by Nikki Ash
“House is mine.”
“He sold it to you?” Cat questions, taking a step back into the room.
“I took it from him years ago.” Heath grins wickedly. “It’s my house. I allowed you to live there.”
Cat gasps in shock while Heath pushes his chair out and drops into it, tossing his feet up onto his desk like he doesn’t have a fucking care in the world. Like he hasn’t just turned her world upside down.
“None of this makes any sense,” Cat whispers so low I’m not sure if she’s speaking to one of us or to herself. I place my hand against the small of her back in an attempt to comfort her, but she moves forward, stepping away from my touch and closer to Heath.
“Can he stay living there?” she pleads with a tone that screams desperation.
“No,” he answers without any hesitation, his face still devoid of all emotion. “He kept my son from me. He deserves to lose his life.”
“But—” Cat begins to argue, but Heath holds his hand up.
“Your father’s job in exchange for you both moving in here. That’s the deal.” He raises his brows at me. “What will it be?”
“Cat?” I ask her, because she’s the one whose life will be changing the most. When she doesn’t answer me, I bridge the gap between us, so I can see where her head is at. Her eyes are cast down, and I can see she’s worrying her bottom lip.
“Cat,” I say again, this time lifting her chin slightly, so she’s forced to make eye contact with me. “What do you want to do?” I drop my fingers from her face to give her the space I know she needs.
She stays silent for another moment, then turns to Heath.
“What about my horses?” she whispers softly.
“Not my problem,” Heath scoffs.
“Yes, they are,” I say.
“Fine,” he relents. “You can keep your horses here. You have until this weekend to move your shit in here, or the deal is off.”
After we’re shown out, Cat offers to drive me back home. The short drive is done in silence, both of us with a helluva lot on our minds. For me, I’m still in shock that the first time I met my father was with him fingering the one girl I care about. How could she let him do that to her, yet she won’t even give me a chance? I thought it was because she was shy. She mentioned she’s never had sex before, so I thought she was just nervous. But then she opened herself up to him with no problem. She did say he was the one who came on to her…fuck! My father better not become my fucking competition once we’re living under the same roof. He and I are going to need to have a serious chat.
When we pull up, Cat doesn’t make any attempt to get out of the car. “You okay?” I ask.
“I have to tell my dad that I’m going to live with the one man he despises the most in the world. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a shitty situation, but at least he will have his job back.”
She groans. “Somehow, I don’t think he will see it that way. Plus, after all that, he still has to move and now, not only are you being forced to live with Heath, but so am I.”
Taking her hand in mine, I bring it up to my lips for a kiss. “I don’t agree with what you did, but I know your heart was in the right place. Thank you for trying.”
“Theo.” She gives me her usual warning glare, but this time I refuse to let her go. If Cat had it her way, I would give up on us without a fight. But after what she did for me today—going to my dad with the intention of doing whatever it was he wanted just so I wouldn’t have to move in with him—proves that she has feelings for me as well.
“I can’t help how I feel about you,” I tell her honestly, taking both of her hands into mine.
“We can’t go there,” she chides, pulling out of my grasp and getting out of the car. I get out as well and come around the front, blocking her from going inside. When she tries to walk around me, my hands grip her hips to stop her.
“We could,” I insist, pulling her closer to me and willing her to feel what I feel.
“Theo, you’re hurting me.” Her brows furrow, and when I look down, I see my fingers are gripping her tightly.
Reluctantly, I release her. “I’m sorry. I just wish you would give us a chance.”
“You have to stop this,” she snaps. “Whatever you think you feel for me isn’t real, and even if it is, it’s not okay.”
I let out a frustrated sigh, wishing I could find a way for her to understand that the love I feel for her trumps whatever society deems acceptable. That when I look at her, I don’t see my cousin. I see a beautiful, smart, caring young woman. Maybe if we had grown up together I wouldn’t feel this way, but we didn’t, and I want her. And if she would stop giving a shit about what other people think, she would realize the chemistry we have is worth exploring.
“Just please promise me, you won’t go there with my dad again,” I plead. I couldn’t take it if she gave my father any more of what she won’t give me.
Father. Dad. My own flesh.
As much as I want to be excited that I know my father now, I can’t. Not after what I just witnessed.
“I promise.”
The moment we step into the house and close the door behind us, Uncle Elliot comes running out. “Tell me you didn’t go over there!” he yells. “Tell me the two of you didn’t go see Heath after I told you not to! Please! Tell me!” he begs, but it’s clear from the fear in his tone he already knows we did.
We both stare at him, our silence enough to answer him. His face crumples and he scrubs his face with his palms in frustration. “No,” he says bitterly.
“We did,” Cat says softly. “But he’s giving you back your job.”
Uncle Elliot snaps his head up, dropping his hands, and stares wildly at us, his eyes darting back and forth. “In exchange for what?”
Her shoulders hunch as she murmurs, “Theo and me going to live with him.”
I watch as Cat’s head lowers and her eyes stay trained on the floor. When I look back up, Uncle Elliot’s face is twisted up like he’s in pain.
“No. No. No. Please, no. Please, Cat. Please tell me you didn’t make a deal with him.” Uncle Elliot’s knees drop to the floor in front of Cat, and she raises her head so she can look at him.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy.” She drops to the floor so she’s eye level with her father. “I’ll still come to visit you on the weekends.”
“He’s letting me stay living here?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “But now that you have your job we won’t have to sell our cars, so I can drive into town and see you.”
“Oh, Cat, you have no idea what you’ve done.” Uncle Elliot takes Cat into his arms and hugs her like she’s his lifeline. “I should’ve run just like my sister. Taken you far away from here. Now it’s too late.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Cat whispers. “I’m going to be okay.”
While still holding his daughter in his arms, Uncle Elliot looks up at me and a single teardrop falls from his eye. “He’s done it,” he whispers. “He’s gotten his revenge.”
Emily
The Present…
I’M GOING CRAZY. NANNY LEAVES me at a crucial part in her story so we can have dinner. Mom and Dad were happily discussing a new barn she wants built for the horses, so I don’t interrupt to demand more of the story. But when Nanny excuses herself to go home and my parents are playfully bickering over whether or not barns are supposed to be red, I nearly scream in frustration.
“What’s going on?” Mom asks, her brows pulled together in concern.
“Boy problems.” Not a total lie.
“Something I can take care of?” Dad questions, flexing his bicep muscle and fisting his hand.
I let out a giggle and shake my head. “I can handle it myself.”
“That’s my girl,” he says with a grin. He flashes Mom a knowing look that I don’t interpret well. “I’m going to watch the game I DVR’d. Leave you two to your girl talk.”
He pulls Mom in for a hug and gives her
a sweet kiss before ruffling my hair and leaving us alone in the dining room.
I want what they have. The way Dad’s eyes track my mother whenever she’s in a room. How her eyes light up and she always smiles for him. It’s as though they share a secret bond and I want one. They bicker and give each other hell a lot, but they always make up. Love is present in every argument.
Finn and I argue.
But he’s like the rich assholes from Mom and Nanny’s story. Further proof that I don’t belong with someone like him.
“I’ll get this cleaned up,” Mom says. “Why don’t you grab some Moscato and meet me on the porch swing?”
“Don’t tell Dad you’re letting me drink,” I tease.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
While she cleans up from supper, I grab a couple of glasses and the bottle of wine before heading outside. Tonight, the air is crisp. It’s a starless night with all the clouds out, so I can’t see far beyond the porch.
I set the wine and glasses down to check my phone.
Finn: It’s taking everything in me not to come to you. You’re not really sick, are you?
My heart aches that Porter hasn’t responded. Sometimes, he gets busy and doesn’t look at his phone. Not like Finn, who is clearly obsessed with his.
And me.
Me: Oh, I’m sick.
Sick of him.
Finn: Emily, I’m sorry.
I frown as I read his words over and over again.
Me: For what?
Finn: That I make you angry.
I let out a satisfied grunt. He’s right. He pisses me off all the time.
Well, not all the time…
Don’t think about how his intense stare burns you right to your core. Don’t think about the way you feel on fire and light up whenever he’s near—like you might blow off like a flaming ember whisking off from a bonfire. He’s your best friend and you’re not a good fit. Don’t think about the way his hand fits perfectly in yours. Don’t think about how when you’re down, he crawls into your bed, feeds you snacks, and tickles you until you cry. Don’t think about how he sometimes brushes your hair behind your ear and lingers his fingers there as though he can’t bear to stop touching you.
Don’t. Think. About. It.
Finn: But you make me crazy.
“The nerve!” I growl, furious that I was thinking nice things about him.
Finn: You’re the only girl who can make me crazy.
My stomach flutters at his words. His stupid words. That was not romantic or sweet. He called me crazy. Asshole.
Me: You’re the crazy one!
Possessive, beastly brat.
My mind drifts to the way my skin shivers when he lazily runs his fingers along my bare skin when we watch movies. How he sometimes buries his nose in my hair and inhales me as though I smell good to him. The way he signs his initials F.B. on everything he comes in contact with—notepads, my bare skin, any dust Mom misses when she cleans.
Finn: It sounds like we have more in common than you like to admit.
I hate when he’s right. He gets this dumb gorgeous smug grin that I want to wipe right off his face. Sometimes I wonder if it’d melt away if I kissed him. A shiver of delight ripples through me.
Me: I’m not crazy.
My thumping heart begs to differ.
Finn: You’re the craziest girl I know.
Me: Go find someone else to bug.
Finn: But you’re my favorite.
My heart does a dramatic flop in my chest.
But you’re my favorite.
Ignoring him and his stupidly sweet words, I text Porter again. He didn’t respond to my last text and I didn’t really expect him too. I text him what I know will get a reply.
Me: Want to pick me up and take that drive tonight?
He never comes to my house, aside from picking me up. Sometimes I wish he’d take the time to formally meet my family and hang out, maybe watch a movie or something here. Like Finn. Instead, Porter likes to get me alone. Which, I like too, but sometimes I want more than that. Until he gets on board and wants more too, I have to go with what works. And us going off together alone is what gets me his undivided attention.
Porter: Will you be wearing panties?
I let out a groan, my neck heating. Just once, I wish he were into me for more than a fun time. I keep holding out and it gets me nowhere. I stare at my phone and can’t bring myself to reply.
Do I really want to be someone’s backup plan? Someone who only becomes important when the other has time?
Finn always has time.
Again, I think about his crooked grin and strong, athletic body. The way he’ll chase me around the kitchen island with peanut butter on his hands, taunting me. How it feels when he pins me, swipes it on my cheek, and then dramatically licks it off, making me scream.
Me: Why do you like hanging out with me?
I send the text to Finn, rather than replying to Porter, before I can second-guess myself. With Porter, it’s because we fool around. He’s a guy and he makes his needs known. But why does Finn hang around? It’s not like I satisfy any of his needs.
Finn: I think you know the answer to that question, angel. You’re funny and crazy and beautiful. I like when you fall asleep during the movie and drool all over my shirt. I like when you wake up and your green eyes are soft as you stare at me wordlessly. It’s times like those, I want to show you how you make me feel. I’m not looking to cop a feel in the backseat of my car, Emily. With you, I’m looking for a lot more. You deserve a lot more.
My heart catches in my throat as I read his words over and over again. He’s right. I do deserve a lot more. A lot more than Porter gives me.
Mom comes out wearing an unusual smile and carrying a blanket. I’m dying to hear the rest of this story, but I’m also freaking out about Finn and his texts. I want to reply, but I need a minute to get a handle on my emotions. I toss my phone on the table and cuddle up beside Mom when she sits down on the swing with me.
But you’re my favorite.
Another tug at my heartstrings.
“Want to talk about the boy problems?” Mom asks as she pours us our wine and nods at my phone. She could always sense my mood. I’m guessing I’m that obvious.
I grab my glass and sit back, shaking my head. “No, I want you to tell me about your boy problems. It seemed like everything turned out like it was supposed to in the end. Everyone got their happily ever afters. I need hope.”
Hope that I can navigate my feelings. I want to be smart, but my heart is confused. It’s doing erratic little flops at the idea of Finn and me in an actual relationship. One that’s not just friendly flirting and arguing over silly things. But more. So much more.
And that scares me. Because in all the months I’ve been hanging out with Porter, my heart has never flip-flopped for him the way it is right now for Finn.
Mom chuckles. “Well, it didn’t come easy, that’s for sure.”
“I’m ready. Give it to me straight.”
“Where did Helen leave off?”
“Somewhere around the time when a deal was made with the devil and you had to go live at Windy Hills,” I say.
“Ah, it was just getting ugly then.”
My phone buzzes, and I ignore it despite the thundering inside my chest. “I can handle some ugly.”
It’s better than thinking of Finn and his stupid pretty smile and his stupid sweet words.
But you’re my favorite.
Harrison
The Past…
WHAT THE FUCK?
I look up from where I’m changing the tire on my bike to see Heath pulling into the driveway. In a new car. A fucking Porsche 911 Turbo S with tricked out chrome wheels. I stand and let out a whistle of appreciation. It’s metallic black with flecks of silver in the paint that catch the afternoon sun.
Holy shit, it’s gorgeous.
He slams the door a little too hard for my liking—because a car that beautiful deserves to
be coddled and adored—and tosses the keys my way. I catch them before they hit the ground. My chest tightens, but I don’t dare give into hope that it’s mine. Heath isn’t kind and generous. He’s a dick. Usually a dick with a plan. I’m sure this is part of said plan.
“Make sure it’s gassed up and then I want you to teach him how to drive it,” he says, without looking my way as he strides up to the house.
I fist the keys and stalk after him. “Who?”
He stops and turns to regard me with narrowed eyes. “My son. Who the hell do you think I was talking about?”
Gritting my teeth, I swallow down the urge to throttle the fucker. “So he’s really coming to live with us?”
His nostrils flare. “He’s. My. Son,” he says, punctuating each word as though that explains everything. He motions at the house and the car. “Of course he’s coming to live here. This is all his.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. “When will he get here?”
“After school I presume.” His expression turns cold. “If they’re not here in the next hour, I’ll hunt them down myself.”
Them?
I frown at him. “His uncle is coming too?”
The cold, calculating smile he wears like a fucking uniform spreads across his face. “No. My son and his pretty little cousin.”
Cat.
She’s a bit of a diva and kind of a brat, but she can’t come live here. Heath would eat her alive.
“Why?” I demand, the word coming out harsher than I intend.
He studies me with curiosity. “Because she made a deal with me. She stays here and her daddy can keep his job.”
“You’re not going to…” I trail off and run my palm over my sweaty neck. Fuck her?
I don’t have to say the rest of my question because he knows exactly what I mean. His brown eyes gleam wickedly, making a flash of anger burn through me.
“As tempting as that sounds because she’s quite a delicious little girl, I have other plans for her.” He stares off down the road where a car is approaching, kicking up dust. “I always have plans.”
“What plans?” I ask. Normally I don’t care what the fuck Heath does. Now? I fucking care. Him messing with Cat doesn’t sit right with me.