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Ever since Samantha showed up, I’ve been pacing the length of my room, back and forth like a trapped animal.
After I talked to Lewis, I spent time with Kirian and Dad. We played Scrabble, then we put my baby brother to bed. Now, I’m in my room, feeling out of sorts.
Dad just told me about what Samantha is threatening, and I might have died inside a little.
Yes, the threat of the press and being known as Xan’s sister is crippling, and the thought of media attention makes me shake, but that’s not the reason I’ve been on the verge of crying.
It’s Xander.
It’s the boy who was running after that red car when he was so small. It’s the image of his crying face and the sound of his screams as he begged Samantha to stay, right before he tripped and fell.
That image has never left my mind. It was pain in its truest form, raw and deep.
The fact that the same woman has returned to inflict a different type of pain on him makes me want to punch her in the face.
She disappeared for twelve years just so she could come back and ruin his life.
Our lives.
I retrieve my phone and check my messages. Nothing from him, so I type.
Kimberly: Are you there?
No answer.
Kimberly: You know I’m here for you. I’ll never leave, just like I promised.
Still nothing.
The thought that he’s out drinking or fighting freaks me out.
I tuck the phone into the pocket of my pyjamas and head to the kitchen for some Lady Grey tea – Dad may have made me a fan lately.
On my way downstairs, I text Ronan.
Kimberly: Did Xander come by?
Ronan: Who’s that? Oh, the traitor. If he shows up, he’ll be slaughtered.
Ronan: Want to come to my party of one?
Ronan: Or two if you count the weed.
I shake my head, then text Elsa.
Kimberly: Did Xander get in touch with Aiden?
Elsa: No. Is everything okay?
Kimberly: It’s fine. I’ll tell you tomorrow.
Elsa: This is Aiden, make it after tomorrow. Or better yet, next week.
I consider texting Cole, but I don’t dare to after what he witnessed the other week.
“It’s final, Jeanine. I’ve made my decision.”
Dad’s voice stops me in my tracks at the entrance to the kitchen. He’s at the table, talking to Mum with his usual cool tone.
