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“None of your business.”
His eyes narrow with dislike.
I smile. “Anything else?”
“It was Hannah, right?”
“Arden, actually,” I lie, just to watch his handsome features turn to granite. “Yeah, he saw me sitting by your spot all by myself—a poor, discarded damsel-in-distress—and thought he’d ride in on his big white horse and save me.”
“Bullshit,” he says, but I can see he’s not entirely certain I’m lying.
I smile suggestively. “It was quite a ride, too. He has a really big… horse.”
I must have taken it too far because the granite cracks and a faint smile tugs at his full lips. “You’re so fucking full of shit.”
“Maybe. You should text him and ask if I’m a screamer. In the meantime, I have homework to do, and you’re not allowed in my room, so…” I twist the doorknob behind me and slowly back into my bedroom.
He walks away, shaking his head.
I lock the door once it’s closed and sigh with relief that he went away so easily.
This time.
It was probably due to the fact that our parents are right at the bottom of the steps more than his basic sense of decency, but I’ll take what I can get.
___
It’s late by the time I get my homework finished.
Mom and Hayden are already in bed.
I lost track of time. I meant to go downstairs and get myself a cold bottle of water while they were still awake so I didn’t risk running into Landon—and if I did, there would be a buffer—but now I’ve missed my window, and my throat is dry.
I hate feeling so much dread at the notion of simply leaving the sanctuary of my bedroom to go downstairs and grab a drink from the fridge, but I’m like a little girl again, tiptoeing down the hall so as not to disturb the monsters that might live in the shadows.
I check each area before I enter, and when I make it to the kitchen, I feel like the winner of a board game Mom used to play with me when I was little.
Don’t wake Daddy.
I smile faintly at the memory, but my safety still feels tentative when I open the massive refrigerator and search for the bottled water.
Since I’m downstairs alone, I look around at my new home as I uncap the bottle and take a refreshing sip. It’s nothing like my old one.
Our old house was nice—nicer than we should have been able to afford—but it was a stripped-down model, lacking the high-end finishes and features the other houses in our neighborhood had. We were like paupers trying to blend in among the royals.
This house was built for a king.
I don’t know why a house needs ceilings so high. They make the place feel cavernous. It’s impeccably decorated, and I don’t think Hayden is a hobbyist interior designer, so he probably hired someone to do the job.
Every piece fits except the ones we hauled in along with us.
Most of the boxes have been put away or at least taken to the places they’re meant to be unpacked, but Mom doesn’t know this house much better than I do, so there are a few stray boxes in the living room that don’t seem to have a home yet.
I peek at the labels written on in black Sharpie. Mom wanted everything to be neat and organized to make the moving process as smooth as possible.
I know she was anxious about it. Landon is a threat she lacks confidence they can contain, so she managed the nuisances she knew shecouldcontrol.
She must have run out of steam because the box marked photo albums certainly seems like it should be in Hayden’s study. I decide to take it there for her, but my muscles are already sore from all the boxes I carried the past few days, so they balk at my lifting a box full of heavy books.
