Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Dahlia

T his wedding is an absolute circus. My pale green dress, while beautiful, makes me feel like a tiered cake as I watch everyone rush around outside. The ceremony starts in an hour and a half, and Mom is still getting dressed, hiding from her soon-to-be husband.

At least it’s not as warm today, or I’d be sweaty and uncomfortable. Instead, I just feel as if I’m about to go under a microscope with people I don’t know.

“This is insane, isn’t it?” my soon-to-be stepsister asks, leaning next to me against a tree. Startled because I’ve been alone in my corner and lost in my thoughts, I glance over at Bronwyn. Her long red curls are perfectly behaved, and she doesn’t look at all ridiculous in the darker green dress that she’s wearing.

“Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing,” I murmur. “As long as they’re both happy, I guess it’s fine.”

I decided to pretend my birthday isn’t today. I’m completely abolishing the day. I don’t want to feel salty or sad on what is supposed to be my mom’s special day.

Again.

“Well, I don’t think just their happiness is important,” Bronwyn counters, pressing her shoulder against mine. Even though I just showed up out of the blue, she’s been really nice to me. I would have thought she’d be annoyed Mom dragged me to Detroit, but she hasn’t been at all.

“What about how you feel?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I state. “I’m simply decorative at this point.”

My brown curls have not enjoyed Michigan weather, and the hairdressers had a hell of a time taming them into the curled updo I’m now wearing. I wasn’t aware I had freckles either, but I don’t really pay attention to what I look like.

My tan from Florida is long faded, and there’s a small smattering of freckles now along my nose.

Dad’s Welsh background is popping out more it seems as I get older. I should feel excited that I have something of his to remember him by, but I’m not. The makeup artist attacked them with a vengeance, muttering about sun damage and how ugly she thinks freckles are.

Bronwyn doesn’t have a single one, despite her red hair and pale complexion.

“If you believe that, then I think I’m not doing a very good job at being a good sister,” she grumbles. “I’m an only child, but I’ve always wanted someone to hang out with all of the time. Do you think we can at least be friends?”

Sighing, I watch as Jack walks into the garden where the wedding will take place. Bronwyn and Gareth’s house is behind us, and it’s freaking huge. I’ve already gotten lost multiple times. The maids have had to help me find the kitchen three times this week. I can’t help it if I can’t keep it all straight.

I swear it’s large enough for us all to live together and never run into each other.

“I think I could use a friend,” I say softly. “I haven’t had many of those in a while.”

“Why not?” she asks. Bronwyn is shorter than I am, perky, and cuter than a button. I imagine she’s really popular in school as well.

“There’s a lot of reasons,” I hedge as I see Jack’s eyes find me. I didn’t think he was serious when he said he was moving to Detroit, but he said he can work from anywhere, as long as he can meet clients as needed.

“Spill. And who is that guy?” she asks, looking worried as his long legs begin to stride toward us. Jack’s a big guy, I imagine it’s jarring to see him.

“He was my dad’s best friend,” I tell her. “Jack is kind of my hero, I just don’t think he realizes it.”

“Dolly, you look…” He frowns at my dress and I roll my eyes.

“I look like a cake about to topple over,” I finish. Jack covers his mouth as he attempts to stifle a laugh, but it doesn't bother me. Facts are facts.

“I wasn’t going to say it,” he says. “I wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Bronwyn asks, bristling. “Is there something wrong?”

Closing my eyes because I’m not the best about keeping my feelings to myself, I open them to find Jack merely looking bemused.

“Jack, this is Bronwyn, my soon-to-be sister. She’s very invested in making sure I settle in well,” I explain.

Understanding fills his blue and green eyes as he realizes he kind of offended her.

“That’s good, because I’m also invested in that,” he says. “Dolly hasn’t had the best year, and I want to make sure that changes.”

“You mean Dahlia,” she corrects. “Do you have a secret name I don’t know about?”

The question is directed at me. Is she jealous that I have inside jokes and things with Jack?

I’ve known Bronwyn for five minutes, if that.

“No,” I say, lips twitching. I’m incredibly amused by this for some reason. It’s as good of a reason as any to ignore this big, lavish wedding. There’s giant white flowers everywhere. It looks like Martha Stewart threw up outside.

It’s pretty, just overwhelming. “Jack has known me since I was born, Bronwyn. Fifteen years is a long time to know someone.”

“Wait, I thought you were fourteen,” she says, confused and I blanch as I realize my fuck up.

Jack pushes his hand through his hair, fucking up the perfectly styled strands.

“More secrets, Dolly?” he mutters.

“It’s inappropriate to have a birthday in the midst of all of this,” I say primly. “So I’m pretending it’s not today. It’s not a secret if everyone else has forgotten about it.”

“It’s your birthday?” Bronwyn hisses, pulling me around to face her. I giggle at being manhandled, but she’s so tiny, it’s really adorable. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Your mother suggested this date because she said it felt important to her.”

“And now you know why,” I say, snickering. I shouldn’t be laughing, but I can’t stop. Gasping in a breath, I shake my head because I can feel it becoming a panic attack. I’ve had two over the last year, and I had to look up the symptoms to make sure I wasn’t dying.

“Dahlia, you’re okay,” Jack says roughly, rubbing my back. “I would love to believe Lucia forgot your goddamn birthday in a fit of excitement, but I don’t believe in humanity enough.”

Forcing a shuddering breath through my body as I struggle not to cry, I nod. Bronwyn is watching with wide eyes as she holds my hand tightly.

“Yeah, it’s possible she may have done it in spite of it being my birthday,” I mumble. “Look, I just want to get through today, pretend it’s not my birthday, and then slip away during the party to hide in my room.”

“You can’t pretend it’s not your birthday,” Bronwyn says, looking as if I’m breaking her heart. It’s sweet, but living alone for six months was a lot worse than this.

“Watch me,” I grunt like a brat as the wedding coordinator calls us over.

“I have your birthday present, so we’re going to table this, but understand you didn’t win this one, Dahlia,” Jack grumbles.

I really want to stick my tongue out at them both, but hold myself back.

“I should get to win things on my birthday,” I sass instead, walking toward the coordinator.

“My stepsister is a brat,” Bronwyn whispers at Jack, and I pretend not to hear her.

“She really fucking is,” Jack sighs. “Shit, sorry for the cursing, kid.”

“I‘ve heard worse,” she says with a giggle, chasing after me.

Detroit may be a little bit more palatable with the two of them here. My stepsister is sweet, and seems to genuinely care. In my head, I had this twisted vision of a really mean girl who would be angry I was living in her house, but I’ve not seen anything remotely like that.

As she links her arm in mine, I decide I’m going to attempt to think positively.

This will be a good move. It has to be.

Jack

I shouldn’t be this protective over Dahlia, but as she attempts to fade into the background beside her mother, I find that I am. She had a shit hand dealt to her between Alvin’s death and him hiding money so he wouldn’t have to pay taxes.

The fucker didn’t only hide a little, he pretended to have some awful investments he could write off, and then hid the rest. The government could have gone after Lucia for it, but because it wasn’t written into the will, they gave up on it. I don’t know what he was thinking.

Alvin was always a bit greedy, though. It’s the reason he was always networking, working when he said he was supposed to be with Dolly having fun. No wonder she couldn’t think of anything to say when Lucia put her on the spot at the funeral.

Everyone here looks perfect and very rich. I make really good money with a third stake of ownership in my company, but I would never flaunt it like this. I’m just a normal guy.

The ceremony is long winded with an aged pastor marrying Lucia and Gareth. I’m sitting toward the front, carefully watching everything. Not because I give a shit about their wedding, but because Dahlia has flinched three times during it. From where I’m sitting, I can’t tell if she’s being bitten, having a seizure, or someone is fucking pinching her.

Bronwyn’s frowning slightly, which means she’s noticing that something is going on as well. The protective part of me that worries surges forward, and I struggle to keep myself from growling.

I really wish I could steal Dolly away. Give her a normal fucking childhood. Anything would be better than her what parents have given her.

As the ceremony ends, everyone trails up the aisle, and I see Dolly struggling to keep a smile on her face. Her body is stiff and robotic, the hand not around the bouquet of flowers visibly shaking.

The second that everyone starts to move toward the huge tent where the wedding reception is, I start to follow her to see what happened.

“I don’t know what happened,” Bronwyn says, walking quickly up to me. “She kept rubbing her side every time she flinched, but I couldn’t see anything. Could it have been her mom?”

“Better not have fucking been,” I growl. Bronwyn is a smart girl, I appreciate that I don’t have to connect the dots for her. “God, I hate that woman so damn much.”

“What’s her deal?” she asks.

My brows draw down as Dolly drops her bouquet, quickly walking away from the tent toward the covered path and the rest of the garden. I heard vaguely that there was a butterfly garden back there, and I imagine she needs a moment.

The sun is starting to set in an array of gorgeous colors, but all it’s doing is masking another really shitty day in her life.

“Lucia’s deal? She’s a selfish woman,” I grunt, my footsteps soundless as I walk on the sod instead of the pathway. Bronwyn takes careful steps to remain quiet in her heels as she tries to understand why I’d say that.

“I refuse to tell Dolly’s secrets, but I moved to Detroit to make sure she’s taken care of. The best explanation I can give is that she’s negligent.”

“Lucia has been living in Detroit for months,” Bronwyn says slowly. “Where has Dahlia been living?”

We’re talking softly as Dolly walks faster and faster, almost tripping over her feet. She’s wearing heels that she’s obviously not used to, and her feet have to be killing her.

“In New England,” I mutter, worried as I watch Dolly pull off her shoes and toss them to the side before disappearing down another path.

“With her brother, right? I met him when Dad first introduced us,” Bronwyn explains.

How did she meet Cyrus? Unless they’ve been hiding Dolly this entire time.

This is getting worse and worse. I wonder if he’s at the wedding, because if he is, I’m going to be hard pressed not to kick his ass. Family should mean more to him than this.

“Her brother moved out of the apartment almost a year and a half ago,” I state, letting her figure it out as I walk down the path Dolly practically ran down.

First, I scooped up her heels, because just because they’re torture implements, they shouldn’t be left on the path abandoned. There’s no reason to make someone worried enough to look for her. That’s my job.

“But that would mean…” Bronwyn trails off as it all clicks for her, and I see a bit of pale green fabric peeking out from behind a bush.

Lucia chose a fabric that would wash her daughter out, while ensuring Bronwyn and she looked vibrant and healthy. I don’t understand why anyone would do this to their own child.

“Yep,” I say. “Dolly has lived alone for the last six months.”

Stepping around the bush, I find a tearstained face looking up at me as Dolly sobs against a tree. She’s sitting on the ground, her legs drawn tightly to her body as she trembles. Sighing, I drop her shoes and sit on the ground next to her, lifting her into my lap.

“I would much rather you cry it out than pretend you’re fine,” I say as I wrap my arms around her. Dolly is tall for her age, but that doesn’t matter with my six-foot-three frame. She drops her head onto my chest as she sniffles, and Bronwyn sits next to us.

“Couldn’t she sit between us?” Bronwyn asks. “I mean, you’re really old, Jack.”

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “If you think there’s anything inappropriate happening, then that says more about you than me,” I say bluntly.

Bronwyn flushes as red as her hair, and my lips twitch. I think she likes Dolly, which will make things very interesting since they’re stepsisters. Personally, I think love is love, and as long as they’re both happy, I don’t give a fuck.

I am really old at forty-two and Dolly just turned fifteen. I care about her because I’ve known her entire life, and she’s too good of a person to have had such a shit hand dealt to her. Outside of that? I don’t have any romantic interest.

“What happened during the ceremony, Dolly?” I ask, wanting to smooth back her hair. There’s so much damn product, it’s impossible. While her curls look bouncy and frizz free, I can tell they used a ton of shit to make that happen.

Detroit is already being a bitch to her, and she just moved here.

“It’s… dumb,” she says, hiccuping. “Shit, I fucked up my makeup, didn’t I?”

Wincing, I curse myself out for using so much profanity around her.

“A bit,” I lie. She’s wearing false lashes without mascara, so at least that’s not running. The rest can be easily fixed. “You’re fine. I did notice you were twitching at the altar…”

“So unless you’ve suddenly developed some kind of spontaneous twitch that only happens during weddings, please explain what happened,” Bronwyn says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Chuckling, I nod. I think she’ll be good for Dolly.

“No, I haven’t developed a weird twitch,” she says with a small smirk. Dolly is still doing this shuddering gasp as she breathes, coming down from her sob fest, but she’s slowly gaining color back in her cheeks. “I was getting pinched by my mom.”

“I fucking knew it,” I growl.

“Down boy,” Dolly mutters, making my jaw drop. “I’ve always thought of you as this big, growly guardian. People move away when you walk past, and I’m pretty sure you scare them.”

“Good,” I nod. “I will growl if I want to, though. Adult’s prerogative.”

Dolly and Bronwyn glance at each other, rolling their eyes as I laugh, getting more comfortable against the tree.

“You two will be hellions together, but I think it’ll be good too,” I murmur. “So where did she pinch you?”

Hissing, Dolly trails her fingers over her side gingerly.

“It shouldn’t still hurt, but does it?” I ask, wondering how hard her mother pinched her. “I wonder if it’ll be bruised.”

“Mom doesn’t do anything half assed,” she says softly.

“She uses her whole ass, huh?” Bronwyn asks, snickering.

They giggle together, and I sigh, glad that Dolly isn’t crying anymore.

“Okay, so you know I finished moving into the city, right?” I ask, and the girls focus on me as they nod. “I still have to travel for work, but I’m here for at least two weeks until that happens. I want to be made aware of how you’re doing. If you don’t answer, I’ll bang on this front door until you answer. Is that clear?”

“All I hear is growling,” Dolly grumbles, and Bronwyn surprises me as she pretends to howl.

“You’re both so mean, God,” I gasp. “I want a once a week dinner or standing ice cream appointment. It’s non-negotiable, but you can bring the new stepsister if you want.”

“Gee, thanks for including me,” Bronwyn mutters. “Why dinner or ice cream?”

“Because there are times when you’re sad that only ice cream will do,” I say sagely. Dolly nods, because it’s true.

I took her out for ice cream when she found out her mom was getting remarried, and as much as she tried to hide the cut on her cheek, I still saw it. Lucia is a fucking menace. I hate that Dolly is going to live in this giant house with her and a man I know nothing about.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I know everything I was able to find out through my job, but he’s pretty squeaky clean.

Gareth Davies is a cardiologist at Sinai-Grace Hospital, has a perfect medical record, and seems to be well liked by his patients. There’s no evidence of malpractice either.

I still don’t really like the guy. Gareth is five foot nine, in his late forties, and has a slight paunch in his stomach. The man looks as if he used to play football, and now his body is slowly running to fat.

Lucia gazed at him during the wedding ceremony as if he hung the moon, but apparently still had time to terrorize her daughter as well.

“How come you know all of this girl stuff? Are you gay?” Bronwyn asks, bumping into my body so I’ll scoot over. For such a little person, she has a ton of attitude.

Rolling my eyes, I move over, easing Dolly between us. I glance over to make sure she’s okay with it, but she just rests her head on the tree trunk with a smirk. I don’t want her to think I took Bronwyn’s words to heart, because I don’t care what anyone thinks.

I’ll always fight to be a part of her life in some way.

“Dolly taught me,” I say honestly. “Her dad was my best friend from childhood. My sexual orientation is none of your business, though. I took her on trips to the zoo and to the diner whenever I was in town. I didn’t live in Florida anymore, but I visited often.”

“I was rude, sorry,” Bronwyn says before jumping to the next topic. “So where were you when Dahlia was living alone in New England, huh?”

“What?” Dolly asks in surprise.

“It kind of slipped out,” I say. “I was pissed off that you were upset, but Bee figured it out mostly on her own.”

“It’s Bronwyn,” Bee sniffs.

“It’s a mouthful,” Dolly teases as they laugh. “My name isn’t that long, and I still have a terrible nickname. Be happy it’s not ‘Winnie’.”

At the evil glint in my eyes as I look over at her, Bee groans. “Ugh, fine. I see your point.”

We spend the next half an hour hiding before I walk them to the house to clean up Dolly’s makeup, and I wait outside. Lucia finds me leaning against the side of the house, answering work emails while I waited. I’d much rather her attempt to pick a fight with me than Dolly.

“Congratulations Lucia,” I say, pocketing my phone. I dressed for the occasion in a navy-blue designer suit. There was no way I was going to have her throw me out for not having the right attire on.

I already am crashing the wedding as it is. My invitation somehow got lost in the mail.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Jack,” she hisses, looking around as if someone can hear. Everyone is partying and drinking in the tent, so she’s not going to find anyone around. It’s why I walked the girls up to the house. It’s been an hour since the wedding ceremony ended, and people are already drunk.

With this many random people in the backyard, I don’t feel as if it’s safe for the girls to walk alone. Even though I’m not looking at either girl like that , I can admit they’re both beautiful. There are bathrooms set up outside and at the pool house for the guests, and no one is supposed to enter the house.

Still, I’m feeling twitchy. There was no way I was going to miss this stupid wedding. For Dolly.

“I will always be anywhere Dahlia needs me,” I tell her with a lazy shrug. “You’ve shown how awful of a mother you are to me, and I would have called the department of children and families in New England if I’d thought there was a sliver of a possibility of them giving me custody.”

“You’ve always been obsessed with her,” Lucia sniffs. It’s amazing how well beauty hides the ugliness underneath. I don’t think Alvin ever saw it before he died. “It’s disgusting and revolting the way you fawn over her.”

“You mean the way I show up when Dahlia is left alone for six months by her mother?” I counter. “Or the way I spent time with her when you and Alvin were too busy when I came to visit? It’s not disgusting to love someone as if they were yours. Does your new husband know what a negligent mother you are?”

“Just go away, Jack. Go back to wherever it is you live,” she says petulantly, flicking her fingers at me. Her engagement ring sits over her wedding ring, a gaudy rock. I feel a rush of anger. That's what Lucia hit her daughter across the face with when she expressed her displeasure over her wedding ceremony.

“I don’t know if I told you, but I live in Detroit now,” I say with a grin, loving the way her mouth goes slack. “Yep, so I’m going to come by once a week to check on my girl.”

“She’s not yours, she’s my daughter, pendejo ,” she growls.

I’m definitely getting under her skin. What I don’t want is for that to make her look for someone innocent to hurt, so I’ll rein in my glee that she’s realizing I’m not fucking going away.

“Whatever you say, Lucia,” I murmur instead. “I don’t want to see that you’re hurting Dahlia, which means do not hurt her. It doesn’t mean just get better at hiding the bruises. Is that understood? I saw what you did during the ceremony.”

“She kept fidgeting,” Lucia sighs. “If Dahlia could learn to be well-mannered, I wouldn’t have to constantly correct her.”

“She’s a great kid,” I say, not understanding what the problem is. “I think you need to realize that she’s a teenager, Lucia. Your vision of perfection is never going to be attainable. Stop setting her up to fail.”

She scowls at me as Bronwyn and Dolly step out of the house, laughing and chatting. Dolly’s shoes are back on her feet, but hopefully the small break helped her. They don’t see Lucia in the shadows as they continue to walk, and I push away from the house to follow.

“Are you forgetting me?” I tease as I walk after them. Lucia slips into the house, ensuring they never see her, and I shake my head.

We’re going to have some real problems if she doesn’t figure her shit out. The girls call me a growly guard dog now, I promise that I have a bite that’s worse.

Dahlia

I’m exhausted. It was so nice to see Jack at the wedding. He stayed until Bronwyn and I went into the house, stating that he wanted to make sure we got inside alright. I can’t believe Mom actually thought to invite him.

Staring into my room, I sigh as I gaze at the pink wallpaper. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the color, it’s just not my favorite. My wardrobe is filled with pastels that also wash me out, and I wonder if my mother secretly hates me. That’s the only reason I can imagine why she’d do this.

Sighing, I walk inside and shut the door behind me as I toss my heels to the side. Ugh, I never want to wear those shoes again. Biting my lip, I lock the door, because I’m not comfortable in this big house yet.

The party is still raging on, but Bee and I are tired and done. I hope she doesn’t mind if I slip up and call her that because it’s cute and suits her.

I think I like her. I’m excited to call her my friend, and she said that the high school we’re going to has decent people in it. Everyone tends to go to the same private schools here as they grow up, so they’re all tight. I hope I don’t stick out too much.

Making sure the curtains are drawn, I pull down the zipper on my dress, breathing a sigh of relief as I get out of the tiered monstrosity of lace and tulle. While it wasn’t as hot as some nights, I’m still glad to be out of it.

Hanging it up as I stick my tongue out at it, I look down at myself with a frown. I feel as if I look like a beanpole, and my side is now beginning to turn black and blue where Mom pinched me.

While I’ve been getting my period monthly, my body hasn’t developed or changed in any other way. Bee has curves and breasts, which gives me a twinge of jealousy.

“I refuse to be jealous of my friend for something she can’t control,” I grumble as I stop into the bathroom. It’s nice to have an en-suite, because I don’t want to dash across the hall in a house this size.

Bee’s soft where I’m bony, and even though she’s short, it doesn’t seem to bother her. She has a confidence I haven’t seemed to be able to master.

Turning on the water, I pull all the pins out of my hair, groaning softly as the pressure of them against my scalp releases.

As my brown curls drop down my back, I pull off the training bra and panties. My eyes drop to the pretty necklace Jack bought me that looks like the flower I’m named after. It’s the only present I got for my birthday, which makes it incredibly special.

Making sure to take it off, I lay it out on the vanity so I can make sure it’s safe. Stepping into the shower, I think about how fun it was to dance with Bee tonight, and how I was able to avoid my mother for most of the night.

I feel little bubbles of joy just being around her, and I’ve never felt anything like that before.

At school, I didn’t pay much attention to the kids there, and I didn’t feel attracted to any of them either. Girls or boys.

Ummm. This is bad, right?

I don’t know how to handle this. I guess I’m going to need to see where it goes, even though she’s my stepsister now. My hair takes a while to detangle, condition, and then shampoo, so I continue to obsess and worry.

I don’t have anything else to do, right?

I’ve been trying to learn how to better take care of my curls by looking up videos, but it’s been a long process since Mom is constantly straightening her hair and I’ve never been taught.

Finally done after washing my body clean, my stomach gurgles with hunger as I dry myself off. Ugh, how much do I want to try to find the kitchen right now?

I didn’t eat very much tonight because my dress felt as if it was suffocating me at times. I also was too busy having a good time to want to eat the fancy dinner they served.

Drying off, I wrap my body in my towel as I scrunch my hair to get the excess water out of it with a smaller, soft towel. I’ve learned to sleep on a silk pillowcase to attempt to keep my curls from freaking out, but it doesn’t always work.

Wrinkling my nose, I pull out a pair of sleep shorts and T-shirt from my dresser. It may be the only thing not pink in this room as well, though the clothes have not gone unscathed by the pastel gremlin.

Grimacing, I get dressed, refusing to wear panties tonight. The shorts hit my legs mid-thigh, so I’m not showing anything off that I wouldn’t normally.

My stomach growls again, cramping angrily, making me groan as I toss my towels into the hamper.

“Fine, fine,” I mutter. I’ll try to find the damn kitchen, but if I fail, I’m done.

Looking around the blinds, I see the backyard is dark, and the last of the party guests are leaving. It should be safe to wander now. It’s after midnight already. Honestly, that’s hard for me to believe, but it’s been a busy night.

Dropping the blinds back into place, I walk across the room with bare feet to unlock the door and peek out.

My mom will be annoyed that I’m not wearing socks, because she thinks that walking barefoot is bad for you and uncouth, but fuck it. My calves ache from wearing heels for so long.

Touching my neck, I dash to the bathroom to put my necklace back on, terrified I’ll lose it. If I’m wearing it, I’ll be able to keep it safe, right?

Slipping out the door, I realize I don’t even know where Bee’s room is. I’m going to need to ask her to draw me a map later. I don’t care how silly it is, I need to know the basics of this house.

Blowing out a breath quietly, I try to remember how to get to the main staircase. Bee walked me to my room before walking around the corner, so I at least think she’s nearby.

Thankfully, I find the main staircase, and hope that if I take a right at the bottom of it and walk toward the back of the house that I’ll be able to find it.

“I found it,” I whisper as I step into the state of the art kitchen. Gareth employs a chef to take care of major meals and snacks, and his name is Holland. The man makes really good food. I can only hope there’s a quick snack I can grab that’ll settle my hungry tummy.

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness easily, which helps me not to walk into anything as I move toward the fridge. Opening allows me to find some pasta salad in perfectly portioned sizes, and I check to make sure there’s not a note on it.

When Holland introduced himself to me, he explained that I was welcome to anything in the kitchen, as long as it wasn’t earmarked for a particular meal.

Fist pumping when I see the note above it says Grab and Go , I snag a container happily. A light turns on unexpectedly, making me gasp as I whirl around to see who is there.

“Why are you in the dark? I thought one of the guests took a wrong turn,” Gareth says, leaning against the wall as he gazes at me in amusement.

I haven’t spent much time around my new stepfather because he’s at work a lot. Smiling uncertainly, I shrug as if to say, “surprise, not an intruder.” Closing the fridge door, I move to hunt down a fork.

“I was so busy dancing, I burned off any food I ate earlier,” I explain, slowly opening drawer after drawer.

“Are you looking for a utensil?” he asks, moving around me to open the drawer to my right. Gareth is wearing a long-sleeved shirt and suspenders, having taken off his fancy jacket earlier because of the heat.

I don’t know why, but my skin crawls to have him this close to me.

Fingers shaking, I take the fork from him as I nod.

“Thank you,” I whisper. My stomach pitches forward as if I’m going to be sick, and I swallow hard. I don’t know why I feel like this, but my body is clearly warning me of something.

“You have such pretty hair,” Gareth murmurs as he runs his finger over a curl. I’m pressed up against the island in an attempt not to touch him, anxiety making it hard to breathe as I pant with fear. “I don’t know why your mother straightens her hair.”

“She doesn’t like her curls,” I rasp, my voice not sounding at all like me.

“Such a pity,” he says softly, burying his face in my neck, next to Jack’s present.

That’s too much for me, and I drop my fork, the food long forgotten as I dart away. Gareth barely moves as his hand snatches my hair, pulling me slowly back as I shriek.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” my new stepfather says with a quiet chuckle. “I saw how you acted around Jack. You obviously like older men. Is this little trinket from him? You’re a little cock tease, aren’t you?”

“Me? Jack? No, no,” I whimper, not understanding what he means. Is he saying I did something in exchange for this present? “He’s my dad’s best friend. Jack has always been in my life, and he moved here recently.”

I hope that knowing Jack is nearby will save me from whatever this is. There are black spots crawling over my vision, and I can’t breathe. Fuck, why can’t I just force my lungs to do their only job?!

“Hmm,” Gareth grunts, wrapping my hair in his fist and yanking me, so my back is against his chest. The point of a knife is against my neck so quickly it makes my head spin even more, and I’m glad I can’t breathe. There’s something hard against my ass, but I can’t understand it.

He’s my stepfather. He’s supposed to want my mom. What is happening?!

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill them and make you watch, little girl,” he says nonchalantly. He’s talked like this about his work with Mom before. It’s as if he’s not attached to the words, and I realize this is what disassociation looks like.

“Okay,” I gasp, tears pooling in my eyes. This house isn’t a chance for a new life. It’s a fucking tomb. I was better off in that apartment alone. People can’t hurt me if they’re not around.

“Glad we could have this little chat, stepdaughter,” Gareth says, wrapping his hand around the chain and snapping it off me before releasing me and tossing the knife to the side. “Don't you want your snack anymore?”

“No, thank you,” I whisper, my feet already moving away. He could throw the knife at me, but I feel as if there’s a slim possibility he will. Wrapping my arm around my waist, I force myself to remember the turns I took to get to the kitchen so I can make it to my room before I puke everything I’ve had to eat today.

Grateful is an understatement when my brain doesn’t fail me, and I shut myself back into my room and lock the door. Racing to the bathroom, I spend most of the night throwing up and sobbing.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. My stepfather is a sick man, and he officially has control over my life. God, what did I do to deserve this?