Chapter 13 #2
“My mom was an art collector, and I remember finger-painting over a piece in the hallway once.” I chuckle, knowing what’s coming.
“Turns out, it was a Pavlov original that I had decorated with little fingerprints.” I pause, imagining Gus bursting out into laughter.
“She was so mad at first. But eventually, she told everyone it was her favorite, most cherished piece. It may be worth nothing on the market now, but it was priceless to her for an entirely different reason.”
I can’t seem to stop spilling memories to Gus, the words flowing from my lips like vomit. One after another, until my skin starts turning pink from the sun, and by the time I finish, my cheeks are damp from the happy recollection.
I pat them away, and the warmth of the sun does the rest to dry them. Thank God for waterproof mascara, or I would look a hot mess right now.
“All right, buddy., Let’s just swing by the shop on the way home and get the wicked witch’s fabric.” Standing to my feet, I take a slow, deep breath, studying the house once more before turning and striding away.
But I spin back and decide to do one more thing, pulling my phone out and snapping a picture before going on my way.
This part of town may not be the most wealthy or luxurious. But it’s full of the best people. At least once upon a time, it was.
As Gus and I check the first mile off our trek, clouds shift again, giving us some nice shade. With my eyes no longer straining, I can really take in the gorgeous walk.
One thing about Evermore is that it’s full of trees. Oak and pine and willows. Landscaping is always stunning and lush. It’s the most beautiful place in the world, and I’d never want to be anywhere else.
A golden retriever turns on the corner up ahead, heading toward us with the biggest grin. I glance at the people walking with it, instantly recognizing two girls from campus from when I saw them walking with Dean, Asher, and their friends.
I think the girls are dating guys on the team, or maybe they’re siblings. I’m not sure.
The golden angel struts on the sidewalk, the light yellow tail swooshing, her mouth open and smiling.
“I love your dog,” I call out, my voice easily carrying the ten feet to them.
The blonde girl, holding the leash, smiles at me. “Thanks. This is Sunny. She’s the best girl.”
An itch appears in the back of my mind at the sound of the girl’s voice, but I just can’t quite place it.
Sunny glances up at her owner before facing me.
The blonde girl’s eyes search me, and I suddenly become incredibly self-conscious.
Oh God, is my top too tight? Jeans too flashy? Maybe I shouldn’t have curled my hair and pinned half back. I should’ve worn it all up in a ponytail.
“I’m obsessed with your outfit. Where did you get those jeans?” She gasps, the three of them coming to a stop in front of me.
“Oh.” My anxiety starts to calm ever so slightly. “Umm …” I shake the chaos from my mind. “I made them. Same with my top.”
Her eyes widen, and her smile tips up even more. “You’re joking. They’re incredible!”
My shoulders soften. “Thank you so much.”
“Do you have a shop in town here? Or a website?” she insists, her dog padding closer to me.
Gus buries himself deeper in my bag as I crouch down to give Sunny a couple of pets. She sits immediately, tipping her head up, and I cup her face and brush her silky, soft cheeks.
“I don’t, no. Hopefully, one day, but right now, I just make stuff for myself,” I tell her, embarrassment skating across my back.
They look so put together and—
I finally put my finger on why I thought she looked familiar.
She’s Alora Briarwood.
I remember seeing the articles about her family and what she’s gone through. She’s resilient and, a powerhouse, turning her family’s multimillion-dollar businesses into an even more successful conglomerate.
She digs her phone out of her bag. “Would you consider doing custom work at all?”
“Uhh, uhh … y-yeah. I’d be honored to!” A smile takes over my face, and I right myself, adjusting the bag on my chest.
“Perfect. What’s your number? I’ll text you details about what I’m kind of looking for, and we can go from there.” She looks at me, waiting for my response, but I’m in shock.
I hastily shake the stupor. “Yeah. That’d be great.”
I give her my number, and she immediately shoots me a message.
Unknown: This is Alora! So excited to work with you!
Beaming, I quickly save her Contact. “Got it. Send me the details, and I’ll sketch some pieces up!”
“You’re amazing,” she cheers. “Can’t wait. Blair, should we get you something made?”
Blair waves her hands. “Oh, no, I don’t need anything!”
Alora butts in with a wink, “We’ll do something for her too.”
“Okay.” I chuckle.
Alora takes a step forward. “We’d better get going. But it was so nice meeting you …”
“Cirella. Cirella Ch—” I stop myself, almost using my real last name. “Matthews.”
“Cirella Matthews.” She smiles. “Have a good day!”
They walk off, and my body moves forward all by itself. There’s no way that really just happened.
I’m going to be doing custom work for someone!
“Gus! Can you believe it?” I squeal once we’re out of earshot. “Best day ever.”
We stop by the fabric shop on the way back, collecting material for Adrianna’s dress and window-shopping for all the prints and expensive textiles I want to get one day.
My stepmom must sense happiness in the air because she’s waiting in my room when I return, sitting on my bed with a bag in her lap and her cat at her feet. Gus sinks deeper into my pocket, and I hold my breath, hoping she didn’t see him.
“Hi,” I greet her.
The hairs on my arms stand up, and my throat tightens—my body’s natural response to being in her presence.
“Hi.” She mocks me. “Where have you been?”
“I-I had class,” I lie, weight pushing down on my chest. I lift the bag from the fabric store in my hand. “Then I stopped to get fabric for your garments.”
She squints at me. “Really? Did you go anywhere else?”
When she stands to her feet, I stutter-step backward.
Slowly, I shake my head, not wanting to tell her I went by my parents’ house. She doesn’t like when I go there without permission—or do anything without her permission—which is exactly what she denied me of this morning. But I went against her wishes and did it anyway.
She frowns, but amusement lingers in her eyes. Digging her phone out of her pocket, she presses a few buttons, then turns the screen to me.
My stomach falls through the floor when I see the security camera footage, and terror rips through me. “Y-you installed cameras at the house?”
She scoffs, like I have no reason to be upset with her, “At my house, which I own? Yes, I did. And you”—she takes a step closer to me, and my body tenses—“lied”—another step—“to”—she’s only three feet away now—“me.”
My back is nearly against the door when she takes one more step. She reaches out and grabs my throat, her nails sinking into my skin as she towers over me.
“How dare you, you child?! It seems this recent freedom has made you forget who you are. Ash in the fireplace. Worthless trash. The only thing you’ve ever been good for is complicating my life. I’ve kept you housed, fed, nurtured, and this is how you repay me?”
Her grip tightens, and real fear strikes my core.
I fight to get the words out past the sting. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have gone! I’m sorry!”
Tears well in my eyes, and the bag of fabric in my hand falls to the floor as my throat catches on fire. Gus stays tucked away, and I keep enough distance between her and me so that he doesn’t get squished.
This isn’t the first time her hand has met my throat. But it’s never been accompanied by this crazy look in her eye. The combination is horrifying.
“Whose house is it?” she spits.
I can barely breathe, and my head starts to pound intensely. “Y-yours.”
“That’s right. It’s my house. You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested for trespassing,” she sneers, pure hatred in her gaze.
She tightens her grip, and I try to cough, but it gets lost somewhere along the way.
“P-please,” I beg, terror taking over.
She wouldn’t really hurt me, right? I mean, she still raised me for years. She couldn’t do that. Some part of her deep down must care for me.
My vision starts to spot, and she releases me suddenly, pushing me back into the door. I reach for the handle for stability and grab my neck with my other hand, gasping for air.
She stands back, smirking. “You know, I was going to give you a gift today, something I know you’ve been excited to see again. You had done such a decent job with my engagement party dress.”
Reaching into the bag, she pulls something out, and the first glimmer of blue and yellow glass I see makes my stomach churn.
It’s a piece my mom had, one of her favorites. Glass tulips in a bouquet.
“But then you pulled a stunt like this. Blatantly disrespecting me after all I’ve done for you over the years.
” She drops her bag to the ground and turns the glass flowers over and over in her hand.
“Clearly, I haven’t punished you enough lately.
Let this be a reminder of what happens when you lie to me. ”
I hold my breath, and I swear time slows down completely as she lifts her hands above her head. A smile stretches across her lips, one of malice and cruelty.
“I figured seeing one break in person rather than a still picture of the fragments in that house may do you some good.” She opens her hands, letting the tulips slip between them and plummet straight down to the hard floor below.
“No!” I shout, reaching for them.
But it’s too late.
I crash to my knees, not feeling the pain, at the same time the beautiful glass art explodes into a thousand little pieces, my heart along with it.
My stare is blurry, struggling to focus on nothing and everything at the same time. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. The walls around me are closing in.
I want to scream at her, hit her like she has hit me a thousand times over … but I can’t, not while she still has the deed and keys to the house. I can’t. I won’t let her take anything else from my parents or me.
Glancing up at her, I find her smug smirk as she says, “Be a good girl, Cirella. Or I’ll have to make another visit.”
Stepping over me like I’m a bug on the ground, she strolls from the room, whistling a tune with Duke right on her heels.
Gus pokes his head up, and I wipe my tears, not wanting to worry him. “It’s okay, buddy. They’re gone.”
I need to keep my head down, do what she asks, and secure the safety of everything in that home. The house itself is important to me, but not as much as what’s inside.
The pictures, the art, collectibles, and glass work my mom dedicated her life to. Everything. That’s what I’m working so hard to protect.
Visiting the place one time ended up like this. I can’t imagine what she’d do if she found out I’d been secretly seeing Dean and Asher.
She’d probably tear my parents’ place to the ground with me inside of it.