Chapter 4
I whip around and see a guy behind me.
“I’m Rumor,” I say, yanking my arm back. “Who are you?”
But I already know the answer. He’s Brock’s son.
I can see the resemblance. They both have that sharp square jawline and perfectly symmetrical face.
Aside from that, he doesn’t look like Brock.
He’s got thick blond hair and blue eyes, which must’ve come from his mother.
Brock has dark hair and dark brown eyes.
I’m not sure which cousin this is, but I’m guessing he’s the younger one — Trystan. Brock said the older one plays football, and this guy looks too lean and thin to play football. He looks more like a soccer player. A preppy one in his white polo shirt and navy-blue shorts.
He folds his arms over his chest. “So you’re the mysterious cousin.”
“Mysterious?”
“You just show up one day, claiming to be a relative?”
“I am a relative, and I didn’t just show up. I was forced into coming here.”
“Yeah, right,” he says, glaring at me. “You jumped at the chance to live with your rich famous uncle, if that’s really what he is.”
I glare back at him. “What the hell are you implying?”
“Look around.” He nods toward the house, then the ocean. “Everyone wants this life. They’ll do anything to get it.”
“My mom died,” I say. “I’d do anything to have her back and be living in New York. But life decided to fuck me over and take away my mom and send me out here to live with my asshole cousins in some stupid town I’ve never even heard of.”
He looks down, then back up. “Sorry about your mom.”
“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes. I storm toward the door. “I’m outta here.”
“Rumor, wait!” He grabs my arm.
“Stop touching me!” I yank on my arm, but he doesn’t let go.
“Tell me why you’re here.”
“You know why I’m here! I just told you! Now let go of me!”
“You’re telling me there wasn’t one person in New York you could’ve lived with?”
“I’m a minor. Unless someone wanted to adopt me or be my legal guardian, I couldn’t stay with them. It was either this or foster care, and right now, foster care’s looking like the better option.” I pull on my arm. “Let me go, Trystan, or I’ll kick you in the fuckin’ balls!”
He cocks his head. “How’d you know I was Trystan?”
“I’m a good guesser,” I say, struggling to get free.
He’s really strong. He’s not even working hard to keep hold of me.
“No, really. How’d you know?”
I give up struggling and stand there. “Your dad said Braden plays football. You don’t look like a football player. You’re too skinny.”
“What the fuck?” He glances down at himself. “I’m not skinny.”
“You are for a football player.” I force down the smile that’s itching to appear, knowing I got to him. I wasn’t even trying to insult him. He’s really sensitive about his appearance if he took it that way.
“I play soccer,” he says. “And I’m bigger than any other guy on the team.”
“Whatever you say,” I smile slightly, looking him up and down.
“You’re kind of a bitch,” he says, letting go of my arm.
“Thanks!” I smile. “And you’re kind of an ass. Actually, scratch the kinda. You are an ass.”
“You think I’m bad? Wait till you meet Braden.”
“Where is he?”
“Football practice.”
“Already? School hasn’t even started.”
“They start practicing in August. You don’t know anything about sports, do you?”
I ignore him and walk back to the railing to look out at the ocean. It’s a really nice view. Watching the waves roll in is mesmerizing and calming, which is what I need right now.
“Be careful on the edge like that,” Trystan says.
“Like you really care about my safety?”
He appears beside me. “You fall over the rail, you’re dead.”
“Good to know.”
“Same with the stairs.” He points to a set of stairs leading down to the rocky shore. “You trip and fall, you’ll break your head open.”
I turn and look at him. “Why are you telling me this? Do I look clumsy?”
“I’m just saying, people have died that way.”
“What people? Are you talking about someone you know?”
“A girl from my school. She was drunk at a party and fell over the railing and died.”
“This railing?”
“No. It was at a friend’s house. A few miles from here. It was at night. Nobody knew she fell until the next morning.”
“They didn’t know she was missing?”
“Everyone thought she went home.”
“Who found her?”
His eyes meet mine. “I did.”
A chill runs through me, but I don’t know why. Is it this story? Or the way Trystan’s telling it, all dark and creepy?
“You were there?” I ask. “The next morning?”
“I was too drunk to go home so I slept outside by the pool. In the morning I still felt like shit. I went down to the shore to try to walk it off and that’s when I saw her.”
“Was she on the rocks?”
“Yeah. Her neck must’ve snapped when she hit. It was kinda just hanging there.”
I gasp. “She was decapitated?”
“Not completely, but . . .” He shakes his head and looks out at the water. “Fucking messed me up seeing that.”
“Did you know her?”
He nods. “Braden dated her.”
“She was his girlfriend?” I ask, shocked, because Trystan told the story like the girl was a stranger.
“They dated on and off. The night of the party they weren’t technically dating but they got drunk and ended up getting together.”
I’m assuming ‘getting together’ means sex, but I don’t want to ask.
“And then she just wandered off?”
“They got in a fight and she left. Everyone assumed she went home.”
“What’d they fight about?”
“Who the hell knows? I didn’t ask. I’m only telling you this, so you’ll know what’ll happen if you aren’t careful.”
He said it like a warning. He’s probably trying to scare me back to New York. It’s clear he doesn’t want me here.
“You have a car?” I ask.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I need a ride to the airport,” I say, heading back to the house.
“Why?” He follows me through the door to the living room.
“I want to go back to New York.”
“You’d seriously choose foster care over this?”
“It’s not what I want, but it’s only for a year. I can handle it for a year.” I head to the front door, then notice he’s no longer behind me. “Trystan? You coming?”
“Can’t,” I hear him say from the other room.
I walk back to the living room and see him sitting on the white couch that faces a long, narrow fireplace set into the wall.
“You just said you could.” I face him, my hands on my hips.
“I said I have a car. I didn’t say I’d take you to the airport.” He puts his feet up on the glass coffee table and rests his hands behind his head.
“I thought you wanted to get rid of me.”
“I don’t give a shit if you stay. This house is so big I won’t even notice you’re here.”
“You noticed me out back just now.”
“I was sitting by the pool. Thought I was alone and then you came walking out.”
“There’s a pool?”
“You didn’t see it?”
“No. Harley said you had one, but I didn’t see it out there.”
“Harley.” He laughs. “That guy’s still alive?”
“He’s not that old. He was nice. I liked him.”
“He hates us. Brayden and me. Thinks we’re shitheads.”
“Sounds about right.” I half-smile.
He jumps up from the couch and walks off. “You want the tour or what?”
“Um, okay.” I hurry to catch up to him as he goes back out to the patio.
Walking fast, he goes past a sitting area with a fire pit down to a lower level where I see a long, narrow pool surrounded by dark wood lounge chairs with white cushions.
He stops just next to the pool.
“Towels are in the bin.” He points to a dark wood bin that matches the lounge chairs. It’s filled with white towels.
“Your family really likes white,” I say, noticing the white umbrellas that top the three tables at the end of the pool.
“My mom does,” Trystan says, heading back to the house.
I race to follow him. “Your mom?”
“This was her house. My dad got it in the divorce.”
“Your mom bought this? What does she do?”
I know very little about his mom or anyone on this side of my family. My mom never wanted to talk about them, and neither did my dad.
“My mom doesn’t really do anything,” Trystan hurries to say, seeming uncomfortable with the question.
He goes through the living room, down a hall to the kitchen. It’s huge, and all white.
“Number one rule for the kitchen,” he says. “Don’t eat anything that’s Braden’s. He gets pissed if you take his food.”
“What food?”
“His training food.” Trystan walks over to the large center island. “All this shit is Braden’s.” He opens a drawer full of protein bars. “And this is mine.” Trystan opens the drawer below it, which is full of small packets of something.
“What are those?”
“Protein and vitamins. You add them to water.”
“You don’t have to worry about me taking those. Or the protein bars. I don’t eat that stuff. Where do you keep the chips and candy?”
“We don’t. Braden and I eat healthy. We’re athletes. We have to.”
“You don’t eat junk food? Like at all?”
“If we want that shit, we go out. We don’t keep it in the house.”
“You will now,” I say, opening a cabinet. It’s full of containers of brown rice and whole wheat pasta. “I need junk food. I can’t eat this stuff.”
Going to the fridge, I open it and see sushi, raw tuna steaks, several bottles of green juice, and different colored vegetables chopped up and put in clear containers.
“Okay, seriously, where’s all the food?”
“What do you mean?” Trystan asks, standing beside me.
“I’d maybe eat the sushi, but I wouldn’t eat anything else in here.” I close the fridge. “Your dad said you guys eat all the time.”
“We do. But this is what we eat.”
“That’s not gonna work for me. I need Pop-Tarts. Cereal. Ice cream.”
“Maria will get it. Just text her what you want.”
“Maria’s the maid, right?”
“She also does the shopping. She’s usually here but she took the afternoon off. C’mon, I’ll show you the rest of the house.” He walks down a long hall and points to a room to the left. “That’s my dad’s office. Never go in there. He’ll kill you.”