Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
I drift into the kitchen, passing the puzzle she started on the large island, and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. Standing there, I drain the bottle, thankful for the silence. It’s been one thing after another since I got home two days ago. My father attended my graduation, and I hitched a ride on the plane with him, coming straight home. Ava stayed here with her daughter.
Anna-Katherine…
Dallas knows her by that name rather than the name she was born with.
Fuck. It threw me when we were at the school earlier, but it’s good that she’s bonded with him. Not many people call her Anna-Katherine.
He’ll be easier to hurt.
Starting tomorrow.
Sliding the empty glass bottle onto the island, I charge out of the kitchen, climbing the stairs. I pause at her room, gripping the handle and hesitating before I twist the knob. Dim light from the hallway spills across the floor, and I see my stepsister under the sheet in her snow-white room. The ceiling fan makes the canopy curtains billow, and I can just make out the thin white ribbon tied into a little bow on top of her brunette head. She used to sneak cigarettes with me when she was twelve and I was fourteen. Now she acts as if she has no memory of it.
“He likes you, doesn’t he?” I ask, but not loud enough for her to hear.
Just like Dallas said, my stepsister lives in a world no one else sees. It wasn’t always like that, though. Sophia Katherine Beaumont was once vibrant, beautiful, and sassy.
Now she’s vibrant and beautiful and shelters herself within the persona of a child. The people she loves call her Anna-Katherine now.
My stomach tightens as I look at her pink toes peeking out of her long nightgown and her gorgeous long hair, which has hints of red through the locks. “What’s not to like?” I say through my teeth.
He never protected my secrets or let me just be around him all day.
Not like he does you.
“Callum?”
I jolt, realizing my jaw aches from grinding my teeth. My stepmother stands in the corner of my eye, and I pull Sophia’s door closed.
Turning toward her, I meet her concerned eyes. If only she were perceptive enough to notice when my father was opening her daughter’s door at night.
Brushing past her, I head to my room, ripping off my tie as she follows.
I barge through my door, slipping off my watch and putting it on my dresser with my phone and wallet.
She stands in my doorway, but I speak before she can. “Go with my father to Aspen,” I tell her.
I know she wants to talk, but there’s nothing I want to say to her right now.
“You think that bastard wants me around?”
“Then go somewhere.” I shoot her a look. “I need space.”
“Sophia—”
“Sophia stays with me,” I cut her off.
I unbutton my vest and remove my jacket.
“Why?”
Because Dallas likes her. She makes him vulnerable. That could be useful.
“Because I take care of her now,” I reply instead.
She was in treatment when I was away at college, but now that we’re both home, she stays with me.
I unbutton my shirt, feeling her mother’s eyes on me.
“What are you going to do?” she presses.
I narrow my eyes on her and then stalk to the door, forcing her to back up. “I’m going to put some men in their place, and I’m going to succeed where others have failed,” I taunt. “I’m going to have some fun. My father won’t be in this house for long.”
And the Jaegers won’t be able to keep the Bay by the time I’m done with them.
I slam the door on her and remove my clothes. She has no choice but to trust me.
3
Dallas
The high morning winds sweep through the forest outside my window, whipping the palms and rocking the branches. Slivers of the gray horizon peek through the leaves, but the trees and forest floor consume my view.
It was the one thing I asked Macon for when we renovated this old house. A floor-to-ceiling picture window for my room on the second floor. One where I can sit on the end of my bed, like I am now, and just sink into my head.
He’d simply nodded. As if he knew how close I was to leaving the Bay for good.
Maybe I wanted him to say no. It would’ve given me one final excuse to be done with it all, but he agreed, spending a week rebuilding the wall to accommodate my request. I guess it was his way of saying he didn’t want me to go.
It affected me more than I wished it did, because my older brother’s kindness had always been hard-won.
Leaning my elbows onto my knees, I watch the palm fronds bend and sway, and even though the window is closed, I can smell the storm that’s coming. This is the part I love, though. Waiting for the doom. Addicts don’t love the high. They love the anticipation just before. The reality never measures up.