Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
The rain has died off, and there wasn’t a single clap of thunder on the drive home.
Madison turns off the engine and I stare at the house through the windshield.
The clouds have rolled in low over the ridge, turning the stone walls a deeper shade of gray, and the ivy looks blacker than usual against the fading afternoon light.
“Okay,” Madison says slowly, leaning forward over the steering wheel. “So this is the house.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It’s very...” She tilts her head. “Gothic.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Madison turns to look at me. “And you live here?”
“For now.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, and the familiar weight of the place presses down on me before I open the car door. “You said you needed to use the bathroom?”
“I mean, I really do,” Madison says, getting out and following me up the gravel path. “And, you know, I can stay if you want to talk about anything. You were so quiet on the drive up here. Well, besides the munching.”
The front door is unlocked, as always. I push it open and step into the foyer.
“Oh, wow.” Madison’s footsteps slow the moment she crosses the threshold. “Okay, so the outside was just a warm-up.”
The chandelier flickers overhead, casting its usual dancing shadows across the tapestries, and the suit of armor stands in its alcove.
“Is that...” Madison whispers.
“It came with the house.”
“Of course it did.” She keeps her voice down instinctively. “Alice, it smells like the eighteenth century.”
“You get used to it.”
I’m about to point her toward the guest bathroom when voices from somewhere deeper in the house cut through the quiet.
Miranda’s voice first, sharp and carrying. Then Ryder’s, lower but just as tense.
My feet stop moving.
Madison bumps into my back. “Sorry. What are we…”
I hold up a hand.
“How could you not hand in that essay?” Miranda’s voice rises and falls as it travels down the hallway. “You had Alice’s help. You should have taken advantage of that.”
“Miranda,” Ryder grunts. “Can we not do this right now?”
“When else are we going to do it? Where’s your head at?”
Madison leans in close to my ear. “Is that Ryder and your aunt?”
I nod, not taking my eyes off the hallway.
“Do you know how many strings I’ve had to pull so you don’t get suspended?” Miranda continues, her voice climbing again. “Do you have any idea of the conversations I’ve had to have with the school? You’re a lot of work, Ryder.”
The huff Ryder makes echoes toward us.
“I’ve organized a make-up essay,” Miranda says. “If you write it and hand it in, you won’t fail. It’s a generous deal, and frankly, it’s more than you deserve.”
“Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“There’s no thinking. You will do it.”
I don’t move. I’m still clasping the bag of chips, and the crinkle of the packet is stupidly loud against the silence of the foyer. I press it against my side to muffle it.
“I can make it without finishing tests and assignments,” Ryder argues. “Kensington basically said on Saturday that the contract is done. Why does any of this matter?”
“Because basically isn’t actually,” Miranda snaps. “And we can’t deal with any more hiccups. I thought you understood that. I thought after everything we’ve worked toward, you understood how critical this window is.”
“I do understand.”
“Then act like it! Kensington wants his son to graduate. That is non-negotiable for him. Chase will follow your lead, which means you need to set the right example. You write the make-up essay, you pass English, Chase follows, Brooks follows, and we don’t give Kensington a single reason to pull back from this deal. ”
This time, it’s his groan that rumbles toward us.
Then footsteps, and not the pacing kind. The purposeful, heading-somewhere kind.
I should move, but my feet disagree.
Madison grabs my elbow. “They’re coming.”
Ryder appears at the end of the hallway, dressed in a tight-fitting black T-shirt and baggy black trousers. He stops when he sees us, lifting his guitar cases higher, which creates more definition in his arm.
Miranda appears a step behind him, her leather planner tucked under one arm and her phone in hand. She pulls up short as well.
The four of us stand in the foyer, and the awkwardness is unbearable.
“I just need to pee,” Madison blurts, breaking the uncomfortableness.
Miranda blinks at her. She sighs, completely devoid of patience, and points down the hallway without looking at us twice. “Second door on the left.”
“Fantastic. Thank you.” Madison presses a quick hand to my arm and disappears.
Ryder watches Madison pass him and then looks back at me as if he’s trying to calculate something. He shifts the position of his guitar case beside him and moves toward me.
“Did you get home okay?”
I frown at him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
He huffs. “I mean, because of the rain. I had to drop the guys at rehearsal, and I didn’t know how you’d be coping.”
Coping? Is he serious right now? He didn’t even take a second look for me before fleeing school grounds. I bite inside my cheek and manage, “Mm-hmm.”
Ryder peers over his shoulder again before turning to me. “Madison said she was driving you home, but I didn’t know… Since when have you and her been friends?”
I fold my arms. “Since when do you care?”
His eyebrows lift, and his free hand plants on his chest. “Since when have I… Really?“ He scoffs, shaking his head. “After everything… Every storm… Nope, not doing this. I can’t with you right now.” He turns to Miranda and grunts. “I’ll be in the car.”
Ryder pushes past me without making eye contact, and the front door closes behind him with a quiet, deliberate click that somehow feels louder than a slam.
Miranda watches the door for a moment. “What is going on between you two? This weekend you were doing a bad job of pretending you weren’t holding hands, and now you’re sniping at each other.”
“It’s nothing.”
Miranda exhales and then sets her planner on a side table by the entrance. “It’s not nothing. You’re as annoyed as I am. Why that boy couldn’t upload a simple assignment is beyond me.”
I go to move past her, but she snaps her fingers and lures me to her.
“Ryder and I have to meet the boys at the rehearsal space. I’m also meeting the lawyers about drawing up new contracts.” Miranda checks her wristwatch. “But we need to find time this week for you to sit down with Ryder and help him write the new essay.”
“No,” I blurt it out like it’s a full stop.
Miranda looks up from her watch.
“I’m not helping him,” I say. “Not this time. I refuse.”
She studies me for a beat, deciding how to reframe the request. “Alice…”
I shake my head, cutting her off. “I’m not doing it again.”
Miranda moves closer, and her expression softens. “I understand why you’re frustrated. You put in so much hard work, and he dropped the ball. That isn’t fair.”
“I’m not helping him.”
“But will you help me?” There’s almost a vulnerability to her voice. “You’re good at getting through to him. Whatever you’re doing in those sessions, it’s working.”
“Miranda, he left me at school today. I’m done.”
“You can’t be done. I need you to get through to him.”
“I’m not your tool, Miranda. No.”
Miranda’s lips purse, and a vein in her neck pulses. “Alice, you can’t just…”
“No!”
“I need you!” she yells. “I can’t have everything I’ve worked for falling apart!”
“I’m not your pawn!”
“But he’s better because of you!” she yells, and then something falters in her expression.
She blinks hard, stepping backward and composing herself.
“It’s not just tutoring…” Her voice softens as she curls her hair behind her ears, dipping her gaze.
“It took me a moment to realize it, but you helped him during the performance on Saturday night. It was you who helped him kick those nerves. He needs you, Alice.”
“So who is it, Miranda?” I ask, nausea sloshing inside me. “Him or you? Who am I helping?”
“It’s helping all of us, Alice. We all live under this roof.”
“I can’t do it,” I tell her. “It’s not just me. Ryder doesn’t want to be around me either.”
“That’s how he felt when your tutoring sessions began, and you both got through it.”
“Find someone else.”
“We tried that,” Miranda replies. “Many, many times. Nothing has been as promising as when he works with you. It’s just one more essay, Alice. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“No, it isn’t. What about the next class he’s failing? It’ll never be enough for you.”
Miranda groans, stomping her high heel on the hardwood floor. “Why won’t you help me? Why must everyone in this family make helping me so infuriatingly hard?”
I squint, shaking my head. “What are you talking about?”
Miranda reaches for her planner, and something slim and brass slips out from between the pages before she closes it. Miranda turns toward the door, shutting the planner and tucking it under her arm.
“Wednesday afternoon,” she says, striding toward the front door. “You and Ryder will study in the library. No arguments, Alice. You promised me you’d help him, and that’s what you’re going to do.”
Miranda doesn’t wait for my answer. The door opens and closes, then there’s nothing but the flicker of the chandelier and the fading crunch of gravel outside.
I turn back to the side table to investigate what fell out of Miranda’s planner.
My breath escapes in one low gasp.
A key. Small, brass, and slightly tarnished.
I cross the foyer and pick it up. As I inspect it in my hand, I remember where I’ve seen it. The one and only time someone has used a key in this creepy house.
Upstairs. Miranda’s office.
“Is the coast clear?” Madison whispers, sheepishly appearing from down the hall. “What the heck was happening with all that yelling?”
“Just my aunt being my aunt.”
I open my palm, and the key sits in the center.
Madison stares at it. “What is that?”
“It fell out of my aunt’s planner.” I move through the hallway and toward the staircase. “It’s for the door to her office.”
“Does she know you have it?” Madison asks, following me up the stairs.
“Nope.”
A beat of silence.