I shrug. “That’s all.”
After a moment, my mom surprises me when she clears her throat and nods, a fitted smile on her face.
She reaches out, gently touching my cheek, a bit of dejection plaited in her words, “Don’t be late for school, Demi.”
She steps back, grabs her purse and her keys, and walks out the garage door, locking it behind her.
It’s odd, for a mother to do nothing else, but mine has no clue what to do, and leaving is easier for her than facing the fact that she’s oblivious to how to parent a teenage girl. I can’t fault her for it, but sometimes I almost wish she’d try.
I take a deep breath, my eyes stuck on the way she exited before I pick up my water and head back for my room, but as soon as I step around the corner, I find Nico standing there, leaning against the wall, his boxers on and a throw blanket draped over his shoulders.
“Hi.” I grin.
“Hi.”
“How long you been standing here?”
“Since you stepped foot in the kitchen.” He eyes me, a gentleness I haven’t seen in his before. “Thought you were sneaking out of your own house on me.”
A small laugh escapes.
“She left?”
I nod.
His eyes blaze. “Come here.”
I do.
He lifts his arm, running his hand along my neck before leaning in to kiss me lightly, the blanket falling to our feet as he grabs my hand.
He pulls back, nodding his head so I follow him up the stairs and into my in-house studio room.
There’s a few small stools in the corner, a sound system in the other and that’s it.
He walks over to the stereo, glancing back at me as he turns it on. “What’s in here?”
I shrug, not remembering since I prefer to practice outside. I lean against the frame, eating up every inch of his body standing in nothing but boxers for only me to see and enjoy.
After a moment, The Weeknd’s “Earned It” comes through the speakers and he moves to one of the stools, dropping onto it as his head falls against the wall.
“You said I couldn’t handle it,” he rasps, a slow smirk forming on his lips. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?”
He lifts his chin, calling me to him and I don’t hesitate.
I stop right between his legs.
Nico scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, his hands coming up and sliding under my robe at my shoulder. He slips his hands around and down my arms, taking the soft, fleece material with him, his hands staying on my skin until I’m left standing how he wants me.
Completely bare for only him.
“Dance for me, baby,” he whispers, his fist gliding across his hard-on.
My eyes are forced to follow.
I give him what he wants, and Nico gives even more in return.
“Why’d you want to meet here?” I ask my dad, taking a quick drink of my water.
“I thought it would be nice to have a meal with my daughter.”
“Mom always orders in food when you come.” I smirk.
He lets out a low laugh. “Yeah, she does do that, doesn’t she?”
“You didn’t tell her you were here, did you?”
“Would we be sitting here so peacefully if I had?”
I scoff. “No, we would not.”
He gives a small smile, tilting his head. “I hear you have yourself a boyfriend? Any threats I should be making?”
I laugh, covering my face with my hands. “Oh my god, Dad, no.”
We don’t talk about my relationships, ever, but maybe that’s because I’ve never been much of a dater.
“Do I know him?” he asks.
“Mom told you about him, but didn’t tell you who it was?”
“Who is it?”
I stretch my lips over my teeth in a nervous smile. “Nico.”
His instant frown makes me laugh.
“Little Nico, who lives right behind you, way too damn close, and used to stare at you through the fence every second he could, Nico?”
I’m pretty sure I blush. “He’s not little anymore.”
My dad throws his head back with a laugh, but when he looks back, there’s a softness in his eyes. “No, I guess he wouldn’t be. Neither are you, baby girl.”
He lets out a deep sigh and I know he brought me here for a reason that makes him feel uncomfortable.
I lay my forearms on the table, giving him a soft smile. “What’s up, Dad?”
“Your mom called me the other night, she said she was worried about you.” The corners of his eyes pinch. “Considering all the spending lately, and how you don’t text me in the evening as often as before made me wonder if she had a right to be. I can never really tell with your mother, so I wanted a chance to chat with you away from her, just in case.”
A knot forms in my throat even though I knew this was coming, but still, I delay. “Why didn’t Leah come?”
“We have an issue at the firm, and one of us had to stay in town just in case.”
“I’ll have to drive over soon to see her, it’s been a while.”
He nods, tilting his head to the side. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”
“Actually, Dad, yeah.” A light laugh leaves me. “More so than any other time I’ve claimed so.”
“Do I have the boy to thank for that?”
I smile, shrugging.
He chuckles. “All right, I won’t pry... yet.” He winks. “So why do you think your mom freaked out and called?”
I lick my lips, looking to my hands a moment. “I ...”
“Come on, Demi.”
Our eyes meet again.
“She’s been giving me pills again, here and there, so not like before, but I don’t need them, so I told her so.” I hesitate. “I also might have threatened to move in with you if she tried to push me.”
My dad laughs loudly this time, thanking the waitress for his drink as she sets it down. “That will definitely do the trick.”
“Yeah, she’s... something else.”
“And the extra spending, your savings...” He eases into the big issue, an expression that says he knows the truth, but expects I won’t share it.
I won’t.
I don’t want to deal with my mom when her world crashes around her.
My eyes fall to the table, my knee bouncing beneath it. “I’m sorry, I...” I look to him. “I’ll try to do better.”
He gives a sad smile, not outing my lie, but nodding as he finishes off his drink and sets down the empty glass.
He leans forward. “I was thinking, what do you think about having the firm set you up with a new, separate account that will be inaccessible and unconnected? I can take a percentage from what you currently get and put it into the new one. An out of sight, out of mind type of account. I can have them play with some numbers, see what needs to be moved to get you where you want to be by the end of the year and then you can adjust. What do you say?”
Yeah, he knows exactly who is spending the money.
“That would be awesome, Dad.” I nod, trying to keep the moisture from my eyes. I hate to lie to him, but to completely throw my mom under the bus isn’t easy.
He understands, so he doesn’t ever really push. I’m pretty sure it’s because he has guilt for being so absent, but I don’t hold it against him as much as I do my mom. He has a company to run in another town and he still manages to call or text me a few times a week where I live with my mother and speak to her less. He tries where she no longer seems interested.
We spend the rest of dinner talking about school and the work he’s currently doing, safe topics that don’t cause too much thought.
Within an hour, I’m saying goodnight to my dad, climbing back in my car and heading home.
I text Nico, but get no response, so after a shower, I decide to call it a night and head for bed earlier than normal.
The next day, when I still don’t hear from Nico and he doesn’t show up at school, I figure
it’s another one of his random miss days he used to have more often, but when the final bell rings and it’s time for his practice to begin and he’s still not here, I grow concerned.
I try calling, but it goes to voicemail after a single ring and I force myself not to dwell on it, going about my normal routine instead.
On Tuesday, when it happens again, I decide I’m as angry as I am concerned. I consider talking to Trent, to see if he heard from him, but I have no idea if he and Nico have talked yet and I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, so I throw out the thought as soon as it comes.
As soon as the bell rings, I head home, and walk around to his front door. His truck isn’t in the driveway, but it could be in the garage, so I knock.
I’m about to walk back home when the silvery voice of a woman floats from the other side.
His mom. Shit.
I take two backward steps, turn to leave, and bump right into Nico.
I stumble, and the bags in his hands fly to the ground as he swiftly jerks forward to catch me.
He’s slow to let go, heavy creases paved across his forehead, his under-eye heavy from a clear lack of sleep.
Concern pulls at my brows, and I step back, smoothing my hands over my shorts. “Hey.”
“One second,” comes from inside, and his glare intensifies, snaps to the door and back to me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks quickly, a sense of urgency and something I can’t quite place in his tone.
Not necessarily anger but a deep frustration I’m not sure is for me.
“You’ve been gone.”
He sighs, brushes his hand across my jaw swiftly as he bends to pick up the medication bottles that slipped from the bags, so I get down to help him.
“You didn’t answer, so I figured I’d come by and make sure everything was okay.” My eyes lift to find his narrowed on me.
I know what he’s doing, and it saddens me he still feels so guarded.
Not only had I overheard a bit when he argued with his dad before, but Nico himself shared his mom’s troubles with me already.
He can stand here and search all he wants, he’ll find no judgment from me.
The door clicks and his glower snaps over my head.
Slowly, I look over my shoulder to find his mom, thinner than I remember, but still just as beautiful, standing there in a nightgown.
Her eyes, as dark and captivating as her son’s, fall to mine, and then shift to the pill bottles in my hands. She gives a faint smile.
I push to my feet, bringing my hands together. “Ms. Sykes. Hi.”
She tucks her long hair behind her ear. “My husband must have sent you,” she guesses and my smile grows stiffer by the second.
Does she not recognize me?
And did she say husband?
“You brought my medicine,” she says. “Thank you.”
Her eyes slide to her son then, and I force mine to follow.
Nico glares at the ground.
“I told you he’d keep taking care of us, Nikoli.”
Our eyes meet a moment, but he quickly glances away.
He gently tugs the bottles from my hands and stands. “Guess you were right, Ma,” he says tenderly, stepping inside and closing the door.
He leaves me there without a word.
It takes me a moment to turn to leave, but as I take a few steps down the path I spot another small pill bottle that rolled into the dirt. I pick it up, turning around to knock on the door once more to give it to them, but the prescribing doctor’s name catches my attention and I freeze.
Dr. Avery Hammons.
Hammons. As in...
Alex’s mom?
I set the bottle close to the door, and walk back home, my mind spinning more and more with each stride.
When I step inside my door, I don’t get a foot farther before my mom is in my face, a smile far too wide for my liking.
“What?” I ask hesitantly.
“I just got off of a very promising phone call.”
I slowly close the door behind me. “What phone call?”
Her smile spreads impossibly wider.
This can’t be good.
Never once has my father ever reached out to me with the intention of asking me to come to his new house for a visit, the house he bought with the money he seduced my mother into giving him, money left to her from her family.
The shitty part is he doesn’t even need it. His new wife is worth even more, but he’s a greedy prick, and nothing is ever enough for Nikole Sykes.
The fact that he pulled some shit on my mom and still called me to come here is fucking with my head and bad.
I’ve been driving up and down his neighborhood for a half hour now, my leg bouncing against the seat, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, I’m so stressed the fuck out, and I hate myself for it.
I hate how he still has a way of getting under my skin when I do my best to pretend his existence and all that goes with it means nothing.
He’s nothing.
There’s no doubt in my mind he’s aware I found my mom under the mountain of paperwork he left her with. He knows I know what he’s trying to do, even if I’m still missing pieces. Not that he cares, but still.
Invite me here for a fight in front of his wife who probably has no fucking clue he’s still screwing his ex when it’s convenient for him?
To say I’m on edge is an under-fucking-statement.
At first I flat-out refused, but when he used my mom as a threat against me, I had no choice but to cave to the asshole.
Who knows what he’ll pull on her next time I’m out of the house. I’ve already fallen even more days behind in school because of him and his latest stunt, I can’t afford to miss any more. He knew I’d take the time to try and figure out what exactly he accomplished by getting those documents signed.
I spent hours going over the paperwork he left, but it was all out of order and seemed pages were missing to the point where I couldn’t make any sense of it. I’m not a damn lawyer and most legal terms are lost on me, so it was more wasted time than not.
It didn’t help that whatever it was he gave my mom had her vomiting and sluggish into the next day. I’m the only one she has who cares about her, so of course I was at her side through it. I had to feed her more meds when she started shaking and getting even sicker once they began to wear off, so the two days that followed the first were spent watching my mom sleep and wishing she’d wake with a clearer mind than the one she’d laid down with.
He’s getting more reckless with her and I have no clue how to end it. Denying his request wouldn’t help any, that much is clear.
So here I am, parked outside of his place, glaring at the long walkway that leads to the front door, a giant ass welcome wreath hanging from the center of it.
I pull my phone out to check the time, but before I realize what I’m doing, I’m dialing Demi.
My muscles constrict even more when she doesn’t answer.
I haven’t talked to her since she came to my house, and it feels like too long already. She showed up, worried because I had disappeared. I should have taken the time to call her when I was out, but when shit at home gets so fucked up, I get lost.
I fuckin’ hate it.
There’s no way she didn’t see the prescribing doctor’s name on the pill bottles, and I need to prepare to talk to her about that.
I toss my phone to the side and look up again.
Fuck it.
I climb from my truck, taking my steps two at a fucking time.
The quicker I get in, the quicker I can get the hell out.
This isn’t my house and I know I’ll never truly be welcome here, but I walk in without knocking anyway.
Respecting this place is the last thing on my mind, so I don’t bother with closing the door, allowing it to slam shut behind me as I walk through the entryway, following the voices floating from around the corner.
“That must be my other son now.”
Please. I have no brother.
Man, fuck this.
I lick my lips, stand straight and mask my fucking face before moving into view.
The little bitch is the first one I spot, and his eyes meet mine, a sick, satisfied gleam staring back as he sits beside my dad as if it’s where he belongs.
Maybe it is. On the inside they’re one and the same. Both as fucked up and manipulative as the other.
“Nico,” my father says, pushing off his place against the wall.
I step farther into the room giving him nothing but a blank stare.
“Don’t be rude, son.” He’s gotten good at acting, his smile comes off generous, but his eyes are as vicious as always. He sweeps his hand out and says, “We have guests.”
Right as he says it, a little hand with pink polished nails folds over the edge of the high-backed chair facing away from me.
Inch by inch, long, dark blonde hair from scalp to tip appears, a frame I’d recognize anywhere that has no place in this living room.
My feet grow numb yet heavy, my body swaying in place as my lungs squeeze in my chest, blocking my airway.
Time fucking slows, my veins running cold when slowly, her head turns, those green eyes needing no directing, but landing right on mine.
I’ve never witnessed such an array of emotions flash across a person’s face and so quickly.
Anger, disappointment, discomfort.
Sadness.
Confusion.
Concern.
Fear?
What are you afraid of, baby?
I want to step toward her, but I’m rooted in place, fucking frozen.
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” she says, her tone cool and collected when she’s anything but.
My eyes move between hers, a sharp ache puncturing between my ribs, a pain so strong I have to look away, my glare settling on the asshole she’s referring to. “I don’t.”
Alex smirks, and I force myself to glance back to Demi.
Her face contorts, but she doesn’t say a word, and in the next second, her mom is standing beside her.
My eyes cut to my dad. “What is this?”
“I called Ms. Davenport and asked her family to join mine for dinner.”
In my peripheral, I see Demi’s head jerk toward her mom.
Fake It 'Til You Break It Page 27