Fraziers
Aviana
“Are we there yet?” I ask, though I don’t really mind being held in his strong arms.
“Almost,” he replies simply. So, I lay my head back against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of leather that seems to cling to him.
“Are you smelling me, Little Bird?” he teases. I feel his chest bounce slightly as he chuckles.
“You just smell so… familiar.”
“Oh? How so?”
“I was sent away to a new family after what happened with Maverick. They lived on four acres of land and kept horses. They had two older boys who were always working outside. Everything about them smelled of leather—their aprons, their tools, their boots, their satchels. It was everywhere.”
I hear him inhale sharply followed by the sound of twigs cracking under his heavy boots. “Can I take the blindfold off now, Nightshade?”
“Not yet. Almost there.”
“We’re not there yet? Where are you taking me.”
“Somewhere to help you remember. Be patient.” He shifts me in his arms.
“Nightshade!” I gasp.
“What is it, Little Bird?” he asks as he sets me down on a large, cold rock.
Lifting the blindfold from my eyes, he murmurs, “Let me see those smoky orbs of yours, my Little Bird.”
“Why do you call me that, Nightshade?”
“I told you—it’s the meaning behind your name. ”
“So why don’t you just call me by my name?”
“Because they all call you that here and I’m not them.”
I freeze at his words.
“Tell me more about this new family, Little Bird,” he says, walking down to a river nearby.
Hopping off the rock, I follow him. When he sits on the riverbank, I gesture to his lap.
He raises a brow but motions for me to proceed. “Sit.”
I perch on his lap, curling into a fetal position just as he had carried me earlier. If I stay here, I’ll have control—I can see his hands, his movements, everything. He can’t make a sudden move without me knowing. I am in control , I remind myself.
“What do you want to know?” I ask softly.
“Everything. Start from the beginning,” he replies, his voice calm but laced with an undertone of intrigue.
***
Past
Age 13
It took five long days for Ms. Calley to arrive at the Dillards’ house to take me to my new foster family. Five agonizing days of avoiding Maverick in the halls and trying not to meet his gaze at the dinner table. According to Brynn, Gideon had punished him harshly for what he did to me. He took his belt and lashed Maverick across his backside, then forced him to attend a church lesson with the preacher every day for four hours, plus an additional hour of prayer. Gideon said that should make him “right again” and rid him of his sinful ways.
When I did catch Maverick looking my way, his eyes were black with fury, glaring at me as if I were the source of his suffering. If you stared into them long enough, it was no longer Maverick you saw—but something darker, something inhuman. It was like a demon had taken up residence inside him.
Eloise was kind enough to let me use her bathroom to bathe or shower and to dress around her, just in case Maverick’s old habits didn’t die as easily as Gideon hoped. But Brynn… Brynn was different. She said I had it coming .
After that kiss with Maverick, she accused me of flirting with him, of sticking out my barely budding chest and walking like a slut to entice him. Apparently, I’d been asking for it. Her words cut deep, and as the days passed, the bond we’d shared began to wither. By the time I was ready to leave, it was clear our relationship would never be the same.
And while part of me knows I’ll miss her, I can’t help but look ahead to what’s next. A new life. A better life. At least, that’s what I thought.
***
Shifting in his lap, he grimaces. “Little Bird, I need these boots off your feet. They’re not exactly the most comfortable thing to have digging into my thighs.”
“Oh, I’m so sor—”
“Don’t, Little Bird. Don’t apologize. Just take them off for me.”
“So demanding,” I mutter, leaning over to untie the laces. I kick off the boots, watching as they thud softly in the rocks.
He shifts again, more relaxed now. “So, you had to stay in that house for five days after Maverick assaulted you. Five whole days with that asshole. They didn’t call the authorities in all that time?”
“No, they didn’t. They weren’t exactly the strictest foster parents, but they believed the more you read the Bible and attended church, the closer to God you’d become. Sending Maverick to those preacher-led sessions and making him pray for an hour a day— that was their idea of punishment.”
Nightshade scoffs, his jaw tightening. “I would’ve beaten him with the Bible and then called the authorities.”
“And that’s you, Nightshade. They had a different… tactic.”
He leans forward slightly, his voice firm. “Someone needed to protect you, Little Bird. The Bible won’t protect you. A preacher won’t protect you. And prayer? That sure as hell won’t protect you either.”
“That was then,” I whisper.
“And this is now,” he replies, his tone softer but resolute. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, Little Bird. Never. Now, tell me about this new foster family you were sent to.”
***
Past
Age 13
Ms. Calley pulled up to a charming two-story house nestled in the middle of four sprawling acres of untamed nature. The property was breathtaking, with its blend of dense trees, open grassy areas, and the faint sound of a creek trickling in the distance. The house itself radiated warmth and welcome, with a mix of rustic wood and stone accents that gave it a timeless, cozy appearance. Large windows framed by white shutters reflected the sunlight, and a wraparound porch wrapped the entire home, complete with rocking chairs and hanging plants swaying gently in the breeze. I could already imagine myself sitting on that porch, watching the sunrise and feeling the cool air of early mornings or catching the sunset as it painted the sky in hues of gold and pink.
The driveway curved toward the house, and a long stone walkway led to the front door. As we approached, two figures appeared in the doorway—Mr. and Mrs. Mason and Chloe Fraizer. Chloe had a bright smile that reached her eyes, while Mason’s expression was more subdued, with a neutral look that gave nothing away. Behind them, standing tall and straight like soldiers, were two teenage boys, their arms tucked firmly behind their backs in a stance that screamed discipline.
“Hello, Aviana,” Chloe greeted warmly, her voice as welcoming as the house itself. “It’s such a pleasure to have you here with us. Let me introduce you to our boys, Ryan and Liam.” She gestured behind her to the two boys, who looked to be in their late teens. They each gave a polite nod but said nothing. “Ryan will show you around at school and Liam here is usually out working the land, but if you ever need anything and can’t find Mason or me, don’t hesitate to annoy either one of them,” Chloe said with a playful grin.
Ryan has a muscular, athletic build with defined arms and a self-assured posture. His neatly styled dark hair perfectly highlights his striking hazel eyes, which catch the light with shades of green, gold, and brown. A sun-kissed complexion, accented by faint freckles, adds a youthful touch to his sharp jawline. Dressed casually in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, he gives off a relaxed and easygoing vibe.
Liam had more of a rugged, powerful build, with thick, well-defined muscles honed from long days of farm work I am sure. His dirty blonde hair was slightly tousled like he shook it out after a shower and let it air dry and his dark brown eyes reflected a mix of determination and impulsiveness.
“Thank you, Mrs. Fraizer—”
“Oh no, honey,” she interrupted quickly. “Please, call me Chloe. We’re your family now.”
“Thank you, Chloe,” I said softly, feeling a small wave of relief wash over me.
“Let me show you around and get you up to your room,” she said, turning to lead the way.
As we stepped inside through the double French doors, I was immediately struck by how open and airy the house felt. The living and dining area blended together seamlessly, with high, vaulted ceilings that seemed to draw in every bit of natural light. The space felt alive—bright and warm, but not overwhelming. The kitchen, just off the living area, was stunning. Sleek stainless-steel appliances lined the walls, each one looking more complicated than the last.I silently prayed they wouldn’t expect me to cook for the family, not because I didn’t know how, but because I just didn’t want to. I’d been forced to cook for the Widlows before, and I hated every moment of it. The only reason I’d ever cooked with Mrs. Dillard was to stay as far away from Maverick as possible.
In the center of the kitchen was a massive stone island, the kind you see in magazines. I could already picture us sitting around it, eating dinner, laughing, and maybe even watching TV from the living area. The living room itself had a real fireplace framed by polished stone, and I could imagine curling up there on chilly nights with a blanket and a good book.
Chloe led me toward the stairs. “Your room is upstairs, honey. Let’s get you settled in.”
Before we could start up the staircase, Ms. Calley spoke up. “I didn’t bring her bags in from the car. Do you mind if I step out and grab them?”
Chloe waved her off with a dismissive but kind smile. “No bother, Ms. Calley. I’ll have the boys bring them up.” She turned and called down the hall, “Ryan! Liam! Can you grab Aviana’s things from the car and bring them up to her room?”
The boys nodded in unison, disappearing outside without a word.
As Chloe and I ascended the winding staircase, I noticed the upstairs hallway stretched in both directions, lined with multiple doors. Just how many rooms did this place have? Almost as if reading my thoughts, Chloe smiled and explained, “Your bedroom is right here, off the stairs. There’s a bathroom just to the left of your room. The boys have their own separate rooms down the hall, and they share a Jack-and-Jill bathroom between them.”
I pointed to a door opposite the bathroom. “What’s that room?”
“Oh, that’s just an office for Mason when he works from home,” she said.
“I’ll make sure not to come up here while he’s working. I don’t want to disturb him,” I offered.
“Honey, you’ll be fine. He doesn’t make or take many calls while he’s working here, so it shouldn’t be an issue. Unless, of course, you’re planning some sort of wild rock concert in the hallway.”
I giggled, shyly glancing away. “No, ma’am, I don’t think that’s in my plans.”
“Please, just Chloe. None of that ‘ma’am’ or ‘missus’ business.”
I smiled, already warming to her easygoing nature. “Where is your bedroom, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Of course, honey. Our bedroom is downstairs, just off the kitchen. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to knock. We’re here for you.”
For the first time in a long time, I felt something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years—hope.
** *
I started walking in the river, feeling the water on my feet, describing the family I would have stayed with until I was legally no longer their responsibility.
“Little Bird, come here.” His voice was soft, his hand reaching out for mine.
“Can you take them off, please?”
“The gloves? Anything for you, Little Bird.” He slid them off slowly, one finger at a time, making a deliberate show of it. Once the gloves were off, he reached back for me, his fingers gently curling around mine as he pulled me closer.
I stumbled into his lap, straddling him, but he didn’t release my hand. With his other hand, he moved my wrists behind my back, holding me in place.
“Nightshade…”
“I won’t hurt you, Little Bird. Look at me.”
His eyes were dark, and for a moment, I wondered what their true color might be beneath the contacts. His touch sent an electric pulse through me, but it was the intensity in his gaze that made me shift uncomfortably.
“Little Bird…” He growled, his grip tightening. I realized then that I had been squirming in his lap. The evidence of his reaction pressed against my thigh, undeniable.
“You are many things, but one thing you’re not is a burden. You’re not a waste of time or space. Over-apologizing… it’s a survival instinct. You were beaten every time you did something wrong, so you apologized in the hope they’d forgive you, love you. As a child, all you wanted was to be loved.” Now holding my hands behind my back with just one of his hands, he stroked my cheek with his other bare hand, and I realized I was leaning into it, drawn to the warmth.
“I want you to try something for me. Can you do that?”
“You’re giving me homework, Nightshade?”
“You could call it that. When you catch yourself apologizing, I want you to stop and notice it. Ask yourself these questions: What am I apologizing for? Would I expect someone else to apologize for the same thing? What do I want my apology to accomplish? How do I feel right now? What do I need most in this moment?”
“Nightshade, you sound like my therapist.”
“Don’t compare me to him, Little Bird,” he snarled.
I recoiled slightly, feeling a knot form in my stomach. “I never had to apologize to Chloe and Mason. They were really kind to me.” I say trailing off slightly at the end recalling what really happened when I lived with the Fraizers.
“What happened, Little Bird?” His voice was sharp, authoritative.