Chapter 8
8
EVELYN
W alking back to my dorm after the dean dished out his punishment, I convinced myself it was all a misunderstanding. Or a bluff. Or a test? Yeah, that had to be it. The dean was testing whether I could stand up for myself. Or something.
Whatever the reason, I convinced myself there was just no way he would actually make me move into a house with five strange men. It was beyond absurd. So I made no effort to pack my room up when I got back, instead opting to call Mitchell. He didn’t answer, but I left a voicemail, then settled at my desk to work on my Economics of Crime assignment.
Living with Ethan or not, I was still determined to be the best and brightest student in his class.
An hour later, my phone vibrated and I gusted out a sigh of relief to see Mitchell’s number on the screen.
“Hey, Uncle Mitch,” I greeted him when I‘d accepted the call. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your work?”
Mitchell and Karolyn both worked at an auction house. Mitch was an auctioneer and could talk faster than anyone I’d ever met, and Karolyn handled customer service .
“No, you’re fine. What’s up? How’s Meadowridge? Is everything… Are you safe ?” The edge of worry in his voice answered the question I’d been calling to ask.
I swallowed back the bitter disappointment. “I’m safe,” I confirmed. “I’m guessing they haven’t made any progress?” He knew what I was asking. The cops had an open case to search for the man who’d opened fire in my previous school—the man who’d shot me in the back as I ran in terror. They had no leads, though. After I was shot, it was all a blur. I had no clue how I’d survived or how I’d ended up being dropped off at the Emergency Department before I could drown in my own blood, but the gunman had disappeared without a trace.
Since waking up in ICU, I’d been perpetually scared he’d come back and finish the job but at Meadowridge…it was different. I wasn’t looking over my shoulder constantly.
“I’m sorry, duckling,” Mitch replied with a sigh. “They’ve gotten no further in finding the guy. Not even a name.” Let alone a motive .
I nodded silently, even though he couldn’t see me. “Okay,” I murmured. “I guess…I’m safe here.”
“Nowhere safer in the whole country, kid. I’d better go, but Karo sends her love.” He ended the call before I could even reply, and I slowly blinked at the blank screen of my phone. So much for that idea…whatever that idea had even been. Running…escaping. My usual MO.
A sharp knock at my door made me snap out of my melancholy, and I stood from my desk to respond. I assumed it was Nina, come to explain what the hell she’d been thinking with slamming Laura’s face into the table, but then again she never could have guessed I’d take the blame.
It wasn’t Nina at my door though.
“Brodie,” I said with a frown. “What are you doing here?”
The gorgeous blond actor just grinned with all those perfect, movie-star teeth. “Came to help you move, Evie babe. Seemed like the decent thing to do, since you’re copping heat for a fight you had nothing to do with.”
My lips parted in shock. “You believe me? I didn’t touch Laura!” Not that she hadn’t been asking for it with all her snide comments and dirty looks my way.
Brodie shrugged. “Yeah, I believe you. You don’t seem like the kinda chick to hit from behind.”
“So why didn’t you say anything?” I demanded, planting my hands on my hips.
Another grin. “I’m in enough shit with the dean already. The last thing I needed was to draw more attention. Besides, as far as punishments go, this one is not the worst. Sure, Bluebell House is crappy and busted, but it also means we don’t have a curfew and literally get a million times more privacy than these dorm buildings, where the walls are paper thin and everyone knows your business.” Across the hall, a door slammed shut awfully quickly and Brodie rolled his eyes. “Case in point. Are you letting me come in or what?”
Largely because he still had me crazy starstruck, I moved aside and let him enter my room before shutting the door behind him. I guess when he framed it like that, I wouldn’t hate the privacy…especially if?—
“Why do you think there’s no curfew? We’d literally have a teacher living in the house with us.”
Brodie snickered. “Ethan totally doesn’t count. You don’t really look packed. Dean expects us all to move in this afternoon, you know?”
“I…um…I didn’t really think he was going to force us to move. Is he? I figured…” I trailed off, seeing his bemused expression.
“Evie babe…Dean Attworth doesn’t bluff. And he really doesn’t like having his orders ignored. Come on, I’ll help.” He crossed to my wardrobe and pulled out my empty suitcases, making himself right at home as he laid them out on the floor .
Speechless and still seriously starstruck, I just silently did as I was told.
An hour later, Brodie carried my suitcases up the weathered wooden steps of a house that had a pretty name but the rest of it could only ever be described one way: haunted . If it wasn’t for the trailing bluebell flowers that filled the two gardens on either side of the entrance, there’d have been nothing appealing at all about this old house.
“This is where we have to live?” I squeaked, my palms already sweating as I cautiously followed him through the front door. “It seems…um…”
“Like there’s skeletons plastered up in the walls? I know, right?” Brodie agreed with an unhinged laugh. “I’m literally never going to fall asleep here. Acting in The Phantoms as a kid totally fucked me up and now I see ghosts everywhere.”
I loved that movie .
Brodie had only been six or seven when he starred as the lead character who could speak with the dead and the CGI effects had been intense . Some of the best jump scares I’d ever experienced. So yeah, I could see how that might fuck up a kid’s imagination for sure.
“Evie’s here!” Brodie yelled out into the house, his own voice bouncing back at him ominously. No one responded, though, so he shrugged and set my bags beside the staircase. “I think there’s an empty room upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you.”
If I squinted, I could imagine Bluebell House used to be a regal home. The wooden banister was finished with decorative flourishes and the well-worn steps were of solid construction. Graffiti decorated the walls as we ascended, though, and I wrinkled my nose at the musty, old cat urine sort of smell.
“Dean Attworth said he’d send the cleaning crew over this evening,” Brodie called over his shoulder, reading my mind. “It’s been empty for a while…”
“No shit,” I murmured. “What about furniture?” Because he’d just opened the door to a huge but entirely empty room. In fairness, it was more than double the size of my dorm room and had the most amazing bay window looking out into the woods behind the college but…nowhere to sleep.
“Also being delivered this evening,” Brodie assured me. “Do you like this room? Or I can show you some of the other available spaces if this?—”
“No, this is fine,” I quickly assured him. “We won’t be here for long, right? Just…until Connor and Andrew make nice?”
Brodie rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. Right. Anyway, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”
He spent some time showing me around, and by the time he was done, the furniture had started arriving. I breathed a small sigh of relief to see the truck unloading bedframes and mattresses first.
I thanked him for the tour, then grabbed an armful of cleaning supplies that I’d seen in the kitchen. The cleaning crew had a big enough job as it was, I could handle doing my own room.
An hour later my room was as clean as I could make it, and I was hard at work on the shared bathroom farther down the hall when I heard the telltale sounds of more people arriving. I considered going downstairs and making nice, but anger and resentment stopped me. It was their fault I had been dragged into this strange and unusual punishment.
“You know we have a whole cleaning crew here, right?” Andrew asked, startling me as I scrubbed the base of the shower on my hands and knees.
Biting back my urge to curse him out—because he was still President Kingsbridge’s son—I settled on a frosty glare over my shoulder. “I’m aware. But they’ll be here until morning if we don’t pitch in and help. Or were you unaware how disgusting this place was? ”
His pursed lips and pinched brow as he looked around said he’d definitely noticed. “You’re strange, Evelyn.”
“And you’re a spineless prick, but you don’t see me pointing out facts,” I muttered under my breath, turning back to the scrubbing and hoping he hadn’t heard me.
The shocked laugh he let out said otherwise and I winced. “Fair call, Evelyn. Do you have any allergies? I’m having my people pick up dinner for everyone in town. Maybe Thai food?”
That was…nice of him. I thought these guys all hated each other?
“I eat anything,” I replied, confused by the offer after I just insulted him. “Not fussy.”
Andrew didn’t respond immediately and I found myself glancing over my shoulder to see if he was still there. He was, and he was staring at my ass.
Wait. No, maybe he was staring at the mold on the shower curtain which was destined for the trash. That made more sense.
“Okay, I’ll order a selection to share in that case,” he finally murmured, his brow furrowing as he shifted his gaze around the bathroom. “We just can’t order anything with shellfish because Connor is allergic.”
“That’s fine, like I said…I’ll eat anything.” I meant it, too. I was yet to find a food I strongly disliked, which made it easy for me at restaurants.
Andrew nodded, then left me to my cleaning. It wasn’t until after he was gone that I paused my scrubbing and frowned. Why the fuck would Andrew know Connor’s allergies?
More to the point, why would he care ?
This day was officially weird as shit. Maybe the cleaning fumes were messing with my head or something. Yeah. That must be it.