Chapter Twenty-Eight 

 

 

I sprint the last quarter mile until the long stretch of our driveway comes into view.  Only then do I allow my legs to slow.  Running is the only thing that settles my mind, allowing me a rare slice of peace.  I push myself until a burn grows in my chest before spreading to the rest of my body like an infection.  When thoughts of Kingsley pop into my head, I force my legs to pump faster until all I’m able to focus on is my labored breath.  The endorphins kick in and for a few blissful moments, there’s nothing but the road stretched out in front of me. 

Once I reach the house, I finish my workout with a few stretches before walking through the front door and stumbling to a halt.  Mom is on her hands and knees scrubbing at the marble tile floor.  A bucket of water is next to her.  I unzip the pocket of my shorts, pull out my phone, and turn off the music before removing the AirPods from my ears. 

“Hey.”  My chest rises and falls with the sharp pants that leave my body.  “What are you doing?” 

Mom has always kept a clean house, but this is a little obsessive even for her. 

“Just making sure everything is immaculate,” she murmurs, not bothering to glance up from the spot she’s scrubbing.  

When she doesn’t elaborate any further, I follow up with, “Why?” 

She glances up and blinks.  “Did you forget that we’re having people over tonight?” 

“Oh, right.”  Actually, I did. 

My heart sinks at the idea of all those Hawthorne assholes filling my house.  I’ve done my best to push this party to the back of my mind and forget about it.  Guess I did too good of a job.  I shift my weight and glance away.  “Is attendance mandatory?” 

If I’m lucky, this is more of an adult affair and I can skip it. 

Her eyes widen as she straightens, sitting back on her heels.  “Of course you have to attend!  It’s important that our family appear as a united front.” 

I humph out a breath as the edges of my lips draw down.  Schmoozing a bunch of townies isn’t exactly how I want to spend my Saturday night. 

“What’s the point of this again?”  Exasperation tinges my voice.  Before she’s able to respond, I tack on, “Do you really think this will change how people perceive us?”  I couldn’t even change the mind of one person, let alone the whole school.  Mom doesn’t understand what we’re up against.  Admittedly, in the beginning, neither did I.  I still don’t have a full picture.  What I do know is that the history in this town goes way back.  And the memories go back even further. 

“I hope so,” she admits in a tight voice.  “We need everything to go smoothly.  This has to work.” 

“What has to work?”  I blink as her odd choice of words echo through my head.  “Is there something going on?” 

My parent’s behavior has grown increasingly strained over the last week.  They’re both showing signs of cracking.  Mom is edgier than usual, and Dad has become even more tight-lipped about the company and the history of this town.  Every time I attempt to work a few questions into our conversations, he swiftly shuts them down.  If I didn’t have so much shit to deal with, I would take the time to dig deeper. 

Mom jerks her shoulders and presses her lips together.  For a long moment, I wonder if she’ll respond. 

“Your grandmother,” she says haltingly, “was not a beloved figure in Hawthorne.” 

Ha!  From what I’ve discovered, that’s an understatement.  She had a difficult relationship with her own son, so it only stands to reason that there were other people in her life she couldn’t get along with. 

Not exactly a shocking revelation. 

“Because of that,” Mom continues, “she created even more bad blood with the Rothchild family, which eventually bled over to the town.”  I’m taken aback by her show of emotion when she buries her face in her hands.  “It’s all such a mess, Summer.” 

My eyes widen and I shift my weight, unsure how to comfort her.  This kind of outburst isn’t like my mother.  She’s usually so upbeat and cheerful. 

“Mom, I—” 

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize.  I shouldn’t have questioned her. 

She drops her hands from her face before inhaling a deep breath, visibly attempting to wrangle her emotions under control.  “Please, just be there tonight.  We need you.” 

I nod and bite my lower lip.  It feels like there’s more going on than she’s willing to admit.  But then again, that’s the way everything around here feels.  We’re all keeping secrets from each other.  If given half a chance, this place will destroy the tightly woven fabric of our family.  I don’t want that to happen. 

I clear my throat and push out the question.  “What time should I be ready?” 

This party will be an ugly wake up call for them, but there’s nothing that can be done about it now.  The only thing I can do is stand in solidarity next to them with my head held high. 

Her shoulders slump as her face clears.  “People will start arriving at seven o’clock.” 

I glance at my sports watch.  That’s three hours from now. 

“The caterers should be here any moment.  The plan is for them to set up a bar in the dining room.” 

Excellent idea.  Mom and Dad need to ply these people with as much liquor as possible. 

“Do you need help with anything?”  I glance around the foyer and living room.  Wood has been polished to a high shine and glass sparkles in the sunlight that filters in through the windows.  It’s obvious that Mom has spent a lot of time scrubbing the house from top to bottom. 

“No, I’m almost done.”  As she meets my gaze, a strained smile lifts her lips.  There are tiny lines of tension bracketing her eyes that never used to be there.  “Thanks for asking.”   Her gaze searches mine before she expels a tense breath.  “You’re a good girl, Summer.  You’ve tried to make the best of this situation and we appreciate that.” 

“Thanks, Mom.”  Even though there are plenty of negatives about this place, there have also been a few positives.  That’s what I try to focus on.  The house and pool are amazing.  I love our G-wagon.  And the night sky... 

Almost every evening I stare up at the brightly shining pinpricks of light, trying to find my Zen.  Running and the stars.  The only two things that make me forget how much I hate it here.  Strangely enough, school has become tolerable.  From an educational standpoint, it’s rigorous and will look good on my transcript.       

“I just wish...”  Mom’s soft voice trails off as she pins her lower lip with her teeth and glances away. 

A strange feeling of foreboding fills me. 

“What?”  My throat tightens as if Kingsley’s fingers are wrapped around it, slowly constricting my airways. 

“I wish this company had never been founded,” she blurts. 

The honesty of her words and the threads of resentment woven through them take me by surprise.  Sure, that’s how I feel, but I wasn’t expecting her to voice the same sentiment. 

“Then we’d be back in Chicago,” she finishes almost wistfully. 

“Yeah.”  I don’t understand where all this is coming from.  From everything I’ve seen, Mom has been happy here.  So this sudden about face doesn’t make sense.  “That would be nice.” 

For me, it’s been a different story.  I wish more than anything we could go back to our old life.  We’ve been here less than a month and it feels like forever.  I search my brain, trying to dredge up memories of Chicago.  It’s disconcerting to realize that some have already blurred around the edges.  They aren’t as crisp and clear as they should be. 

“Go upstairs and get ready, sweetie,” Mom says. 

As I turn toward the staircase, her voice halts me in my tracks.  “Do me a favor and wear the sleeveless blue halter dress we bought last summer.” Her eyes soften as her lips curve.  “You look so pretty in it.” 

I pause on the first tread as my face scrunches.  I don’t give a damn about impressing these stupid people.  They’re lucky I’m bothering to show my face at this shindig. 

“I’d rather wear the short pink one,” I say carelessly. 

She shakes her head.  “No, that one is too—” 

“Too what?” I ask, brows rising in surprise. 

Her shoulders straighten.  Any tenderness that had been filling her eyes disappears.  “It’s not appropriate for this gathering.  Wear the blue one.  You look so sweet and innocent in it.” 

Sweet and innocent? 

What the hell is that about? 

Unsure how to respond, I sputter out a disbelieving laugh.  “Come on, Mom, you can’t be serious.” 

“Actually,” she snaps, “I am.  Please, don’t argue.  Just wear the dress.” 

My eyes widen in shock.  The request is so strange and uncharacteristic that I’m not sure what to make of it. 

She’s stressed.  That’s all this is.  Tomorrow the party will be over and we can move on with our lives.  Sort of. 

“Summer,” her sharp voice cuts into my thoughts, “did you hear me?” 

“Yeah,” I grumble, “I’ll wear the stupid dress.”  I stomp up the staircase to the second floor, mumbling under my breath the entire way before slamming into my room.  Any good vibes flowing through my veins from the run are long gone. 

With hasty movements, I jerk off the athletic top and mesh shorts before stalking to the bathroom and running the tub.  To get through this, I’m going to need a long hot bath. 

To drown myself in. 

I snort at the thought. 

The bizarro conversation with Mom continues to play through my head.  There’s more going on than what my parents are willing to acknowledge.  Maybe after this is over, I’ll have to snoop around in the study and see what I can uncover. 

Once the tub is filled, I strip off my panties and sports bra before sliding into the water.  Warmth surrounds me as I rest my head against the smooth porcelain and allow my eyelids to feather closed.  Tension seeps from my body as if the water has the ability to leech it away. 

My mind wanders, and I end up dozing off.  When my eyelashes flutter open again, I’m startled to find Kingsley sitting on the edge of the tub staring at me.  I blink, needing to make sure he’s not a figment of my imagination.  When the vision doesn’t shimmer into nothingness, I jerk to a sitting position and draw my knees to my chest before banding my arms around my legs. 

“What are you doing here?”  As far as I’m concerned, we have nothing further to discuss.  I’ve done my best to push him to the far recesses of my brain and pretend he doesn’t exist. 

Has it been working? 

Not one bit.  But what other choice is there? 

One side of his mouth hitches into a lazy smile as his gaze drops to my naked body.  “You realize that’s unnecessary.  I’ve already seen the goods.”  

 True. 

“But that doesn’t mean you’re going to continue to see them,” I snap, exasperated to find him invading my space with the same persistence he invades my brain. 

The arrogance dissolves from his expression as his eyes soften.  “Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 

Ha!

“Then why are you here?”  It takes effort to keep the waver from my voice. 

Glancing away, he trails the tips of his fingers through the now lukewarm water.  “We need to talk.” 

I force out a laugh.  “In that case, you can leave as quietly as you snuck in because we have nothing further to say to one another.” 

Ignoring me, he asks, “Did you mean what you said about liking me when we met at the beach?”  Uncertainty flickers in his mahogany-colored eyes as he lifts them to mine. 

The conversation from the Dairy Barn crashes through my head. 

“Yes,” I reluctantly admit before continuing, “But that’s not the real Kingsley Rothchild, is it?”  That knowledge is like a painful vise around my chest, making it impossible to breathe.  All this time, I’ve been holding out hope that the boy from the beach would gradually reveal himself.  That has yet to happen and I’ve finally come to a place of acceptance that it never will.   

He presses his lips together as my heart thuds.  “What if I could be?  What if it was possible for us to start over again?” 

I can’t resist flinging his own words back in his face.  It’s so much easier than allowing them to burrow under my skin, giving me nothing more than false hope.  “But that’s not possible, is it?  There is too much family history standing between us.” 

“What if I was wrong?”  A stripped-down vulnerability I’ve never glimpsed before lurks in the back of his eyes.  “About everything.” 

Why is he doing this? 

Why won’t he allow me to walk away? 

“I don’t understand.”  Where is this coming from?  More than anything, I hate that he has the ability to draw me back in again. 

“If I were the guy you first met,” he slides along the edge of the tub, “could you fall in love with me?” 

My mouth tumbles open as his words send my belly into free fall.  How am I supposed to answer that? 

“Summer?” 

Without considering the consequences, I jerk my head into a nod. 

He continues to scoot toward me before dropping to his knees on the other side of the porcelain.  Both of his hands slide through my wet hair, holding my head in place before carefully searching my eyes.  He tips my face until his warm breath can drift over my lips.  My chest expands for the first time in more than a week as I breathe him in. 

What is it about him that feels so right? 

“Are you sure?”  His expression turns serious.  As if whatever I say next will somehow seal my fate. 

When I open my mouth, he cuts me off.  “Don’t give me an answer yet.  You need to think about it.”  His tongue darts out to stroke over my lips and I groan at the contact as my muscles lose their rigidity. 

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed touching you?” he growls.  “It’s been fucking torture.” 

As much as I’ve tried to pretend otherwise, I feel the same way.  Logically, it doesn’t make sense.  I’ve stopped trying to rationalize it in my head.  For whatever reason, his touch feels more natural than anything else in my life. 

“Give me your tongue,” he demands. 

It doesn’t occur to me to hold back.  As soon as my tongue peeks through my lips, he licks it with the velvety softness of his own before drawing it deep into his mouth.  Arousal shoots through my core, throbbing to life with a swiftness that almost takes my breath away. 

His fingers splay wide as he holds me in place, sucking on me the entire time.  Everything he does is so erotic.  Even something as simple as this.  When he releases me, it's as if I’ve been drugged.  No longer am I able to think, all I want are his hands roaming over my body, branding me in a way he has yet to do. 

“Think carefully about what I’ve said.”  He presses another kiss against my lips.  “I need an answer by the end of the evening.” 

With a groan, his mouth aligns with mine one last time before he rises to his feet.  I don’t realize that my body has unfurled from its huddled state until his gaze skims over my naked form and he plows a hand roughly through his hair.  Heat ignites in his eyes as they become dark liquid pools that have the power to singe me alive. 

“Tonight,” he repeats harshly. 

I bite my lip as the sexual haze clouding my brain clears.  As he crosses over the threshold into my bedroom, I blurt, “Kingsley?” 

He swings around.  “Yeah?” 

“Tell me this isn’t a game.”  I watch for any telltale signs that he’s lying to me.  A shuttering of his eyes.  A blanking of his expression. 

Instead, regret flashes across his face as he stalks into the bathroom, swallowing up the distance between us in four long strides.  When he reaches the tub, he falls to his knees and his hands snake out to cup my cheeks.  “This isn’t a game.  What’s happening between us is all too real.” 

“Do you swear it?”  I search his eyes, attempting to sift through every nuance that flickers in them. 

“On my life.” 

My teeth sink into my lower lip before chewing it.  “Okay.”  So badly do I want to believe he’s telling me the truth, but the sad reality is that he’s never given me one reason to trust him.    

His tongue sweeps over my lower lip and when I release it from being pinned in place, he draws it into his mouth before relinquishing it.  “You’ll have an answer for me tonight?” 

I nod as he rises to his feet.  If pressed hard enough, I would give him the answer he’s looking for right now.  But he doesn’t, so I keep my lips tightly pressed together.  For whatever reason, it feels as though I should give as much consideration to his question as he has instructed me to. 

“Then I’ll see you tonight.”  With that, he disappears from the bathroom.  When I hear the screen door slam shut in my bedroom, I know he’s gone.  My head falls back against the tub as I stare sightlessly at the ceiling. 

As confused as I am, there are truths that can not be denied.  The way I feel about him is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  And something tells me that I never will again.  

But is it real? 

Or another mindfuck?