Chapter 4
The night before (doesn’t count)
I want to believe in the fairy tale.
—Fable Maguire
Drew
As I drive my truck down the long winding driveway, the house comes into view, every single window blazing with light. There are about a bazillion windows, the house is so damn big, and it’s making a grand impression. Worry slams into me and I wonder if they’re home after all.
I’d hoped to avoid them until morning.
The tension coming off Fable is obvious. Reality’s hitting, I guess. It’s happening to me, too. That I have to go into that house and face my demons. Totally dramatic and I sound like a chick, but shit, it’s the truth.
“Your house is huge,” she murmurs.
“Yeah.” I hate it. Losing my sister…the most momentously awful thing in the whole world that ever happened in my life happened here. Even though she died almost exactly two years ago, it still feels like yesterday.
Deep in my heart, I know her death was my fault. And Adele’s. This is one of the many reasons why I don’t want to be here.
“And it’s right by the ocean.” Fable sounds wistful. “I love the ocean. I rarely get to go.”
“There’s stairs right off our back deck that’ll take you straight to the beach,” I say, trying to give her something to look forward to.
The smile she flashes me eases me somewhat, but not much.
This isn’t going to be a comfortable visit.
I was fooling myself, thinking Fable would make it easy.
Her presence will make it a little less stressful, but there’s still tension and anger and sadness, too many emotions wrapped up in this place, this time of year.
By the time we leave, she’s probably going to think I’m completely crazy.
Will she tell anyone about me? I didn’t even think of that. Proving once again that I didn’t think this plan through thoroughly enough. Everything’s going to bite me in the ass in the end. I can feel it. I can’t trust anyone.
No one. Definitely not this girl sitting next to me, chewing on her index finger as if she’s going to gnaw it to the bone. She’s nervous, but she’s got nothing on me.
My palms are sweating and I feel like I’m going to throw up. It’s one thing to see my parents when we go on vacation. It’s another thing entirely when I’m coming home and have to face the realities of what happened inside our house. Last time I was here was almost exactly two years ago.
“Are you okay?” Fable’s voice breaks the silence and it’s full of concern. “You’re breathing funny.”
Great. “I’m fine,” I say on an exhale, desperate to keep my shit together.
I pull my truck in front of the closed garage and cut the engine, letting the quiet envelop me for a second.
I can hear Fable’s soft, even breathing and the quiet tick of the engine, and the scent of her perfume, her shampoo, whatever it is, lingers in the air.
It’s light, a little sweet, like vanilla or chocolate, I can’t tell, and it doesn’t fit the tough-girl persona she projects.
She’s a contradiction, and I want to figure her out.
“Listen. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a feeling this is going to be difficult for you.
Am I right?” She settles her hand over mine on the steering wheel, the tips of her tiny fingers smoothing along my knuckles.
I flinch at her touch but she doesn’t move.
I’m shocked that she’s actually reaching out and trying to reassure me.
Nodding, I swallow hard and try to muster up a few words, but nothing comes out.
“I have a fucked-up family, too.” Her quiet voice reaches inside of me and instantly calms my nerves. Her easy acceptance is unexpected.
“Doesn’t everyone?” I’m trying to joke, but most of the time I believe I’m alone with the madness. No one’s family is as fucked-up as mine.
“I don’t think so. Shit, I don’t know.” She smiles, and it eases over my heart as I stare at her.
“Just…remember to breathe, okay? I know you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong with you, or why you hate your family so much, but I get it.
I totally get it, and if you need to get away from them, even for five minutes, I’ll help you.
We should have a code word or something. ”
I frown. “A code word?”
“Yeah.” She nods and her eyes light up. Like she’s really getting into this. “For example, say your dad is being an asshole, asking you what you want to do with your life, and you can’t take it any longer. Just say ‘marshmallow’ and I’ll interrupt him and pull you out of there.”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Marshmallow?”
“Totally random, right? It makes no sense. That’s what makes it better.” Her smile grows, and so does mine.
“What if you’re not around?” I have a feeling I’ll never let her out of my sight, but I know that’s impossible.
“Text me ‘marshmallow.’ Wherever I’m at, I’ll come running.”
“You’d really do that for me?”
Her eyes meet mine, and they’re glowing, they’re so bright. And pretty. Fuck, she’s really pretty. Why didn’t I realize this before? I’m attracted to her, and I’m attracted to no one. “I’m totally willing to do the job you paid me for.”
The warm fuzzies are doused with a bucket of ice-cold water at her words. A brutal reminder that what we’re doing, this fake relationship we’re taking part in, is nothing but a job for her. “You’re right.”
Stupid me. I was hoping she’d rescue me because she wanted to.
Fable
This house is as big as a museum and just as cold.
It’s beautiful, quiet, and immaculate, with a hushed quality to it that truthfully scares me to death.
The door clicks shut behind us with a finality that sends a chill down my spine, and I follow Drew down a wide hall covered with various family photos I plan on studying later.
I hear voices coming from the room at the end of the short hall and then we’re there.
In a giant living room with an entire wall of windows that overlooks the ocean.
I can see the white-capped waves from beyond the glass, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
Drew doesn’t even notice it. He’s too focused on the two people sitting on the couch, both of them drawing their long, thin bodies from the plush dark-brown velvet and approaching us with quick steps.
Nerves eat at my stomach and all of a sudden my hand is clasped in Drew’s, our fingers interlocking. The show of affection startles me for a moment, but then I remember.
I’m his girlfriend. I’m playing a role and so is he, and we’re doing it for these very people who are now standing in front of us with expectant looks on their faces.
“Andrew. It’s so good to see you. You look positively delicious.” The stepmother says this and I find the compliment odd. Who calls her stepson “delicious”?
Drew doesn’t like it either, I can tell.
He lets go of my hand and slips his arm around my shoulders, hauling me in close to him.
I collide against a warm, solid body and tingles wash over me.
He’s as hard as a rock, and I have no choice but to slip my arm around his waist and cling to him for dear life. Not that I’m protesting.
This is all a diversion to avoid his stepmom’s hug.
She has her arms out and everything but she drops them to her side, the pouting disappointment on her beautiful face clear.
And when I say beautiful, I mean stunningly gorgeous.
Her near-black hair is long and straight, hanging almost to her waist. Her cheekbones are sharp, her skin a warm olive color, and her eyes are espresso dark.
She towers over me, and with her slender build I can’t help but wonder if she was once a model.
“Is this your little Fable?” Her condescending voice sets me on edge and I stiffen my spine. Drew spreads his hand wide across the small of my back, his fingers pressing into me, and his touch is reassuring.
“Yes, I’m Fable. It’s nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out and she shakes it with a disdain that’s palpable, dropping my hand quickly as if it’s covered in shit.
What’s this bitch’s problem?
“Fable, this is Adele,” Drew introduces us grimly. “Adele, this is my girlfriend.”
He puts extra emphasis on the word girlfriend, and a flicker of disgust shines in Adele’s eyes. As soon as it’s there, it’s gone.
“Drew.” The man standing at Adele’s side is like an older version of my so-called boyfriend and I’m impressed. Drew is going to be killer handsome when he’s in his forties or fifties if he ends up looking like his dad.
Something that’s close to affection crosses Drew’s face and he lets go of me to briefly hug his father.
But just as quickly as he lets me go, he has me again, his strong arm wrapped around my waist and his fingers resting at my hip.
It’s a very possessive grip, one that I can’t help but find all sorts of hot, and I need to remind myself that this is fake.
Drew doesn’t want a girlfriend. He doesn’t seem to like girls. Makes me wonder if he plays for the other team.
I shoot a glance in his direction, drink in all that dark hair and those intense blue eyes fringed with thick eyelashes. Such a shame if it’s true. What a loss for us girls!
“Dad, this is Fable. My girlfriend,” Drew says again, and this time my hand is shaken warmly, though the assessing gaze his father settles upon me makes me slightly uncomfortable.
I’m being judged and I know it. I’m used to that sort of thing when I’m at work because hey, guys check me out. It comes with the barmaid job.
But this older man is contemplating me in a way that’s discomforting. It makes me want to squirm and get the hell out of here.
“How was your trip?” Drew’s dad asks once he finally tears his eyes away from me. I almost sag with relief.
“Easy drive.” Drew pauses for a moment. “I thought you two were going to be out tonight.”
“Adele decided she wasn’t feeling up to another country club get-together,” his dad explains.