I clean up my mess and take everything with me, waving goodbye to Sam, the night-shift full-timer, who’s behind the desk when I pass.
The April night is thick, the days becoming warmer than usual in the south for this time of year. There’s heaviness in the air, and the humidity clinging to my skin is a telltale sign of a good storm.
I get into my car and start it up, letting the cool AC blast through the vents and cool down my overheated skin. The thought of seeing Kane in just under thirty minutes has me working up a sweat. I take off, trying to let the words of the song playing on the radio give me strength to get through this night with at least a couple pieces of myself intact.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
kane
Lie – Sasha Alex Sloan
Iroll my truck up to the ostentatious gate, the looming gold bars almost blinding me as the sun hits them, the whole thing attached to a beige brick fence that surrounds the property like an impenetrable force.
The manor sits in front of a backdrop of half-dead trees trying to break through with the warming Tennessee spring. Spring showers are finally bringing life back to the plants that lie dormant during the brutal winter months.
Subtlety was never Angelo D’Antonio’s strong suit, especially when he bought a luxury estate nestled in one of Tennessee’s smaller towns outside Nashville, located directly next to Cherry Hill.
I type in the code and watch as the gold bars open, reminding me of the gates you see when they let you enter the underworld, with demons waiting to strike.
I take my truck up the never-ending drive, the pit in my stomach getting heavier the farther I go.
It’s another dinner for my father to talk about himselfwith his disgustingly wealthy friends, who all hate each other and throw money around all night. The second you walk into one of these things, you can feel the air being sucked from the room by their overinflated egos. I’m not sure why I keep showing up. With my trust fund now mine, I have no reason to be here, but some part of me is still hoping my father or mother will recognize me as their son.
I tap my fingers on top of the steering wheel, the silver of my cuff links gleaming in the sun. The rings stacked on my fingers feel like armor. I rub theAring to give myself some courage for the night.
I take in the scenery around me, the soft, fluffy clouds sparse against the vibrant blue sky, reminding me of Avery’s eyes. The blue is so clear it feels as if you can see for miles above you. The air carries that ever-present scent of humidity, finally. My black truck is freshly washed ahead of tonight, not that he’ll be checking. But with my anxiety reaching an all time high, I figured it was best to cover all bases.
I glance to the side where Avery should be sitting as panic starts to tighten further in my chest. It started this morning, dull but familiar, with small bouts of pressure I know too well. I thought of going to visit the rescue shelter as a way of taking my mind off of it and maybe catching a quick sight of Avery to help, but I was way too behind on my paperwork to go. I opted to get dressed early and swing by on my way here, just to see her car in the parking lot.
I saw Grayson’s car too, and it brought a smile to my face knowing one of our friends was there with her, taking care of her like I hope to one day again. Grayson may be the newest addition to our group, but he has created such a soft spot in all of us. We opened up to each other in ways the others don’t understand. We don’t always need words tocommunicate, and he gets me sometimes in a way the others don’t.
I’m grateful she agreed to this charade, but us not arriving together reminds me of the stark difference between now and the last time we came here.
It was my father’s birthday, an over-the-top gold-on-gold party that we left laughing together, when Avery slipped an expensive bottle of champagne under her dress and ran out of the house after the first appetizers were served. The joy that radiated from her face as I peeled out of the driveway is something I’ll remember my entire life. We made a run for it as if we were Bonnie and Clyde and the night was ours for the taking. The sight of her long blue dress on my bedroom floor was even better than it had been on her, though the way it hugged her curves had left me drooling after her. I spent my time thanking her. Properly.
I blink back to the present and park in front of the fifteen-car garage in my usual spot. My space in the garage was quickly filled with some sports car my father bought the moment I left for college, another excuse to show off his ever-growing wealth.
I put my truck in park and inhale a breath, letting the cool air from the vents blast me in the face. Slowly, it helps lower my heart rate. I count in for four and out for four, until I can feel the tips of my fingers come back to life.
I lean back against the leather seat and give myself a few minutes to get my guard up before facing what I’m sure will be a nonstop test of my sanity.
I take my phone out of the cup holder, my heart leaping at a new text from Avery shining on the home screen. I ignore every other message and unlock my screen as my background photo blares at me: a photo of Avery with my guitar across her legs, me behind her, helping her learn. Ichange it weekly to a new picture of her or us, another way to keep her close to me, even when the gap between us feels so vast.
Her long, thick hair is up in a messy bun, with a soft smile on her face and a wrinkled brow as she tries to understand the chord progression I’m explaining, mid-laugh behind her. I can remember the way her back molded so perfectly to me then, the guitar resting softly in her lap, my arms curled around hers as I helped her trace the patterns of the music. A record played softly in the background, a tune I was trying to have her follow.
Warmth floods my chest at the memory, calming the last of the panic along the recesses of my mind. I open her message.
Pretty Girl
I’m leaving now. The new intake took longer than I thought. I’m so sorry!
I grin down at the message, imagining her soft voice as if she were speaking the words directly to me. I know she probably saw a new dog ready to board and immediately lost track of time making it comfortable in its new cage. It was always her favorite part.
Me
No worries. I just got here, and I know my mom is staring out the window wondering why I’m taking so long. Don’t text and drive.
Pretty Girl
