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It was a lot, coming here after the shabby, run-down house I grew up in, or the foster homes I passed through for a few months before my aunt found me. Her house was a warren. Endless tunnels and chambers, but instead of being dark and shadowy, they were light and airy.
The house even had twojunglesinside it. Who had jungles in their house?
“They’re atriums,” she had said in a kind voice. “Go ahead and explore.”
I didn’t explore. I haunted the house, wandering through rooms like I’d find what I was looking for right around the corner. I wanted to go back home. To see my dad.
I stole, mostly from the kitchen, to see if I could get away with it. Aunt Cora turned a blind eye to my kitchen thievery and slowly lured me out with kind words, sweet treats, and a three-legged puppy. For two whole weeks, I thought maybe this wouldn’t be so bad for a while. It was a hell of a lot better than foster care. I could do this. Until Dad got out of prison and brought me home.
Thenhecame home. Michael Sinclair. Tall and dark, like some gaunt villain from a movie I’d once watched—one that kept me up for a week. His face was stern when he looked me over, a sigh escaping his lips like he’d decided I was lacking.
I don’t know what made me do it. He’d left a watch on the kitchen counter. It had been easy to slip it into my pocket after I’d raided the candy dish. Dad didn’t care when I took things from stores—that was half the reason he took me sometimes. And this watch had to be worth a lot of money. It looked fancy. Maybe I could use it to help Dad.
“Gabriel.”
Michael Sinclair stood stiffly, dressed in a shirt with buttons and pants that weren’t jeans or sweats, sour disappointment on his face.
“That isn’t yours.”
“I don’t have anything.” Lying was second nature. Using my fists was too, but not on a grown-up who could easily beat my ass. Still, I’d hit him if he tried anything.
“Give it here.” He held out his hand.
Time crept by, his cool blue eyes never wavering. I was busted.
Would he hit me? Scream and yell? He’d caught me, I might as well find out how things were going to be.
I took the watch out of my pocket, slowly placing it in the palm of his hand and taking a quick step back.
Michael clasped the watch around his wrist, his face relaxing. “Thank you for returning it. This watch doesn’t belong to you. It was a gift from your aunt. You stealing it—or anything else—would hurt her.”
I didn’t want to hurt Aunt Cora. She was kind. If I hurt her, she might get rid of me. Leave me with Michael, or send me back to a foster family.
“You are a Sinclair, now. You will act like a Sinclair, and a Sinclair knows right from wrong. I do not expect perfection from you at such a young age and so soon after leaving your dad. But you will do better. Understood?”
I didn’t, not yet. I ran into the living room and down the stairs to the smaller atrium. Down another short flight of stairs was an apartment, but the door was locked, so I hid behind the covered hot tub.
It took the better part of a year before I trusted Michael. A little longer before his lessons started to sink in and even longer before they meant something to me.
Before they meant everything.
Ashley’s giggle brings me back to myself, and when Cora leaves the living room for a moment, I take advantage and peek into the room.
The kitten is pouncing and leaping at the string Ashley lazily swings through the air. She’s smiling.
I tug at the collar of my T-shirt and go back to my chopping before she sees me. All of Michael’s stifling expectations and lofty goals are suffocating when I’m around her. I don’t want to be Gabriel Sinclair anymore.
I can’t let myself feel this way, not when all I am to her is a step closer to a goal and a warm body that can give her pleasure. She doesn’t care about me—hell, she’s in love with another man. That alone should be enough to end this fascination. I shouldn’t need to come home to look for Michael Sinclair’s ghost to remind me that Ashley Foley is exactly the wrong woman for me. She’d push me down to bring herself up and never look back. I can’t trust her.
Michael was a hypocrite, but it doesn’t mean he was wrong. I can stay on the path he put me on. Ashley’s a temporary distraction, a means to an end, and whatever I’m feeling for her doesn’t matter.
Chapter sixteen
Gabe
Onenightinmyold room has me feeling more like myself. Waking up and knowing I don’t have to get in the car with Ash, I don’t have to pose for pictures with her or fake it in public is a relief. If Cora keeps running interference, I won’t even have to see her.
After seven days in the driver’s seat, it’s good to move too. An early morning run up and down the trails zigzagging the mountains clears my head and puts me back on course. I can fake date Ashley Foley and keep my distance. She’s so pissed off at me anyway that I doubt she’ll make any more advances. Once we’re safely in LA, we’ll be down to scheduled public dates.
