Kaden Wilder hasn’t made any attempts over the last year to meet us. There hasn’t been a whisper on whether he’s angry or upset about the union. He didn’t even bother reacting to the news of us moving in. He’s been silent, and that’s what has me swallowing past thick fear.
I’ve seen a photo of him once, a quick flash on Mr. Wilder’s phone a few weeks ago. Kaden is only a year older than me, but my opposite in every way. His hair is black and thick with mussed curls that fall into his sharp green eyes. They’re a light shade that seems dulled, but catching nonetheless—rimmed with faint shadows as if he doesn’t sleep. He’s tall for his age, his elbows thin as if he hasn’t grown into himself yet.
There was just something so striking about seeing that photo. It was like his gaze held something I couldn’t grasp—an emptiness that shouldn’t be there. It was unnatural, but I was drawn to him. Even though his mouth was etched into a hard line, painting his indifferent nature perfectly, I couldn’t stop my eyes from soaking in every detail. The baggy black pants tucked into scuffed dark boots, the thick jacket that swallowed his frame, and the chains around his neck were like gazing into a life I had no part in.
Not with my frilly dresses or pastel colors. I don’t know why I was so intrigued by his appearance, but something sparked inme.
A hope.
Maybe despite our differences, we could be a family. One patched on the broken pieces of our parents’ pasts, but close as siblings.
I’ve always wanted a sister or brother. The life of an only child can get lonely. I’ve tried to see every possible good outcome to this meeting. We’re moving in, and my only fear is that Kaden takes one good look at me before turning up his nose and never speaking to me again.
The poor girl from the trailer park is left with a new big house, a bonus parent, but no sibling to run to when times get tough.
“Look at how beautiful, Jellybean!” Mom exclaims, peering up at the lavish home with bright eyes.
It’s grand in appearance with pale stones constructing the outside. The roof is dark and sloped sharply, matching the ambiance of the tall floor-to-ceiling windows, which offer a tinted view of the living room. I know there’s a large terrace out back and an inground pool that stretches as far as the eye can see.
This is a whole new world, and I can’t help my wonder as I stare in disbelief. How could someone possibly have this much money? It’s unbelievable…
Mom pulls up to the massive garage before cutting the engine. She gives me one last look of reassurance before placing her hand on my knee. “Everything is going to be fine, Melody. I promise.”
I nod, swallowing back my trepidation the best I can as I open my door and step onto the beige cobblestones. The air kisses my skin as the sun soaks into my shoulders. It’s nice, but it isn’t a balm for the nerves currently eating away at my stomach.
Mom pulls her cardigan closed over her chest, beaming as the front door to the home opens. Mr. Wilder steps out of the house, smiling warmly when he catches sight of us in his driveway.
He’s tall, over six feet, and slightly rounded around his middle. His hair is kept neat, with the salt-and-pepper standing out mostly at his temples. The loose white button-down he wears wrinkles as he moves, revealing the long khaki pants he wears with elegant dress shoes. His bulky watch catches the light, shining as he nears us.
“Hello, my love,” he says warmly before encasing Mom in his arms and kissing her.
“Hi,” she says bashfully, her lips quirking as her eyes become love-drunk.
“Melody, my dear, you look lovely,” Mr. Wilder compliments before giving me a tight squeeze. His cologne, something rich and deep, curls in my nose as I return his embrace.
“Hi, Mr. Wilder,” I reply pleasantly.
He takes a step back, pride shining in his eyes. “My girls. Let me get you situated.”
He takes Mom’s hand, their voices quieting to a whisper as I trail behind them. I can’t help but watch their interaction as Mom smiles at the man, her eyes filled with hearts. She’s completely smitten with him, and as they chuckle quietly together, I know Mr. Wilder’s feelings are just the same.
Walking into his home is like stepping into another dimension entirely. Beneath my feet, polished marble sparkles, and I catch my own reflection. The ceiling is tall, and the natural light from the windows casts a glow over the spacious living room area where wide white sofas rest. There’s a huge fireplace adorned with sentimental photos and a flat screen above it.
The kitchen is connected in the open layout, but it seems miles away from where I stand. Hanging light fixtures dangle above the marble island, and the fridge is big enough to feed an army rather than a father and son. There’s a connected pantry that’s open and much bigger than my bedroom back at the trailer park.
I feel so utterly out of place, but as the older man turns his kind smile on me, I relax. He knows this is a change for us.
“I’ll get your bags from the car. Why don’t you unwind?” Mr. Wilder offers.
“Thank you, Maxwell,” Mom grins.
He kisses her cheek. “Anything for you, my love.”
The sounds of footsteps on the stairwell draw my attention. My breath becomes bated, resting between a heartbeat and time as it stands still. The dark boots thud against the steps, drawing my gaze to the boy wearing them.
Kaden is haunting in person—the bags under his eyes are deeper, and the sharpness in them seems to snag on every movement like an intrusion. The air around him is thick, yet utterly dead. There is no brightness or playfulness to the eleven-year-old boy. He’s quiet and calm, not a hint of surprise pulling at his relaxed features.
He’s hauntingly beautiful.
