Chapter 25
Last night was a lot. Both emotionally draining and invigorating for very different reasons.
I tried staying up as late as I could, but I was passed out by the time Dean and Asher got done talking with their father.
When I wake up this morning, I’m wrapped up in both of them—Asher behind me and Dean in front. Like a loving Kensington sandwich.
Gus finds his own spot in the cuddle puddle by curling up on Dean’s pillow. And thanks to Dean’s added litter box for him in the en suite, Gus has easy access to his water and toilet if he should need it.
Everett’s out of the house by the time we get up and moving. Maria tells Dean that he had meetings all morning across town but would be back in time for lunch.
I run down to my room quickly to change and give Jules a hug before we head out on a very important mission. The guys told me they want to take me somewhere special, and if my intuition is correct, I know where we’re going.
“Have fun!” she shouts at me as I race back into the main house, heading to the front door to meet the guys.
Both of them are on their bikes when I get outside.
Asher somehow looks hotter than ever in a Legends hockey hoodie, and Dean’s wearing a T-shirt, his arms crossed over his chest, drawing the fabric taut over his bulging muscles.
Both of them are wearing joggers and tennis shoes.
I’m a second from saying screw it so we can head back up to their rooms.
I may not be decked out in Legends gear, instead opting for a lavender hoodie and leggings, paired with my cute lace-accented brown combat boots. My hair is still wavy from yesterday, and with a little dry shampoo and a couple of corrected curls, it looks as fresh as ever.
I trot down the stairs, excited to see them, as if we’d been apart for days, not minutes. Dean lifts his hand as I approach, exposing the key rings and dangling keys.
“What are those for?” I ask.
He picks one out of the group. “This one is for our front door, even though I doubt you’ll ever need it.” He switches to a different key, holding up a fob. “This one is to your new chariot in the garage.”
Stop.
“And this one … is to your parents’ house, where we’re going right now.”
My breath catches. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
He thrusts the keys forward, and I take them, storing them in my crossbody purse and zipping it shut, securing the small latch I sewed on so it doesn’t come undone on the bike.
“Thank you,” I exhale, leaning forward and kissing the front of his helmet.
“Uh-uh.” He scoffs, tearing the helmet from his head and slipping an arm around my waist, yanking me back toward him. “Come here.”
His lips collide with mine, fervent and intense. The tip of his tongue parts my lips, and I grant him access. I get lost in our kiss, which deepens and heats up. The world melts away as he gets his fill and I happily get mine.
Asher playfully clears his throat—being a brat, like always, as if I’m not going to kiss him too.
With his visor up on his helmet, he lifts something from the other side of his bike—a pastel blue helmet that matches their black ones. “Your crown, Princess.”
I smile, giddily rushing over and taking it from him. “Oh my God! It’s perfect.”
Slipping it over my hair, I secure it in place, and Asher makes fast work of securing the strap under my chin before patting my head.
“Hop on.” He winks at me. “It’s only fair since Dean got to shove his tongue down your throat.”
Chuckling, I slide onto the back of his bike, wrapping my arms around his firm waist.
Turning his head, he smirks. “Don’t worry. I plan on shoving my tongue in all kinds of places tonight.”
Once again, I find myself thankful for the helmet for hiding my blush. Although, at this point, I have no shame in the way I feel for them. I don’t need to hide anything from them.
“Should we race?” Asher laughs, revving the engine of his Ducati.
I squeal, squeezing him tighter. “No!”
“Oh, come on, Princess. Live a little.” He laughs.
“Let’s go!” Dean puts his helmet on and takes off, leading us around the curve of the driveway and toward the gate.
The wind cuts through my sweatshirt as we pull onto the main roads, after waving at Roy, who I also owe a lot to for keeping my cover.
I’ve never felt freer than I do right now, racing through Evermore on the back of Asher’s bike, following Dean as we head straight to my parents’ house.
It’s not a long ride there, but I soak up every second, clinging to Asher, feeling the rush of the air, and giggling every time he scoots his butt back into me.
“Hey, Princess, guess what!” Asher shouts into the wind.
“What?” I yell back.
His hand falls to the top of my thigh, squeezing repeatedly before he throws his head back and shouts for the entire world to hear, “I love you!”
A giggle, absurd and free, rips through me, and I take a page out of Asher’s book, yelling into the abyss, “I love you too!”
His hand squeezes my thigh again, and I hope he never lets go.
And he doesn’t, not until we pull into the driveway of my parents’ house a few minutes later.
They kill the engines and help me off, hanging our helmets on the handlebars, and then we walk toward the front door.
Goose bumps break across the tops of my shoulders and arms as I take the keys out of my purse, finding the one for the house. Shakily, I unlock the door, but keep it closed as I take a few steadying breaths, tucking the keys back into my purse.
“Adrianna trashed the place. And I know it might not look like anything special to you guys,” I warn, opening the door, the broken glass covering the floor coming into view, “but it is to me.”
“And it is to us too,” Asher murmurs, letting me take the first step inside, the broken pieces crunching under my boot.
Pictures hanging on the wall are slashed. Photos of my family and artwork my parents collected are all destroyed.
Asher and Dean stay silent at my back as I walk deeper into the house, heading toward my bedroom. But I slam to a halt when we turn down the main hallway from the living room and I see the expensive painting I ruined with paint when I was a kid, the one my mom loved most afterward.
It’s completely intact. Adrianna must’ve thought it was worthless and didn’t even bother harming it. But she couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Oh my God, is that a Pavlov with paint on it?” Dean sounds disgusted, and I can’t help but laugh, knowing his art-loving self is dying inside.
“Sure does. Courtesy of yours truly.” I laugh, tears in my eyes as I lift the frame from the wall, tucking it under my arm.
Dean teases me, “Remind me to never let you near our family vault.”
Turning to him, I look up and smile. “Oh, I’m going to finger-paint the crap out of everything in there.”
He squints. “The hell you are, Princess.”
Asher chuckles. “I’ll fight him for you, baby.”
“Good luck,” Dean challenges, and I roll my eyes, turning and walking farther down the hallway.
Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye—the broken trim on the bathroom door. It happened when my dad and I were playing hide-and-seek, and I tripped, nearly taking the doorframe out with me.
“Oh my God. I almost forgot.”
“What?” Asher asks.
I swear I feel like a little kid as I race down the hallway and into my bedroom, not stopping until I’m standing in my empty closet. I kneel down and feel along the smooth wall for the barely noticeable edge.
There.
I pry it open with my finger, pulling the covering off the small crawl space. I set it on the floor, leaning it against the wall.
I wish more than anything that I could leave him a note or he could leave one for me one last time.
Visions flicker in my mind. Running through the house, playing games with my dad. Staying up all night, watching movies until I passed out on the couch from exhaustion, and he’d carry me into my room, tucking me in, no matter how old I got. Writing notes to one another and hiding them in here.
He was the best dad in the entire world. So was my mom, even if we couldn’t have as much time together. I bet wherever they are, they’re together again, happy and smiling as they watch their little girl take control of her life.
“What is that?” Dean asks, crouching down beside me and staring into the pitch-black space.
“A crawl space,” I tell him, surprised he doesn’t know.
He laughs. “I know what a crawl space is, Ciri.” He fumbles for his phone, turning on the flashlight. “I meant, what is that?”
Whoa, what the heck?
Reaching inside, I stick my arm all the way to the back, grabbing a binder hidden flat against the wall. It blends in almost completely.
I pull it out, opening the cover as Dean shines the flashlight for us to see what’s inside.
“No way,” Asher gasps, leaning closer. “Holy shit.”
“My sweet Cirella,” Dean starts to read the handwritten note taped on the inside cover as the back of my eyes begin to burn, “I leave you everything, my little Ciri. You will be okay. Adrianna has assured me of that. She will be there to help you heal once I’m gone, to lift you up and shape you into the most wonderful young woman. ”
My tears fall as he continues to read, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to stay much longer.
I’ve fought as long as I could. Being your dad is the greatest accomplishment I’ve ever had and the most fulfilling role I’ve ever been blessed with.
I love you more than anything in this world.
Forevermore, your dad, Patrick Chamberlain. ”
My vision is blurry, clouded with emotion. But I blink it away, looking at the next page with the big, bolded words at the top—Last Will and Testament of Patrick Chamberlain.
It was right here, buried in our secret spot, all these years. If I had just looked inside, searched deeper, I would’ve found it. I could’ve freed myself from Adrianna long before now.
But …