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Prologue

I have no idea where my father has been for the past two weeks. All I know is that an eight-year-old living in a fairytale manor can get up to all sorts of trouble in that time. That is, until he arrives home with a new wife who has a scruffy white-haired boy clinging to her skirts. He’s not scruffy in a dirty way, but more like his hair has never seen a brush and his shoes are muddy from playing outside. My father has smacked the back of my legs for much less.

I was born to be perfect. I must pay attention to the tutors I’ve had since I was three, my room must always be spotless, my shirt must be tucked in. Not the grey-eyed boy across from me. He nervously picks at the loose fabric around his mother’s legs, his nails dirty with some kind of paint.

“Everest,” my father says coldly. “Manners.” Oh yes, that’s right, I must remember my manners. I step forward in my polished shoes, pretending the shirt collar doesn’t scratch my neck. Lifting my chin, I straighten my spine and offer my hand towards the boy. He looks at me for a second, shy and curious and almost starting to smile, then he starts to lift his own. But before his paint-stained fingers can touch mine, my father snatches his wrist in a painful grip.

“Tsk, Cody. You will not be filthy whilst under my roof. Go wash.” Cody’s face scrunches up, his eyes shining like he is trying not to cry. Bridget, our head housekeeper, rushes in to take Cody upstairs, although it takes some tugging to release his mother’s skirt. My father ignores the fuss, and I also have to look away. Something is in Cody’s huge, sad eyes calling to me. Something that will make me forget all of my manners in an instant.

“Psst,” Cody whispers to get my attention. My eyes slide towards him as soon as our Latin tutor has turned her back. Handing me a piece of paper, I slip it beneath my desk. The sketch shows me sitting on a throne with a lopsided crown on my head. He’s gotten better at drawing in the six years since he moved into the manor, and a lot more mischievous.

Between tutoring sessions and my lacrosse training, Cody and I steal snacks from the kitchen and run deep into the manor’s grounds. Far away from my father’s watchful eye, and the staff who spy for him. Climbing trees, skipping stones in the lake, daring to stay out late enough to stargaze. It’s the freest I’ve ever felt, despite still being caged within stone walls. Although if I forget to sneak out a spare set of clothing and return dirty, it’s Cody who gets the blame. Every. Single. Time.

“I thought King Everest deserves a crown,” Cody mutters, jerking his chin towards the drawing still in my hand. I smirk, even though I hate it when he calls me that. The tutor spins around before I can refocus and snaps a ruler across Cody’s knuckles. He barely even hisses now, used to the pain of distracting me from my studies.

Shaking his slender fingers, Cody rolls his neck back towards the smartboard posted in our home study, and I sneakily watch him out of my peripheral vision. His white hair has retained its colorless hue, although it’s much longer now. Flicking across his forehead, his hair shifts against his lashes when he blinks, the mess up top seeming to make his jawline more pronounced. As of lately, we’ve both had growth spurts, and we’ve both noticed.

The door behind us slams open, and I realize too late that I wasn’t just looking out of the corner of my eye. My head had turned towards Cody, staring openly. Before I manage to snap my head back forward, my father looms over us like a shadow. His hand closes around Cody’s collar, dragging him backwards out of his seat.

“Wait, he didn’t do anything!” I cry out, but I already know it’s futile. The ruler is cracked against the desk in front of me, my Latin tutor knowing better than to mark my skin the way she has been instructed to do to Cody.

“He’s distracting you from your studies,” my father barks. “You will have tutoring separately from now on.” Spinning in my chair, I stare after Cody with wide eyes, all while a small smile plays about his lips.

Some say boys become men at sixteen. In my father’s opinion, that’s the age when beatings can become more physical. I heard the screams filtering out of his office windows, the blood running cold in my veins. Faking a rolled ankle, I manage to convince my lacrosse coach to let me finish early to seek out an ice pack. Instead, the moment I’ve limped through the back door, I run in search of Cody.

I find him in his bathroom upstairs, the door half closed. Bracing one hand on the basin, he stares into the mirror to watch the black eye blooming across his pale face. He doesn’t look my way as I step in, his shoulders slumping from either relief that I’ve arrived or disappointment that I didn’t stay away. If only I could stay away, this wouldn’t have to keep happening. Moving past him, I wet some tissue and carefully press it to the deepening shades of purple and blue on his face.

“I hate that he does this to you,” I whisper, the sound broken as my hands tremble with the quiet kind of rage I am not allowed to show. Becoming angry only makes it worse. My father is quick to remind us all that I was perfect before Cody entered our lives.

Cody watches me through one bruised eye, his mouth lifting in a smile that is only for my comfort.

“Loving you isn’t for the weak,” he breathes, his fingers closing around my wrist. My heart stops in my chest, my lungs forgetting how to function. Peeling my hand and the tissue aside, Cody steps in closer, our chests brushing.

We shouldn’t do this. No matter how much we’ve been dancing around the small touches and soothing glances. My father would kill him if he ever found out. Yet logic doesn’t seem to stop my head from leaning in, our ruined world silencing as our mouths meet.

My suitcase lies open on the bed, half-packed with Hollowbrook Academy sweaters and lacrosse practice gear, while Cody sits beside it, pulling me closer by my tie like he can keep me here if he kisses me hard enough. I kiss him back because I don’t want to leave either. The thought of starting Hollowbrook without him is enough to fill my head with the fantastical notion of us running away and never looking back.

“Fuck, Code,” I groan against his lips. “I have to pack.” In response, Cody drags my tie further down. Pushing my hands into the mattress on either side of his head, the press of my body along the length of his is dizzying. His lean frame is the opposite of my curated one, yet we fit. We’re the opposites that attract. We’re the last two pieces of a damaged jigsaw that were never meant to find each other. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, erasing my reservations until the door bursts open.

I jerk upright as if the leash around my neck has been pulled taut. My father, with his grey eyes blazing, storms towards Cody. In the doorway, Marianne hovers uselessly, making no move to protect her only son. It’s about time someone protected him. Stepping into my father’s path, I hold my ground as he skids to a stop just a few inches away.

“Move, Everest,” he snaps, his fists already clenched so hard that his knuckles crack. “I told this runt what would happen if he corrupted you. I knew he was bad news from the second I laid eyes on him.” Pushing forward, my father jabs his index finger over my shoulder, but this time, I don’t budge.

“No,” I state frostily. The air in the room shifts at the use of that single word. That single word that I’ve never told my father in all the years he’s forced strict rules upon me. His pale eyes slide to mine, his aging face going slack. I used to think that if I obeyed the rules, if I did my very best to please him, that Cody would be safe. But it’s gotten me nowhere, and I’m so tired of being perfect. I’m tired of ignoring what I want in favor of what someone else demands.

“Neither of you want Cody here after I’m gone, so I will make you both a deal. I will go to Hollowbrook, I will win trophies and ace my classes and smile for cameras. Shake hands, carry the Calloway name with pride, and become the immaculate poster child you’ve spent eighteen years creating, but only if Cody joins me when he comes of age next year.”

The silence that follows is loaded. Marianne’s eyes dart between us all fearfully, and my father’s jaw clenches.

“He’s put you up to this. He’s poisoned you⁠—”

“I also swear to not be seen with Cody,” I interrupt. Another means to defy my father. “I’ll not give anyone a reason to ask questions, but I will not leave him behind either.” At my back, Cody rises to stand, his fingertips brushing my spine. For the first time, there’s a waver in his touch, the faintest hint that he’s unsure. In all the years I’ve known him, it’s Cody who has taken the heat for what has been building between us. Now, it’s my turn. “Do we have a deal, or am I leaving this house tonight and you’ll never see me again?”

For my father, that’s the determining factor. The threat of throwing his precious legacy into the dirt is what it takes for my father to look at me, look at the weapon he’s made, and reluctantly agree.

Sophomore year at Hollowbrook is nothing like the freedom I expected, the rules attached weighing heavily on my shoulders. But at least Cody, under the alias of Reid Wilder, is finally here. My father insisted that not only does no one find out about our connection, but that Cody has no relation to the Calloway name whatsoever, and he’s paid a lot of money to ensure it stays that way.

We quickly found our rhythm hiding amongst the shadows, sneaking around behind locked doors, and meeting in empty locker rooms long after practice has ended. Tucked between metal lockers, we share chaste kisses while the rest of the academy chants my name as if they know the real me. Today is no different, until the sound of a whistle catches my ear.