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Hunched over a bowl of homemade mac and cheese, compliments of their cook, Beau sat at the copper breakfast bar in his parents’ kitchen, watching a zombie movie on his laptop. The only light in the room came from above the gourmet stove his mother never touched.
He couldn’t remember a time when his mother had ever cooked or cleaned. He’d even had a nanny until his father insisted Elizabeth Devereaux take an interest in her son.
Family dinners were something he’d seen on TV shows but never experienced. He’d gotten a taste of it at Dawn’s house when he’d eaten dinner with the Moores, but after his incident with Leslie earlier in the week, he wanted to give her some space.
He preferred to break her slowly, tearing her apart a bit at a time. Rushing her to the end he had in mind would only take away from the pleasure of the experience.
A soft overhead light above the kitchen island came on, the copper pots hanging from the rack above twinkled.
“What are you watching?”
Elizabeth glided into the light from the outer hallway, wearing her favorite yellow robe. Her drinking robe, as Beau called it.
Noticing the black coffee mug in her hand, he guessed she’d run out of ice to go with her whiskey.
“A zombie movie.” He went back to his mac and cheese, not bothering to turn down the volume.
Her slippers shuffling across the floor were like fingernails on a chalkboard. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when she hadn’t dragged herself around the house like one of the zombies in his movie.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye. After getting ice, Elizabeth walked back to the counter and stood staring down at him.
He tried to ignore her, but her damned gray eyes were like crab claws when they dug in.
“What?” He paused the movie.
Her expression was flat—not a hint of happiness, sadness, remorse or concern lifted the muscles in her face. She’d been that way for the past two years.
His mother used to smile. He remembered how her full red lips would ease back, highlighting her dimples and carved high cheekbones. When she smiled, her eyes reminded him of the light at dawn spanning the night sky.
“Is that all you’re eating for dinner?” A tapered finger tapped on the counter close to his bowl.
“What else would you recommend?” He grinned, feeling cocky. “The brisket you cooked?”
No reaction. Nothing. The same dull stare she gave him night and day. He didn’t know if she was rubbing off on him, but lately, a certain emptiness had permeated his ability to give a shit about anything his mother said or did.
“Leah also made roast chicken. And there’s steak with baked potatoes in the fridge. Your father grilled tonight before he went back out.”
Her deadpan delivery irked him more than missing out on the steak.
“Who’s he with tonight?”
A hint of life shone in her eyes. She pulled the lapels of her robe closed.
“What are you talking about?”
Suddenly, beating his mother up over his father’s screwing around didn’t appeal to him. He had a new interest, one who would be a hell of a lot more satisfying.
“Forget it.” He stood and took his bowl to the sink.
Elizabeth stepped toward him and swept the hair from his brow.
Beau jerked back. “Don’t touch me.”
His growl came out more menacing than he’d intended, but he was glad. It would keep her away from him.
The eyes frantically searching his face were not the lifeless ones he’d grown used to. Fear dilated her pupils, almost covering the gray.
“What’s wrong with you? Every time I think I know you, you turn into a stranger.”
Beau leaned against the kitchen counter, a smugness surging through him. “That’s good.” He pushed away, and his mother took a cautious step back, which pleased him. “Because if you don’t know me, then no one else ever will.”
“What is that supposed to mean, Beau?”
The fake motherly concern in her voice pissed him off.
“You know what it means.” He went back around the counter to his computer. “Isn’t that what you and Dad want? Don’t let anyone know who I really am.” He picked up the computer and, needing to destroy something, threw it against the far wall.
His laptop exploded into shards, plastic clinking against the floor until silence blanketed the kitchen once more.
Beau closed his eyes, avoiding his mother’s terror-stricken gaze, furious with himself. He’d lost control. He had one ironclad rule, and he’d broken it.
“Beau, baby, perhaps we should talk to your father about—”
He willed his sense of discipline back into place, fighting the urge for more destruction.
“No. I won’t talk to him.” He could not look at her and stepped away to the pantry.
Her shuffling slippers followed him. “You need to talk to someone.”
Mindful of his still-seething rage, he gently opened the pantry door and got the broom.
“Take your ice and go back to bed, Mom.” Clutching the broom, still not able to face her, he went around the counter to what was left of his computer. “I’ll clean up my own mess.”
* * *
Leslie poured soap into the sink, preparing for dish duty. Her mother had demanded she hand-wash every dish as penance for coming home late, covered in mud and dust. Her parents were already in bed—both early risers, unlike their night owl kids. Leslie enjoyed having the kitchen to herself. She could eat leftovers in peace without the usual Shelley interrogation.
The abandoned abbey bothered her more than ever. The room in the cells gave her a weird vibe. Something wasn’t right about the place. She could see why Beau was so fond of The Abbey—it reminded her of him. An empty shell with a hell of a lot of secrets.
When is everyone going to see what I see in the guy?
Leslie cursed while cleaning one of the pots from dinner, ready to pitch it across the room.
Dawn came sauntering through the garage door, nearly scaring her to death.
She dumped her book bag on the kitchen countertop. “You haven’t done the dishes yet? Mom will be so pissed.”
“She’ll be even more pissed you put your books up there.”
Dawn’s ponytail, secured with her signature red ribbon, swung over her shoulder as she moved her bag to the floor. She tucked part of her shirt into her jeans as she stood, rubbing her red lips together, smearing her freshly applied gloss.
Leslie shook her head. Didn’t take a genius to figure out what her sister and Beau had been doing.
“Why do you have that stuff on your lips?”
She popped her lips together. “Because it turns Beau on. He says he doesn’t like it, but I can tell he does. Especially red lipstick. It drives him mad.”
Leslie made a mental note never to wear makeup again. “So where did you go with Beau?”
Dawn twirled her hair around her finger. “Carl’s for pizza, and then we went to the river.”
“The river?” Soap dripped from her hands. “Who with?”
Dawn giggled when a glob of suds landed on the floor.
Leslie hated when her sister laughed like a little girl, which sounded fake and was something she did for attention. It seemed like forever since she’d heard anything genuine come from her sister—another side effect from hanging out with Beau.
“What makes you think we were with anyone?” Dawn yanked a paper towel from the dispenser next to the sink.
“You two went alone?” Leslie returned to the dishes. “You need to be careful out there. A pack of wild dogs took down a deer at the river. They could go after a person.”
Dawn scrunched up her face, every inch Shelley Moore’s daughter. “I already know about the dogs, and so does Beau. He brought his daddy’s shotgun with us tonight. We hung out on the beach and made love under the stars.”
Leslie ignored her sister’s dreamy expression. “I don’t know which image is scarier: you screwing Beau on the beach or him with a shotgun.”
Dawn wiped up the floor and pitched the paper towel into the garbage. “Why don’t you like him? You know he’s tried to reach out to you plenty of times to be friends, but you just blow him off.”
Leslie set a dish aside, struggling with what to say to her sister.
“Maybe I don’t like how he talks to me. Makes me wonder what you see in the guy.”
“What I see in him?” This time, Dawn’s laugh was genuine. A roaring chuckle, reminding Leslie very much of her own. “My God, Leelee, are you blind? Beau is rich, great-looking. His family owns the whole damned town. He’s a great athlete with a banging body, treats me like a queen, and to top it off, he’s great in bed. What else could I want in a guy?”
“Did you ever speak to Beau about waiting to have sex?” One of Leslie’s soapy hands came out of the sink and rested on her hip. “You slept with him that first night at the river. Before Beau came along, you always talked about waiting until you were sure about a guy—like me.”
Apprehension flickered in Dawn’s eyes. Leslie had seen her look that way a million times before whenever she tried to lie her way out of a bad situation.
“Beau did want to wait,” she finally got out. “I was the one who wanted to do it. I wanted him more than any guy I’d ever known. Maybe I didn’t go about it the right way, but it all worked out. I’ve got Beau.”
Leslie went back to her dishes. “Every time you talk about him, you go on and on about his family, his money, and all his skills, but never once do I hear you say you love him.”
“I do love him.”
Leslie raised an eyebrow. “But does he love you?”
Dawn’s pert smile slipped and anger brimmed in her eyes. “Beau was right. All you want to do is break us up.”
Leslie set the last of the dishes to the side to dry. “Did he tell you that?”
“He told me I can’t trust anything you say about him.” Dawn picked up her book bag and marched out of the kitchen.
She was almost through the den when Leslie stopped her. “Has Beau picked out his college yet?”
Dawn halted in the den. “Yeah, Tulane.”
Leslie went around the breakfast counter, eager to make her sister see some sense. “Has he asked you to apply there?”
Dawn played with the strap of her bag. “No matter what you say, you’re not going to talk me out of seeing Beau. I trust him more than anyone I’ve ever known, including you. He loves me and wants to make me happy. What do you want to make me?”
“I’m just trying to keep you safe, Dawn Marie—like I’ve always done.” Leslie softened her voice, hoping it would get through to her sister. “Remember when we were little, and you used to have those bad nightmares about fire, and I said I would always protect you from the flames?”
Dawn glared at her. “We were six, Leelee. I stopped having nightmares a long time ago.”
“But I’ve never stopped protecting you. That’s what I’m doing now.”
She tossed the bag over her shoulder. “I don’t need your protection. I’m all grown up and can make my own decisions.”
“Just watch your back with him. That’s all I ask.”
Dawn shook her head and turned away, heading to the stairs.
Leslie sagged against the counter, wishing she could make her sister understand about Beau. Time would prove her suspicions right, and when Dawn learned the truth about her boyfriend’s troublesome behavior, Leslie vowed to be there to pick up the pieces.
