Ellie pointed out. She flounced back in her seat. “Jane gets everything.”
“Jane only gets to see her family at the cemetery,” my aunt reminded her.
“Well, I wish that’s where I saw mine,” Ellie said with a teasing smile.
I had already grabbed my bag and hopped out of the car. I wasn’t looking forward to staying with strangers—but I was very glad to be getting away from these people.
CHAPTER NINE:
Mrs. Gilly was a nice enough lady. I mean, for a rich lady. (Rich people make me nervous.) So do adults. So, you know, things went as well as could be expected.
She showed me around the gigantic house a bit and introduced me to her two children that I would be watching for the summer—Tia and Tommy. They were on their way to chess club, so it was a quick introduction, with Tommy being wheeled about by their driver, and him wishing me, “Good luck,” as he left.
Then a third person—a boy—came racing down the stairs after them, announcing to his mom he was going to hitch a ride with the driver, “—to hockey practice,” the boy explained, as he raced down the stairs.
Oh. My. Gosh!!! The boy was absolutely the most beautiful boy I had ever seen—ever. And he was around my age—probably older, but not toooo much older. Seeing him, my heart thumped as it had never done before in my (almost) fifteen years of life.
The boy froze when he saw me standing at the bottom of the stairs. I was frozen too.
“Hello,” he said. Clearing his throat, he said it again, “Hello.”
I made a noise. It was supposed to be “hello” back, but it was just a noise—a strange one that made me turn red.
The boy winked with a small but delighted smile, like he knew what I meant and why I was unable to actually speak, like he knew his beautiful eyes on me like that—so eager and hungry—had me breathless.
Actually, he seemed breathless too—like my stare wasn’t exactly horrible either. In fact, he adored it.
Mrs. Gilly rolled her eyes at her son’s wink. She said dryly, “You’d better hurry Romeo if you expect the driver to peddle you around.”
“You mean the chauffer, chauffer me around,” he responded, his twinkling eyes still on me.
His mother responded wryly, “Whichever the case, I’m not going to send him back to fetch you if he’s left.”
“Okay, well.” The boy reluctantly dragged his eyes from me and hurried to the door, but after he pulled it open, he turned back to me.
“’Bye,” he said.
Then he was gone.
And I was left with my heart pounding.
Completely baffled.
Was that beautiful boy going to be living here with me?—in this beautiful mansion?
Mrs. Gilly smiled stiffly at me as I stared transfixed at the closed door where her gorgeous son had just exited, my heart pounding from a strange mixture of yearning mixed with bewilderment.
“You were highly recommended,” she told me again—for the fourth time. I guess because I must have looked as confused as felt as to why in the world I was here. I mean out of all the people in the world, why me? Here? At this beautiful place with that beautiful boy? What baffling mix-up had taken place?
I swallowed. “It was nice of the hospital staff to recommend me,” I said meekly. I mean, what could I say? That was all I could think of.
“Oh, it wasn’t the staff that recommended you,” Mrs. Gilly said. “However, they agreed wholeheartedly that you would do a wonderful job, and they gave me the information to get in contact with your aunt.”
“But—but they didn’t recommend me?”
“No, that would be my son.”
I blinked, confused. “Tommy?”
“No, my older son—Hunter.” She clarified dryly, “—Romeo, with the wink.”
My heart slammed against my chest. I had to grab on to the counter beside me to keep from toppling over.
That news was even more baffling.
I stammered out, “I—I don’t know Hunter.”
Mrs. Gilly smiled stiffly. “That’s what Hunter said. He swore up and down you didn’t know him. Yes, I know you’re perplexed—but think how I feel. My son, who is beyond rowdy and quite a handful—I’m talking about Hunter, by the way, and not your new charge: convalescent Tommy—Hunter swore up and down he would be good all summer and take both violin lessons and French lessons all summer long if I’d hire you for Tommy—and Hunter hates the violin and can’t stay out of trouble to save his life.”
She smiled weakly, “So, your stay with us may come to an end quite abruptly—and suddenly. But fear not—you will be paid quite handsomely for at least my son’s attempt at making amends to his impressionable little brother.”
Before I can ask what the—?? Because really, WHAT the—?? I mean, besides the fact I don’t know Hunter (which is an enormous fact) but what is just as confusing is: why would a boy promise to be good all summer just to have me watch his little brother?
But before I can ask, Mrs. Gilly goes on, “Apparently Hunter had dared Tommy to jump off the roof. He hadn’t expected Tommy to take the dare, of course. But Tommy is following in his big brother’s footsteps to an alarming degree, so off the roof Tommy went. Hunter felt so guilty about it that he promised Tommy the best care possible—and apparently that’s you.”
She smiled sardonically, “—well to my son anyway.”
Fireworks exploded through me.
I bit my bottom lip, my heart pounding too loud to try talking over. Besides, I had no idea what to say. Mostly because I now remembered that I had seen Hunter before. Actually, I knew I had the moment I saw him, but it had all happened so suddenly—him unexpectedly showing up, racing down the stairs, here in this magnificent house—it had made my brain basically stop working. But it was working now. A little.
I remembered seeing Hunter at my dance class. I guess he had been there with his mom, early for his sister’s dance lesson or something.
In any case, I now remembered disturbingly vividly seeing him there. It had been a few weeks ago. He was standing in the open doorway as I was intent on my dance lesson. I’d been in the middle of a pirouette, but I had felt his eyes on me. Distractedly I had looked up, then my eyes had locked on to his—the most beautiful long-lashed eyes I’d ever seen. Our eyes stayed locked like
that, fixated, until my teacher broke me out of our magical spell, chastising me on daydreaming as she quickly shut the door in the beautiful boy’s still-staring face. Hunter’s face.
I swallowed, remembering all that now. But I couldn’t tell it to Mrs. Gilly. Of course. After all, it in no way explained anything. Nothing at all, in fact.
I mean, why would Hunter assume I was a good care-giver?—just because he’d (apparently) liked seeing me dance? And how could he have known the hospital could track me down?
Also, it wasn’t like I ever got to see him or any of his family after that day—which was weeks ago. I never got to go back to my dance lessons after that day. My aunt had cancelled them when my cousins started playing their mean tricks on me—and blaming me for every bad thing that happened in that horrible house. So, my aunt had abruptly cancelled my dance lessons, though she had no right. None at all. My deceased grandmother had specifically set aside money in her will for me to “continue on with my fruitful dance lessons.”
But my aunt announced after my newest spat with my cousins, “Jane, that money will pay for the laptop you broke, and the trauma you put upon this household for going after Gia’s sweet beau.”
(Who I must again stress—was so not sweet—and I’d tried my very, very hardest to avoid him at all costs.) Yet here I am—dance lesson-less, and now in a mansion, staring at Hunter’s mom, as baffled as she is. Well, really, I’m more baffled, of course.
All she is baffled about is how I have somehow managed to get her son to do the things he deplored doing—namely violin lessons, and being “good.”
But I’m baffled about all of this—why I’m here, or how these people know anything about me.
CHAPTER TEN:
When Tommy and Tia got home from chess club, I soon found that I liked them very much.
Tia swiped Tommy’s cookie from him with a playful laugh.
“For once I get to be the tease,” she announced with an impish smile. “I get the last cookie—and you can’t do anything about it.”
Tommy made a dramatic moan. “You would steal a cookie from a cripple?”
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