Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
I give her a look that means we’ll talk about this privately while getting up from the table and leaving the dish next to the sink. “Do you want anything?” Sheryl asks Bianca, who politely declines before I pull her by the arm outside onto the back patio. It’s already hot and sticky for this time of the day, and I can practically feel my curls frizzing thanks to the humidity.
“What’s going on?” Bianca’s carrying a backpack over one shoulder and a beach towel in the other arm, both of which she sets down while I pace the ground in front of her.
I’m not mad. I’m… bothered, actually annoyed.
“First of all, that boy is moving into the empty wing,” I whisper before grinding my teeth. “I don’t even know him, but somehow he’s so important my father gives him the bedroom that he promised me.”
“Ugh, that’s crappy.” She sits down, shaking her head. “I know you were looking forward to moving all your stuff into that room.”
“I was. And it’s just … I don’t know. The guy showed up five minutes ago, yet it already feels like I don’t exist anymore.” I have to laugh at myself. “Not like I did before this morning, but still, it’s less now.”
“That’s not true. Your dad was just as happy as any other dad at graduation, and he took us out to dinner and everything.” She makes a sour face. “Sorry, my dad was so weird about trying to pay.”
I wave it off because men are generally weird, and I was surprised he even wanted to go to dinner with us in the first place. I’ve always gotten the vibe he doesn’t like my dad, though he’s always been nice to me. “It’s okay, men are weird, but that’s the thing. Last night, Dad cared about me. He actually paid attention to me. This morning? It’s all about Romero. No explanation. No anything. Just like, hey, here’s this guy who will live with us now. Have a nice day by the pool.”
Bianca shrugs. “It could be worse. The guy could be gross and ugly looking.”
She’s not wrong about that. Even though he’s kind of a jerk, I already can’t wait to see him again. “He’s older than us—maybe sixteen or seventeen. I don’t know, Dad didn’t tell me, of course. So for the whole five minutes I met him he stared at the floor like he was pissed off. I doubt he’d talk to me anyway, that’s if I even wanted to talk to him.”
“Besides,” she adds with a giggle, “it’s not like your dad would let you hang out with an older guy.”
“Ugh, also true.” To think, I was in such a good mood when I first woke up. “Happy first day of summer vacation, I guess.”
“It’s all going to be okay. Don’t let this get you down.” She hops up from her chair and removes the sundress she wore over her white suit. “Come on, let’s enjoy the pool and try not to think about them. We’ll play some music and relax.”
She’s right. I know she is. I don’t have to pay any attention to Romero. He can be another one of my father’s guards or whatever it is he pays them to do to keep us safe. I’m not supposed to know about any of that.
I do know one thing, though: The first chance I get, I’m buying myself a two-piece suit. If Dad’s going to ignore me for this guy, whoever he is, I’m going to start doing what I want.
CHAPTER 2
TATUM
Ten Years Later
If I didn’t know better, I would think Bianca was trying to break my ribs with how tightly she wrapped her arms around me in the courtyard in front of the house the morning after she married my father. Yes, it’s complicated, and I don’t want to discuss it. She’s my stepmother now, and I still can’t get over it.
“Please, be safe,” she whispers before giving me one last squeeze. “And keep me posted, okay? I’m going to go crazy not knowing where you are or what you’re doing.”
“I will. Who else am I going to talk to?”
We both glance at Romero, who’s having a last-minute talk with Dad. Their voices are hushed whispers. The two of them might as well be planning D-Day or something. I know it’s not easy for my father to let me go, even if he knows it’s for the best. I need space, time, and freedom.
Part of me knows I’m lucky he’s letting me go and not locking me up somewhere. I wouldn’t put it past him to do that, and it’s not like he hasn’t threatened it. We both know that a mental hospital wouldn’t help me any more than living in that big ass house did. Thus, the choice to leave arose. Only, of course, he wouldn’t be my father if he made things easy for me. There was one stipulation: I can’t go alone without a guardian always watching over me. Why would I ever want to take a breath without somebody hovering over my shoulder?