Carter, who mocked me every time I tried to watch a home makeover show, had chosen a deep purple for the walls. There were accent colors: teal and lime used on throw pillows, curtains, and an afghan draped on the navy couch. There was a rug the color of paprika, and the chair where I sat to eat my pizza was huge. Big enough for three of me. It had once been a deep chocolate color—before use and age had faded the leather into a series of comfortable wrinkles.
If I hadn’t been trying so, so hard to make myself chew, swallow, and hold back tears, I would have teased him for it.
I gave up on my pizza and wandered into the kitchen, feeling their eyes tracking my moves. It was a small room, separated from the main living space by a breakfast bar with two stools and dominated by a freezer that took up the whole wall between the fridge and trash can.
There were coffee mugs in the sink. “Were you guys here recently?”
“No,” said Garrett at the same time Carter said, “Yeah … I mean, no.”
I’d had a decade to accept that people often told me lies to spare my feelings. This one hurt more than most, because it was pointless and transparent.
“This thing is massive. What’s in it?” I tugged on the freezer’s lid, but it was either locked or iced shut.
“It came with the apartment. It’s empty. Broken. I just haven’t gotten rid of it yet,” Carter said.
But it was plugged in. It hummed with electricity, and there were spots of water on the floor at its base. Like melted freezer frost—the kind knocked off if the lid was slammed quickly because you were hurrying to open the door.
I gave Carter a you’re-full-of-it look, which he chose to ignore, and tugged on the lid again.
“Princess, stop,” said Garrett. “Don’t make your hand worse.”
I stepped away as if it might burn me. Not that I’d been doing anything remotely bruise-worthy. At least not if my counts were still where they’d been seven days ago.
Carter balled up his plate, uneaten pizza and all. “You done, Gare? Let’s go.”
If they kept this place a secret, there must be a reason, and I was running out of time. Maybe they wouldn’t let me see what was in the freezer, but not everything was locked. I grabbed the fridge door and opened it triumphantly: nothing but pickles, cheese, jam, and tiny plastic packets of soy sauce and mustard.
I left the kitchen and turned to go down the hallway, but Garrett was out of his seat in a flash, standing between me and the three remaining doors.
“It’s time to go.”
“Don’t I get the rest of the tour?” I asked.
“I think that’s enough for tonight.”
“But …”
“We’re leaving, Pen,” Carter said. “If you’re up for it, we’ll take you off-estate again soon—maybe even actually see a play next time. Or Korean barbecue. Right now I just want to get you home without further damage.”
I didn’t want to be placated. I didn’t want Carter to suffer through musicals or feel guilted into letting me tag along to dinner. I wanted him to respect me, include me. And while I may have gotten in the front door of their nineteen-year-olds’ version of a boys’ clubhouse, I still wasn’t good enough for their secrets.
“I’m fine.” The words sounded like a prayer—they were a prayer.
On the ride home, Carter chatted nonstop about the area, naming the cross streets, the distinguishing characteristics of the building, the apartment number. He told me where he had keys hidden—two keys, two different locations. The one for the main door was taped inside the top of the mailbox for apartment 5F. The mailbox itself could be popped open if you pressed on the bottom left corner. To access the apartment key, you had to go behind the staircase, get down on your stomach, and feel around on the bottom of the third stair to find the spot where it was magnetically attached.
It was chatter I normally would’ve loved and recorded on my map app, but it was also noise to prevent me from asking questions—pointless pity information, since I’d never be able to use any of it without him. And after tonight, who knew when I’d get off-estate again.
“Though, with your map obsession, you probably know New York better than I do. Bet we could drop you anywhere in the city and you could find the apartment.”
“Why don’t we try it and see?” I suggested.
“Not funny,” said Garrett with a groan. He reached around his back, pulling up his shirt to expose muscles and skin … and the black lines of his holster. “Can’t sit comfortably with this thing.” He pulled out the gun and placed it in the glove box.
Carter laughed. “Better?”
“Much.”
They relaxed and I tensed up. It was another unwelcome reminder of how they’d changed and I was still me. I cradled my hand in my lap and stared at the bruises. Hated them. Hated my skin. Hated the blood beneath it and the platelets within that.
Chapter 5
When Carter turned on the musical score I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see the pity in his. With the quiet music and smooth motion of the car, going from faking sleep to actually sleeping was effortless.
I woke because Carter was saying my name. Or maybe it was Garrett. Their heads were bent close as they debated in tense whispers with words and phrases that seemed as foreign as Mandarin. The music was off. It was just past eleven, and we’d traded the highway for the slow roads leading to the estate.
“Who’s dead meat?” I stretched, covered a yawn, and rubbed the spot where the seat belt had pressed against my shoulder when my head lolled in sleep. “Besides both of you if I had my way. Jerks.”
Carter didn’t even have the good sense to look guilty as he snorted. “It’s not a who, it’s a what.”
“Shut up.” Garrett glared at my brother. “Go back to sleep, Penny.”
“Make me,” I whispered through gritted teeth. Either they didn’t hear my lame retort or they pretended not to.
Conversation dropped to a taut silence until we reached the estate. Carter waved to Ian in the guardhouse. He did a flashlight sweep over the interior of the car before hitting the button to open the gates. As usual, when they closed behind us my throat constricted, my skin felt tighter, and I had a moment’s sympathy for every zoo animal everywhere.
Carter parked outside the garage. “Gare, can you walk Penny back to her room? I need to deal with—” He nodded his head at the back of the Mercedes.
“Need any help with that?” I asked. Garrett opened my door and I tried to maneuver around him, but he was faster and bigger. More than capable of blocking my view of the trunk.
Carter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Pen, I know you’re disappointed, and I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am,” I snapped.
He pushed Garrett out of the way and bent so his eyes were level with mine. “I want to include you—let me just figure out a way to do it. A way that keeps you safe.”
I hissed my answer from between clenched teeth. “Has it ever occurred to you that if whatever you’re involved in is too dangerous for me and has to be kept secret from Father, then maybe you shouldn’t be doing it?”
“Yeah, actually, it has.” He scrubbed at his face with both hands, looking suddenly exhausted.
And then I was the one feeling guilty for pushing him too far, searching for a way to make him smile. “You still owe me Korean barbecue. And it better be the best thing I’ve ever tasted after all this hype.”
“Good night, Pen.”
“Come on,” said Garrett, and I followed him up the walk to the side door.
“Will you tell me what’s in the trunk?”
“At this point, nothing. Some empty coolers and leftover dry ice. Let it go, okay?”
“Were there organs? And if so, why in the world were you transporting them like that instead of through the regular channels?”
“Penny, it’s late, I’m tired. Please, just go in the house.”
I sighed and punched in the unlock code. “You know, if I were a regular girl, a guy
walking me to my door at the end of the night would be a date.”
Garrett raised one reddish eyebrow in a look that made my pulse jump. “Oh, yeah?”
I let him enter first, his gray-green eyes scanning all corners of the rooms that lit up automatically as we passed through. I liked the estate best late at night. There were still security at the gate and patrolling, but there weren’t Family members and staff around every rounded corner. This was the only time of day it felt more like a house and less like the headquarters of the Business.
In the foyer I paused beneath the chandelier. Its crystals seemed to drip down and form the abstract sculpture displayed on the marble table that stood between the dual staircases that curved up to the second floor.
I put one hand on my hip and pointed a finger at him, at the muscles visible through the navy cotton of his shirt. “Though he’d take me on a more romantic evening than clandestine parking lot shadiness and a rat-infested apartment.”
“Don’t let Carter hear you call his place rat-infested. And don’t forget dinner—that was good pizza.” Garrett followed me up the left branch of the stairs. His hand on the railing right beside mine, his breath and voice in my ear.
I stopped at the top and turned to face him—our eyes, noses, mouths were almost level from my vantage point two steps above him. “On my date, we’d eat dinner off real plates, not ones made of paper.”
Garrett’s smile changed from amusement to something warmer, something that touched his eyes and made him look younger, less intense—more like the boy I’d grown up crushing on than the duty-focused man who’d come home from college with a gun.
“And would you let this guy kiss you at your door?” He stepped around me and into the hallway that led to my bedroom.
“That’s for me to know.” I dropped my voice so it wouldn’t carry down the opposite hallway toward the light that crept out from under my parents’ bedroom door. My heart was pounding so loud, I had a hard time believing they couldn’t hear its drumbeat.
Though maybe they could, because the door cracked open and Mother stepped out, all regal elegance with her hair down and curling around the shoulders of her satin robe. I froze where I was, half in her hallway, half in my own.
“How was your night, sweet pea? How are you?”
“Fun. Great.” With my bruised hand behind my back, I made a stay put gesture to Garrett. He was close. So close I could feel his body heat and all I wanted to do was lean into it. “Thanks for letting me go, but can we talk in the morning?” I yawned.
“Of course. Get some rest.”
“You too.”
Before her door was even completely shut, I was turning to Garrett, hoping the interruption hadn’t killed the flirtation and energy of the moments before. He was waiting, eyes on me with an intensity that made me need to fill the silence. “Where were we? Oh, right. I was knowing things.” I could feel my cheeks warming with blushes, but I still added, “Kissing things.”
“And I was going to ask if I could find them out,” Garrett whispered, his voice deep. “May I?”
“That depends.” I continued down the hall to my bedroom. He followed. “Not if you’re going to treat me like I’m not old or smart enough to make my own decisions.”
“You can’t ask me not to care about you. I’m always going to want to keep you safe.” He reached for my doorknob, and for a moment he was all stiffness and attention as he pushed it open and scanned my room.
It was a moment I needed. To catch my breath. To convince myself that this was reality and not a fairy-tale fantasy.
He turned away from my room and looked at me in a way he never had before. This was not the look he’d given me when he’d lost a bet at eleven and Carter had told him to kiss me as punishment.
It was a gaze of fire and flames and like he wanted to devour me whole—and something else too … fear? Like maybe he was as nervous as I was. It was a combination so intimidating and thrilling that even as I edged closer and tilted my chin up, I couldn’t help but use my least favorite word. “You’ll be careful? My counts are good, so you can touch me, just be gentle.”
“I’d never hurt you, princess.” His voice was low, vibrating with emotion, and his hands were in my hair, the tips of his fingers barely skimming my skin. He leaned down—
“Pen? You still up?” Carter’s footsteps padded up the carpet of the stairs, smashing the moment before it had truly begun.
Garrett let go of my hair and stepped backward, but not fast enough. Or maybe too fast. Maybe the sight of Garrett and me framed in the doorway to my bedroom wouldn’t have tipped off Carter if we hadn’t been so frantic to put space between our bodies.
“No,” he growled.
“Carter—” We said it in unison—which made it worse, made us both fall silent.
Finally I swallowed. “Did you want something?”
“Never mind. Penny, go in your room and go to sleep. Garrett, you forgot your piece in the car.”
I’d never hated anything as much as the hunk of metal in Carter’s hand. The way it had scared me in the parking lot, the way it had poisoned this moment, the way my brother looked comfortable holding it, and the way Garrett was turning pale.
“You’re not gonna tell your dad I forgot it, are you?” He cursed under his breath. “Or my dad? My brothers?”
“No,” said Carter. “But you’ll be lucky if I don’t shoot you with it.”
I squeaked and grabbed the hem of Garrett’s shirt.
“Don’t touch her,” Carter snapped when Garrett moved to put his hand on mine. “I was joking, but if you bruise her, I won’t be.”
“Hey!” Garrett sounded, if possible, angrier than Carter. “If you think I’d leave so much as a mark on Penelope—”
“Stop it!” I stepped between them.
Once, when I was ten, Carter had whacked me instead of Garrett when they were “roughhousing”—I’d missed the fireworks of Father’s wrath, but even from the isolation of my bed in the clinic, I’d known the consequences were severe. Just the fact that neither of them was allowed to visit me proved that. They’d learned the lesson well, and now both of them practically leaped backward to give me space: Garrett into my room and Carter farther into the hall.
“You’re both being ridiculous. Just stop.”
Carter curled one hand into a fist, but he reached past me and handed Garrett the gun.
Garrett tucked it in the holster beneath his shirt and edged around me into the hall. He drummed his fingers on the wall before giving me a weak smile. “I’m sorry, princess.”
A quick nod to Carter and he was leaving. Walking away.
I ducked my head so they wouldn’t see that those words hurt more than any physical bruise.
“Pen?” Carter’s pity was like a thumb pressing on a sore spot. Good thing I had plenty of experience hiding pain.
I turned around to face him, eyebrows raised, face blank. “What’s up?”
He snorted. “You’re something else, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“I know.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead, ruffling the front of his blond hair. “You’re this crazy mix of too-old-for-your-age and too innocent.”
I shook my hair out of my face and glared at him. “Don’t even start with me. I almost kiss Garrett and you throw a fit? My nonexistent love life is none of your business. If anyone should be mad, it’s me—your timing is awful. Couldn’t that mystery thing in your trunk have kept you busy just two minutes longer?”
I could see the arguments swirling in his eyes, in the clenching of his jaw, but he exhaled slowly. “Fine. It’s not a big deal. I guess. I don’t know. That’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”
“No? Well, if you’re not here to play some sort of purity police, what do you want? To lie to me some more?”
“I get it. I’m a jerk. I’m the world’s worst brother—” He banged a hand against the wall. “But if you’ll listen for a minute, I came up here to apologize. You h
ave a right to know what’s going on and make your own decisions.”
“Oh.” I’d reached for my door, planned a rageful slam in his face, but instead I leaned against the frame—it was rounded. When I’d first been diagnosed Mother had hired a team of architects to smooth out all the corners of the rooms I used most. Reduce the sharp edges, pad the hard surfaces, hide the marble stairs beneath cushioned carpet. I looked up at Carter and in a voice squeaky with surprise, I asked, “Really?”
“Sorry I freaked out over your bruises—and if you want to go to school, I’m on your side. I’ll help you convince Mother and Father.”
“You think it’s possible?” My whisper was a desperate plea for reassurance.
“Yeah, I do. You’ve got to pick your battles, Pen, but then fight to the death for the ones that matter. This matters.”
“That sounds like it should be my screen saver.” A bit of confidence was creeping back into my voice, back into my veins.
“Oh, I’m full of motivational clichés: Go, fight, win; Ask forgiveness, not permission; If you want respect, demand it; ‘No’ is never the final answer, and something about doors, windows, and a rocking chair.”
“Remind me to get you some pom-poms for your next birthday.” I tugged on his sleeve. “You’re a good guy, Carter Landlow.”
His smile disappeared. “I hope so.”
“Although good guys aren’t usually the ones shooting out tires.” I’d been aiming for a joke, but his face went pale. “Carter? What really happened tonight?”
“Something I’m starting to think was a mistake.” He shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Ask me something else, Pen. I’ll tell you anything else about the Business.”
“Okay …” I was torn between wanting to help with whatever was stressing him and wanting answers before he changed his mind. “What about the Everlys? I get that they’re amoral slime, but are they really a threat to our Family?”
“You mean besides the fact that Nolan’s using them as reason eight hundred we should support the Organ Act? He gave a two-hour presentation on it yesterday morning. Two hours of explaining why we should support a law that would make it legal to pay organ donors—and pretty much put ourselves out of business. Two hours.”
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