AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head. “I don’t even know who that is.”
“This morning, when I left the classroom.” I run a hand through my hair as the horrific images flash to the front of my mind. “Another boy brutally murdered Henley Anderson.”
Eva gasps, shaking her head. “Are you serious?”
“I’m surprised you hadn’t heard the way gossip travels around the school.” I walk back toward her and sit on the sofa. “He was collateral in a war his father was a part of.” I meet Eva’s wide-eyed gaze. “Make no mistake. This place is just as dark, fucked-up, and brutal as the world they belong to outside of these grounds.”
Eva places her wineglass down on the coffee table and takes my hands, squeezing. “Why do you do it when it makes you miserable?”
“Do what?” I ask.
“Run this school.”
My stomach flips as I look into her eyes. The answer to that question is not one I can dignify with an answer, not yet—not until I know I can trust Eva. “I don’t know,” I say, pulling my hands from hers. It’s insane how well she knows me. Am I that easy to read? “I need to check on the food.”
I glance back at Eva to see she is watching me with disappointment in her eyes. The fact is, she can’t yet know the truth. Not until I determine how far her hatred runs for her parents.
“It’s ready,” I say, smiling. “Have a seat at the table.”
She does as I say, getting up and sitting in the chair next to mine. “Is here okay?”
“Perfect,” I say as I place the dish of lasagne down on the heat mat in the center. “One moment. Can’t forget the garlic bread.”
Her stomach grumbles. “It all smells delicious.”
When I get back to the table, I serve her a good portion and then help myself.
“Dig in,” I say.
She does, making little moaning sounds as she eats. “Wow, this lasagne is amazing. What’s your secret?”
“Italian blood,” I say, laughing.
Her brow furrows. “Really? Oakley Byrne doesn’t sound a very Italian name.”
My heart hammers hard as I realize I’ve just made my first vital mistake. No one knows my Italian origins, not even my two best friends. Before I settled in Atlanta, the life I left was long gone, buried deep. “Yeah, on my mother’s side. Half Italian,” I lie.
“Oh, I see.” She nods. “Is this her recipe?”
“Her mother’s recipe. My grandma.”
“Do they live here in Maine?” Eva asks.
I swallow hard, shaking my head. “No, my family is dead.” At least, to me. I do not know what became of the family I abandoned so many years ago. A part of me misses my siblings and my parents, but I’m thankful I escaped the tyranny of the world I was born into most of the time.
“I’m so sorry, Oak,” Eva says, placing a hand over mine. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s nothing,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. “Eat.”
Eva does as she’s told, tucking into the food and making little satisfied sounds that make my cock hard and my heart skip a beat. We eat in amicable silence until we’ve eaten half the lasagne and all but one piece of garlic bread.
Eva leans back in the chair and places a hand on her stomach. “I’ve eaten way too much.”
I raise a brow. “Does that mean you don’t have room for dessert?”
Eva straightens and smiles. “I always have room for dessert.”
I laugh, as it’s the same line I use. “Good, because it is delicious.” I stand and head into the kitchen to grab the pie I made earlier. “Pecan Pie.”
