"Why didn't you tell me she was going to be staying with us for two weeks?" I didn't bother to keep my composure as I spoke to my father on the phone. All four walls of his study were lined top to bottom with ancient, leather-bound books, and a lavish Persian rug swept across the floor—so I wasn't too concerned about my voice bouncing through the walls and reaching my mother in the living room as I said, "I was completely blindsided!"
"I'm sorry, Princess," he said. "It's just that I knew if I told you she was coming you would react—well, like this. Besides, she sounded really apologetic when she called. She misses you and wants to make things right. You're her daughter. I couldn't refuse her that."
I shook my head, pacing the length of the room as I willed my heart to calm down. But it wouldn't. The thought of that vile woman being under the same roof as me for two entire weeks . . . I blindly reached for one of the books on the shelves beside me and chucked it across the room, the spine hitting the far wall with a quiet thud before it fell to the ground in a random sprawl of pages.
It didn't make me feel any better.
"I just don't think it's fair," I said. "You're only letting her stay here because you don't have to see her as much. While you're off at work, I'm stuck dealing with that witch."
"Adalyra Rose Sullivan." My father's voice was stern. "She might live somewhere else now, but she is still your mother."
I scoffed. "That woman stopped being my mother the day she abandoned us."
A moment of silence passed before my father spoke again. When he did, his voice was resigned—tired. "I'll work on getting one of my colleagues to come out here and finish up these contracts for me, and I'll try to be home by tomorrow morning. Just hold out for me for the night, will you, honey?" He sounded desperate enough that I calmed down, just a breath. I knew that if my father was willing to find someone to take his place in the middle of one of his big contracts, then he must have felt as horrible about this as he sounded.
No matter how much he already had on his plate, somehow, he always found a way to make mine easier to carry.
Which was why I closed my eyes and took a deep, deep breath before I said, "You don't have to do that."
"But—"
"No, Dad. Stay. You can't come running home every time I need you. I'll deal with her until you get back. You'll be done by Saturday anyway, right?"
"Yes, I should be back by the evening." He paused. "Are you sure about this?"
I clenched my teeth but said, "Yes. I'm sure."
He sighed, no doubt in relief. I would have too if it meant being away from my mother for a few extra days.
"You know I love you, don't you?"
"Yeah, yeah." I exhaled. "I love you, too."
"It'll only be a few more days. I'll be home soon," he said. "And Lyra?"
"Yes?"
"Will you pick up that book you threw? I happen to enjoy Hemingway's writing."
I only heard the beginning of his chuckle before the line clicked shut. I glared at one of the cameras in the corner of my father's study before walking over to where I'd thrown his copy of The Old Man and the Sea. How he knew which book it was, I didn't want to know.
I bent down to pick it up, pausing as one of the lines jumped out at me from the open pages:
"Fish," he said, "I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends."
And as I placed the book back on its rightful shelf, I wondered which one of us—me or my mother—would have been the fish.
***
"Looks like you get to stay. I would tell you to make yourself at home but . . . " I walked towards our maid and placed a hand on the sweet, old woman's shoulder before I turned back to face my mother. "Elise will show you to your room. Marco's her husband and our house chef. He can pretty much cook anything you can think of, so if you need him." I pointed towards the hall that led to the kitchen.
My mother gave Elise a dismissive once-over that made me want to gouge her eyes out. "No uniform for your staff?"
"Is there a problem with that?" I looked towards the maid, who always wore her silver-white hair in a neat bun, a long-sleeve sweater paired with loose-fitting pants, unable to see what the problem was.
My mother scrunched her nose. "You shouldn't give the staff the wrong idea about getting too comfortable. I'll have to talk to your father about that."
Blood rushed to my ears. "Don't talk about Elise like she's not standing—"
"Mr. Sullivan," Elise cut in, her smile as polite and warm as ever, "understands that for people of my age, it is comfort that is more important than fashion, especially for productivity." She reached for my mother's bags without glancing at her again. "I will bring these up to your room, Miss Archer."
The maid smiled at me as she passed, letting me read the words she'd written clear as day in her eyes. Don't worry about me. I can handle her.
I nodded, knowing she very well could.
And then I grabbed my coat and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" My mother frowned.
"Out."
I'd texted Dez back earlier, agreeing to meet him at a park near our school to talk about how we could possibly get Hannah and Lewis to talk. I welcomed the distraction just as much as I was glad for the excuse to get far, far away from my mother—who was now crossing her arms and looking at me like I'd lost my mind.
"On a school night?"
"I'm not going to a club," I said dryly. "Not that it's your business anymore, but I'm hanging out with a friend."
She tilted her chin up, looking down at me through her nose in a way that I knew was supposed to make me feel small. She crossed her arms. "I wanted to talk to you."
"You've had two years to talk to me." I shrugged as I opened the front door and stepped out. "Don't expect me to drop everything just because you suddenly decided to come back from the dead."
***
Ethan dropped me off just a little ways down the street from the park. I walked the three minutes of the rest of the way alone, reminding myself that I didn't have to live like this forever, always trailed by a bodyguard, unable to drive my own car—constantly avoiding anyone discovering why I didn't. I told myself this was only temporary, just until the feds found him.
For the past year, I hadn't dared say his name out loud. I didn't even think it—for fear that it would be like some universal calling to him. That it would somehow conjure him up and lead him straight to me.
I'll find you.
A shiver coiled down my spine, like a snake wrapping itself around its victim before it finally squeezed. But I tossed his last, chilling words out of my mind as I approached the wooden bench where a boy with dark chestnut hair sat, waiting for me. And as those steady amber eyes met mine, for a moment, it felt as if someone had pried the snake clean off my back.
That was, until he stepped closer—and that too-beautiful face fell as I came into view. "What's wrong?"
How Dez was able to read me so easily, even after only knowing me for a few weeks . . . a different kind of shiver rolled through me.
"Have you been waiting here long?" I asked. He only frowned as I ignored his question, so I sighed, plopping myself down on the bench beside him. "I don't want to talk about it."
For a moment, he just stayed silent. I'd expected him to push it again, but instead he stood and extended a hand towards me. "Up."
I raised my brows and Dez cocked his head towards the trail that circled around the entire park. "We're going for a walk."
When I still didn't get up, he said, "I happen to like walks, Peacock. Plus I've been sitting on that bench for so long, I can't feel my ass anymore."
I snorted, feeling a bit bad for making him wait—and I took his hand.
The contact was brief and he let go as soon as I stood, but I couldn't ignore the pleasant sparks that shot up my arm as his fingers met mine—the same ones I'd felt the night of the bonfire when he held my arm. When I looked up, Dez was staring at his hand. I didn't have the chance to read whatever emotion it was in his eyes before his gaze found mine, and he cleared his throat and turned, leading us through the park.
"So I was thinking," he said, "Lewis and Hannah aren't speaking to each other because they're both afraid of each other, right?"
"Right . . . " As I trailed behind Dez, I tried not to stare at the strong shoulders, the powerful arms that even his varsity jacket couldn't hide. But my gaze slid down his back anyway, and then lower, to the allegedly numb area beneath—
"It's an easy fix." He grinned at me over his shoulder. My eyes snapped up to his, my heart hammering. Please tell me he did not just see me checking out his ass.
Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice as he said, "You text Hannah and tell her to meet you somewhere, and I'll text Lewis saying the same. But when neither of us show up, they'll both be forced to talk to one another. Then voila! All will be right with the world."
"Hold on." I stopped where I stood and crossed my arms. "That was your big plan? You could have just told me, and I could have texted her from my house."
Dez paused too, turning around to grin at me. "I know."
"Then why—"
"I wanted to hang out." He shrugged, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. "Make sure you didn't change your mind after last night and suddenly hate me again."
I blinked, not realizing until now how important that had been to him. Either he really cared about his reputation or his conscience just weighed on him so heavily that he'd gone through all this trouble to make sure he was really forgiven. My money was on the latter, but the truth was, I was glad we were here. Otherwise I'd have been stuck at home, making fake conversation with my equally fake mother. Right now, there was no place I'd have rather been.
But I didn't tell Dez any of that as all I said was, "I told you I never hated you."
He smiled faintly, seeming satisfied with the answer, his gaze rising to the path ahead of us as we began to move again.
"So," I said as we walked. "Where should we tell them to 'meet' us?"
"Somewhere neutral, definitely. Since Hannah doesn't go to our school, it has to be somewhere neither of them are too familiar with."
I nodded, thinking it over. "What about Veranda Grove?" I said, subtly referring to the neighborhood where I lived.
"That snooty, suburban town north of us?" Dez scoffed. "That place is for billionaires."
"It's only a twenty minute drive from here." I rolled my eyes. "There's an ice cream shop my dad and I go to all the time. They've got the best soft-serve cones. Totally worth the drive."
Dez mulled it over, but realization appeared to strike as he frowned and said, "I almost forgot—Lewis's cousin lives over there. He knows the area too well."
"Really?"
"Yeah. They're not super close since his cousin is older, but he stays there once in a while."
"Got it." I hummed, thinking instead of other places they could go. After going through our options, Dez and I eventually agreed on telling them to "meet" us at a local, indie coffee shop in another neighboring town. Public—but small and far away enough that they'd have no other option but to speak to each other.
"Let's hope this works," Dez said after we both sent out the texts. Hannah and Lewis responded simultaneously, agreeing to meet us there in half an hour.
"You really care about him, don't you?" I said.
"We grew up together." A flicker of pride glinted in his eyes as he spoke of his best friend. "I'd do anything for him."
I didn't doubt he would.
And as I looked at Dez, I wondered how I'd ever mistaken him for anything other than thoughtful and kind. Maybe it was a part of the reason why people flocked to him the way they did. Not just because he was popular or a star-athlete, but because being around him was . . . nice.
Really nice.
I must have been silent for too long as he glanced at me sideways and said, "What?"
"Nothing. That's just—very sweet of you," I said honestly.
"Tell that to my sister." He laughed. "She thinks I'm as vicious as they come."
"Sister? You have a sister?"
"And a brother."
"Do I know them?"
"Nah. My brother graduated two years ago. He goes to school in Florida now, so he's not around much. But if you think I'm bad, pray to god you never meet him. He's even more arrogant than I am." He added with a smirk, "But only half as good looking, of course."
I snorted. "What about your sister? Is she as modest as her siblings?"
"She's actually my step-sister. Dad remarried and sis kept her mom's last name, so it's not Warren. But she goes to our school. Cassidy Pike." He paused. "You've probably never seen or heard of her. She's a freshman and mostly keeps to herself, like your friend with the glasses."
I tried not to sigh as I thought of Olivia and the conversation we had last night.
"She doesn't like me very much, does she?" Dez said.
"Who? Olivia?"
"Is that her name? The blonde one who's always got her face hidden behind a book?"
"Yep, that would be Liv." I chuckled. "But what makes you think she doesn't like you?"
"Well, that day at Lupe's Cocina . . . she was sort of glaring at me the whole time you guys were there."
I plastered on a smirk that I didn't feel. "You had to have been looking at her the whole time to know that she was glaring at you. Interested?"
"I wasn't looking at her. I was looking at you." He shrugged, keeping his gaze ahead of us as he said, "She just happened to be there."
My stomach did a small flip, but Dez added before I could respond, "Does she hate me?"
I pursed my lips. "Olivia has a different perspective on things. That's all."
"I'll take that as a yes. You did explain to her that I only teased you with your best interest at heart, didn't you?"
"I did."
"And she still hates me?"
I didn't want to tell him that it was also because of what he'd done to Jeremy that she did. So I told him the other truth, "She thinks you only went through the trouble of helping me because you wanted to . . . because you want to . . . " I struggled to get the words out.
Dez turned, and when his eyes found the blush on my cheeks, he swallowed. "Oh."
I looked away from him and mumbled, "Yeah."
After a long moment, I heard him sigh. And then he said, "That's my own fault. If it weren't for my stupid reputation—"
Dez stopped walking and turned to face me. His eyes were wide, almost panicked. "But I want you know that's not what this is about, Peacock. That's not why I . . . I would never try to . . . I mean, it's not that I don't—"
I reached for his arm and said, "I know, Dez. It's okay. I explained to her that we're just friends."
"You did?"
I nodded.
He knitted together his brows. "Friends . . . " he tested the word slowly, a slight tug pulling down the corners of his lips as if he could taste it. And didn't like the way it tasted.
I felt my gut sink as I realized why. "Sorry, I didn't mean to assume. I know I was awful to you. I just said it to give her some peace of mind. I wouldn't expect you to want to be my friend after all of that, but—"
"No."
I looked up, surprised his expression had changed.
"I'd be . . . honored to be your friend, Lyra," he said softly, those molten eyes swimming with an emotion I couldn't even begin to understand. "And if it means earning Olivia's trust—and earning yours—then I'll be the best god-damned friend you ever had."
I wasn't sure I had the right words to describe the swell of emotions I felt at that moment, but apparently curiosity was among them as I blurted, "Why?"
"I already told you. What you did for that girl last semester stuck with me. It's not everyday you meet people like you."
"But why now? Why this semester and not last?"
His golden eyes glittered as he smiled at me. "Between you and me, it was only a matter of time."
I didn't get the chance to ask what that meant as another voice caused both of us to stop in our tracks.
"Dez, babe!"
Dez stiffened, and in the distance, the gorgeous brunette that I recognized from Lupe's Cocina with him the other week approached, a leash in hand as she walked her small dog through the park.
She flipped her silky brown hair over one shoulder before she said, or rather whined, "Why didn't you call me last night?"
Dez let out an exasperated sigh. "I'll be right back, Peacock." He glanced at me apologetically, meeting her before she could get any closer. I stayed put, but even from the small distance, I could still see the girl's overdramatic pout.
"I thought you were supposed to help me with my," she lowered her voice and said not-so-subtly, "Calculus."
Oh, Jesus.
Even from behind them, I saw Dez grimace. His voice was flat. "I told you I'm no good at math, Serena."
Lie. I knew that because the amount of math we had to do in Chemistry was ridiculous, and Dez had always handled it with perfect, confident ease. But the girl—Serena—ignored his tone as she smiled and threw her free hand around Dez's arm, lazily dragging her perfectly manicured nails around his sleeve.
I didn't know why, but I had the sudden urge to go over there to chop her hand clean off.
Dez took a subtle step away from her grip, causing me to fall directly into her line of sight. Her eyes met mine, and that pretty smile immediately vanished from her face.
Dez followed her gaze to me, his shoulders relaxing as if he'd expected me to disappear and was relieved I was still standing there.
"Who's this?" She crossed her arms, her dog whimpering as she pulled at the leash a little too tightly.
Dez motioned for me to join them. "Serena, this is Lyra," he said as I approached. "Lyra—" He grumbled, "Serena."
I offered her a small smile. "Hi, Serena."
Her eyes raked over me with distaste. "You're the new girl, aren't you?"
"Sort of. I transferred in last semester."
"Uh-huh." Her now icy gaze lingered between the two of us, before snapping back to Dez. "I see you're busy here. I'll see you at school Dez."
She turned away before adding smoothly, "And by the way—the offer still stands."
I bit down the sudden urge to gag.
Serena's gaze fell to me once more before she finally turned and walked off in the other direction, dragging her poor dog along behind her. As soon as she was out of hearing range, I said, "Am I allowed to be mean yet, or is it too soon?"
I turned to Dez without waiting for his response. "That was thoroughly disgusting."
"No, Peacock." He looked in the direction Serena had disappeared off to before gaping at me, a bright smile splitting his cheeks. "That was amazing."
I raised a brow. "What?"
"I mean, I'm used to girls acting like that, but no one has ever just—walked away. Even when there are other girls around." He shook his head. "I'm a chick magnet, but you're like . . . a chick repellant."
My lip curled back. "You did not just refer to yourself as a chick-magnet."
Dez laughed. And I swore I could see the wheels turning in his head as he said, "You know, I could use this to my advantage."
I waited, and he said, "You know that problem I told you I had with my teammates? About how they resent me because they think I take too much attention away from them?"
I nodded slowly, and as Dez's eyes met mine, his grin turned absolutely wolfish.
"Well, what if I said you could help me with that?"