by Olivia Lynde
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm telling you," I confirm carefully.
His expression turns steely with determination. "You aren't staying in that house another night."
I furrow my forehead, puzzled. "I'm not?"
"No, you're not, Sunny—because you're moving in with me." His tone is firm with resolve. "I was already torn about letting you sleep away from me, especially knowing about your nightmares. But what Jessica did last night was really the last straw. So earlier, when you asked if you could leave your clothes here, you played exactly into my plan. I'd been wanting to talk to you about staying with me, but I was unsure how you'd react."
Umm... shocked, confused, disbelieving? Ecstatic?
"I already decided last night," he says, "that I couldn't stand by and let you go back to living in that nest of vipers, with Jessica and her mother. And now that I know you're also in real physical danger if you go on staying there, there's no way I'll allow that to happen!"
So I should move in with him? I gulp. Okay, I can't touch that right now. Easier to address another issue first. "Come on, Seth, Jessica isn't a psychopath. She wouldn't hurt me in my sleep."
While saying these words, however, I realize that I am by no means convinced they are even true. I can totally picture that hell's spawn slipping into my room in the middle of the night—precisely at one of the rare moments when I'm actually sleeping—and slashing my face or something. She had a really crazy glint in her eyes when she came to gloat last evening, after she destroyed all my things. Plus, the fact that her usually-wrapped-around-her-finger Daddy actually fought with her because of me, her abhorred enemy, would have shot her loathing for me from the stratosphere straight into the cosmos.
Seth, too, disagrees with my voiced opinion. "Sunny, what Jessica did, tearing all your stuff to shreds—that isn't the act of a sane person. I wouldn't want you in her house even if you had a titanium door that you could lock in ten places to keep her away. You told me yourself how toxic that place was for you.
"Besides, if Jessica's already gone this far just because you took back your letters—how do you think she'll react when she hears that you're with me now?"
Oh, lordy! I hadn't even thought of that yet. "She won't be happy," I mutter. And that's a gargantuan understatement, if there ever was one!
"To say the least," Seth agrees with a terse nod. "And I don't want that bitch anywhere near you."
We've finished setting the groceries in the fridge and the kitchen cupboards. He comes to me, places his right hand on my nape, tips my head back. He kisses my temple softly, then trails his lips down my cheek, giving me nibbling kisses. On reaching the corner of my mouth, he captures my lower lip between his own, sucks it teasingly, withdraws a bit.
"I won't risk you getting hurt," he whispers against my parted mouth, his breath falling sweetly on my face.
"But the fosters..." I stutter, dazed by the perfection of his lips.
He presses his mouth against my own, and I feel his tongue caressing my lips, pushing slightly between them. My mouth opens a bit more. He withdraws a bare inch, rasps out, "I'll take care of your foster parents. Sunny, I know my place isn't much too look at, but it won't always be like this, I promise. And we'll be together."
Once again he surges forward toward my parted lips, and this time his tongue slips into my mouth—the first time he's ever kissed me like this—and it feels strange, yet so... indescribably... mind-blowingly... hot.
My arms lift around his neck and I pull him closer, lost in his kiss. His tongue caresses the inside of my mouth, and a moan escapes my throat. His tongue is now playing with my own, and I respond tentatively, moving my tongue to stroke his. He moans and slowly ends the kiss.
His feverish gaze locks with my stunned one, and his raspy voice is a sorcerer's enchantment: "Summer Moore, my Sunny, will you please move in with me?"
Without the slightest uncertainty, I say, "Yes." A thousand times yes!
His eyes blaze with satisfaction and joy, and he swoops in for another mind-bending kiss.
Later, after we reluctantly disentangle ourselves from each other, Seth goes back to the car to bring the rest of the shopping bags inside. I go with him and try to help, but just like the first time, he doesn't let me carry anything heavier than five pounds. Heavens, he really has it bad!
We decide to go that very night and talk with Greg.
Holy smoke, I still have trouble believing this actually happened, that Seth asked me and I agreed to stay with him at his place. But I truly want this, so very much! Not because I'm afraid of Jessica—though getting away from her poison is definitely a major attraction—but because I genuinely want to be with Seth. God, how I want it!
After spending the past two days with him, I haven't the least doubt about my decision to live with him. I want the security and the restfulness and the pure happiness that only he can give me. For the short time that I can still have it.
I want Seth.
I realize that our relationship may seem like it's moving too fast; I became his girlfriend just the other night, and less than 24 hours later, I'm thinking of moving in with him. But this isn't your run-of-the-mill relationship. We aren't a regular couple. And for us, this doesn't feel rushed or thoughtless.
How it feels is natural and necessary. And right.
We've known and loved each other practically our entire lives, and I trust Seth unconditionally. It's true that my love for him has added new layers recently, but that too feels natural. It feels like we were always meant for each other.
So nothing had better stand in our way!
Chapter 22
Seth has parked his BMW in front of the Andersons' residence.
Alighting from the car, he strides round its front and opens my door on the passenger side. I clasp his waiting palm and rise from my seat. Holding hands, we then walk up to the house entrance. I make to search for my key, but he stops me with a headshake and presses the doorbell instead.
"Stop trembling!" he orders in a low tone. "It'll be all right."
"I'm not trembling." I'm totally trembling! But I can't help it, I'm so very nervous! How couldn't I be when the stakes for which Seth and I are about to battle are so high?!
He lifts his free hand to my face, stroking my cheek. "Sunny, I'm here with you. Trust me, okay?"
I look into his eyes, lean into his touch, and feel the tension seep out of me. I give a small nod. Of course I trust him.
The door opens, framing Greg. He looks at us in polite inquiry.
"Yes? Can I help—?" He trails off as belated recognition dawns on his face. "Summer?" He gives me a quick onceover, then a second one. "You look... different." He seems bowled over.
I shuffle my feet, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "Thanks. I went shopping for some new clothes today."
I'm wearing my new skinny jeans, a light blue undershirt beneath a form-fitting violet v-blouse, and my dark gray coat. My hair is up in a high ponytail, with a few tendrils left loose and curling around my face. On the way here, I also put on some raspberry-flavored lip gloss.
Judging by Seth's many admiring glances at me, I look fine (in fact, when I asked him if I looked okay, before heading here, he told me I was "too damn sexy for my—and especially his—own good", and proceeded to prove his sincerity by stealing my breath with a scorching kiss). Judging by Greg's incredulous expression, I also look vastly different than when he last saw me. So mission accomplished, I guess?
My foster finally manages to unfreeze his tongue. "Why did you ring the bell, Summer? Did you forget your key?"
"I'm here with Seth," I state in lieu of a real answer.
He steps in at once. "Mr. Anderson, I'm Seth Lewis, and we'd like to talk with you." His tone is polite, but just underneath the civility, a thread of steel can be heard distinctly.
Greg raises an eyebrow in renewed surprise and steps back. "Of course. Please come inside."
We enter the living room together, and I immediately catch sight o
f Louise sitting on the couch. On noticing us, she rises to her feet slowly. When her gaze falls on me, her mouth tightens perceptibly and her eyes frost over. Seth gives my hand an encouraging squeeze; he's obviously caught Louise's reaction.
"What's the meaning of this?" she asks.
Greg throws her an abstracted glance. "It's fine, Louise. Summer and her friend want to speak to me." Then, turning to us: "Shall we move to the library?"
"Wait, I'll join you!" she interposes quickly.
Seth looks her straight in the eye. "I apologize, Mrs. Anderson, but Summer and I need to talk with your husband in private. I hope you won't mind." He smiles at her winningly. "It'll only take a few minutes."
I recognize that his smile is no more than a shallow facsimile and that his eyes are cold, but Louise is nevertheless dazzled. This boy is truly out of this world gorgeous, and even stick-in-the-mud Louise isn't immune. I swear, if he could bottle his extreme hotness and charm and sell them on the Internet, he'd make millions overnight.
Exposed to just a particle of Seth's lethal allure, Louise starts tripping over her tongue. "Yes, yes, of course, I only thought—"
Seth promptly turns back to Greg with an expectant look, and I see that my foster father is regarding him with new-found respect. He leads us into the library, where he sinks into an armchair while my boy and I sit down on the small couch opposite.
Greg's eyes flash to our clasped hands, then back to Seth's face. "Mr. Lewis, do please tell me what this is all about." He furrows his brow in reflection. "Your name sounds very familiar, but I can't quite place it yet."
Seth is watching the foster intently, trying to take his measure, I suppose. He replies, "You probably know my name because you bought this house from my mother, Janice Lewis."
Greg's brow clears a bit. "Ah, yes! Four years ago, was it not?"
"Actually," Seth contradicts with a slight edge, "it was five years ago, Mr. Anderson."
My foster gives him a puzzled look. "Hmm... yes, that might be right." He shrugs apologetically. "The truth is that I'm awful with dates. But no, there was another reason why your name seemed so familiar... Ah, yes! You are that boy who was Jessica's first boyfriend. I remember you used to come by the house quite often looking for her." He chuckles. "My daughter used to wait on pins and needles for your arrival and would jump to answer the door the moment the bell rang. I thought she was rather young at the time to have a boyfriend, but oh, well... She insisted that it wasn't anything serious and didn't even want to introduce you to me and her mother. How interesting that we should finally meet now."
Seth's features have turned to granite, except for that tiny facial muscle leaping rhythmically above his jaw. Ooh, he's furious. "First of all, Mr. Anderson, you should know that until five years ago I lived in this house with my Grandma. And with a girl who had been fostered to Grandma." Seth holds Greg's gaze very firmly. "That girl was Summer."
My foster assumes a surprised expression and shoots me an inquiring glance. "I wasn't aware of that."
Seth continues somberly, "When Grams died and social services took Summer away, we vowed to keep in touch. Summer was supposed to write me a letter with her new contact information." Pinning Greg's mildly interested gaze, Seth informs him grimly, "My visits to your house five years ago were not because of your daughter Jessica—but because I was waiting for word from Summer. She'd left town before this house was sold, so she'd have written to me at this address. Jessica promised to be on the lookout for any letters for me."
I see realization starting to dawn in Greg's eyes even as a chilling thread of anger starts to underline Seth's words. "Jessica told me that Summer never sent any letters. She bare-faced lied, Mr. Anderson. Summer wrote me 365 letters before giving up when she didn't hear back from me in over a year. Your daughter deliberately kept Summer's letters from me, and we only found out about this two days ago when Summer recovered the letters from Jessica's room."
My foster has paled noticeably. In a quiet voice, he asks me, "Are those letters that important something that Jessica kept insisting that you had stolen from her?"
"Yes," I confirm. "But I didn't steal them; they were never Jessica's in the first place."
Greg sighs heavily.
Seth addresses him again. "Mr. Anderson, Summer and I have always been very close. Five years ago, when we thought that the other had betrayed our promise to keep in touch... it was very painful for both of us." Fiercely, he adds, "And you should know that I was never Jessica's boyfriend: not five years ago, not at any other time. If Jessica ever told you differently, she straight-out lied—again."
My foster pales further and has to look away from Seth's blazing eyes.
Just then the door opens, and Jessica enters. On seeing us, she adopts an air of innocent confusion. Of course, Louise must have gone and told her about our arrival.
When Jessica focuses on me, her perplexed expression wavers, flashing with shock quickly followed by loathing before she recovers her composure.
"I didn't know there was anyone in here!" she exclaims sweetly. Then, smiling hugely at my boyfriend: "Hey, Seth! You should've told me that you were here."
His eyes have iced over. "Why? I'm not here for you." He deliberately moves our joined hands a bit, thus drawing Jessica's attention to them.
Her mask crumbles again, revealing ugly rage. I meet her incensed glower without fear even as I instinctively press myself into Seth's side—though with the way we're sitting, we're practically glued together already. Jessica notes that movement as well, and her expression darkens further.
Greg, having obviously seen through Jessica's ploy, tells her furiously, "You have no business coming in here, young lady! Leave this room and leave us to our conversation!"
"But Daddy!..." she protests, outraged.
Yet contrary to norm, her father is seemingly not in the mood to pander to her whims just now. The things he's seen and learned about his little princess in the past 24 hours must have shaken him hard. He jumps to his feet and stares at her with true threat.
"I told you to leave us to our conversation! Did you hear me say that? Did you?!" His enraged voice reverberates inside the room.
"Yes," she answers, cowed.
"Then leave here now! I will speak to you later."
Jessica whirls around and strides out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Her father stands frozen, just looking at the closed door for long moments. Then he turns back to us and retakes his seat in the armchair.
"I apologize for the interruption," he tells us in a tired tone.
Seth says though gritted teeth, "Summer is now my girlfriend, and after what just happened, I think you'll admit too that there'll be trouble with Jessica because of this. She's already been making life in this house very difficult for Summer. Yesterday, when she destroyed all of Summer's things—it was just one episode in the war of attrition she's been carrying against my girl from the very start."
My foster nods in sad agreement. Well! So he wasn't as completely oblivious to what's been happening in his house as he seemed to be. Most likely, he just decided to ignore it all because that was easiest for him, I conclude with contempt.
Seth looks at Greg with steadfast purpose. "That was Jessica's revenge just because Summer took back her letters. I don't know what she'll try to do next, but I don't feel comfortable thinking that Summer has to sleep under the same roof as your daughter—especially when she can't even lock her door for protection."
"We could install a lock," the foster suggests, surprising me.
Seth raises an incredulous eyebrow at the blithe offer. "That'd be like putting a band-aid over a gunshot wound, Mr. Anderson. It won't solve the actual problem here."
The foster sighs again. "So what do you propose that we should do instead, Mr. Lewis?"
Unflinching resolve radiates from Seth's expression. "I want to take responsibility for Summer. We've talked things through, and we'd like to move in together. But I want to ask you to stay on offi
cially as her foster parent until August."
I stare at Seth in complete awe. Heavens, he sounds and looks so confident, so self-possessed! He has such a commanding personality that, standing next to him, even Greg—this allegedly brilliant, prominent doctor—seems... well, feeble.
Meanwhile, my foster's expression battles between astonishment and outrage. "Are you asking me to permit a sixteen-year-old girl who has been placed in my care by the State to move in with her older boyfriend?" He turns to me: "Summer, are you out of your mind?"
I tighten my grip on Seth's hand and answer Greg warily, "Seth and I think this is the best solution."
My boy retains his cool, but his voice turns cutting: "The fact of the matter, Mr. Anderson, is that Summer can't stay in your house anymore. You know that Jessica would make her life hell. And Summer doesn't deserve more unhappiness; she's already gone through more pain and grief than anyone should have to!"
Greg makes a visible effort to calm down. At length, he proposes quietly, "If Summer truly can't live under my roof any longer, then perhaps she should go back to the State."
I recoil from the blow, and Seth's expression hardens forbiddingly. "Mr. Anderson, this is Summer's seventeenth foster home in five years. Rockford High is her eighth school in that time. And there's less than six weeks to go until the end of the school year. In this situation, you're actually considering to put Summer through the turmoil of moving again and changing schools?" His voice is like a blast of frost and ice; even my skin breaks out in goose bumps. Greg flinches.
"Mr. Anderson, the truth is you owe us," my boy continues forcefully, and the foster's eyes widen in surprise. "Because of your daughter, Summer and I have already lost five years together. So because of your daughter, you owe us for the harm she caused. Most of all, you owe Summer, who you brought into your home, not to let her be mentally abused in this house or kicked out because your daughter is a vindictive witch."
Greg's eyes take on an intense glitter. "How do I know that you can be trusted with Summer?"
And oh my God—I almost collapse in relief at hearing this question. He's going to give in! He's going to let me go with Seth! I am now gripping Seth so anxiously that I'm probably hurting him, but he just brings our joined hands to his lap and starts to caress the back of my hand with his free palm.