Chapter 6 #2
I’ve only been gone a day, and he’s already going out with another girl.
But it’s not a date. And she’s not his type.
He even told me that when I asked him. He said she was too quiet and moody, which is true, but she’s only that way some of the time.
She might be different tonight. If she were, would she suddenly be his type?
Or what if he really did like her but told me she wasn’t his type, so I wouldn’t be jealous?
Why am I even considering this? Axl would never cheat. He loves me. I’m just feeling insecure right now because we’re so far away.
No longer hungry, I head back to the house. When I get there, I see a car in the driveway. A black Ferrari. It’s probably one of my cousin’s rich friends.
Just what I need. More rude, obnoxious guys at the house.
When I walk inside, Brock is standing there. So I guess it was his Ferrari.
“I was just about to come find you,” he says in an angry tone. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I was taking a walk.” I go past him. “What’s the big deal?”
He comes around in front of me, blocking my path. “I drove all the way here to take you to dinner. I don’t have time to wait around trying to figure out where you went.”
“You never said we were going to dinner,” I say, using the same angry tone he’s using. “I wasn’t even sure I’d see you again.”
“Of course you’d see me,” he scoffs. “I live here.”
“You live in LA.”
“I live in both places, depending on my work schedule.”
“According to your sons, you’re never here.”
“My sons are not the most reliable sources of information, which you’ll find out once you get to know them. Have you met them yet?”
“Yeah,” I say, holding back an eye roll. “It’s just like you said. They’re super excited to have me here.”
Hearing the sarcasm in my voice, he frowns. “I’m sorry if they weren’t friendly to you. They take a while to warm up to people. I’ll have a talk with them.”
“No. Don’t. You’ll just make it worse. I can handle them. I’ve dealt with guys like them before.”
“Just give it time. I didn’t give them much notice you were coming. I’m sure once school starts and things settle down around here, everything will be fine.”
“Hey.” I walk up to him. “Why didn’t you ever tell them about me?”
“Their mother and I decided it wasn’t a good idea.”
“Why would their mom care?”
“She was very protective of the boys when they were younger. She didn’t want us bringing people into their lives we didn’t trust.”
I huff. “You’re saying you didn’t trust my mom?”
“Miranda didn’t. But to be fair, she really didn’t know her. She was basing her opinion solely on your mother’s association with Devon.”
“And she doesn’t trust my dad.”
His brows rise. “Can you blame her?”
My dad’s addiction drove him to lie and steal, so yeah, I can see why she didn’t trust him, but that doesn’t mean my mom was that way.
“So this is Miranda’s fault? Why my cousins didn’t know about me?”
“Yes, but it was probably for the best. If they weren’t allowed to see you, why tell them about you?”
“Did my mom ever meet Miranda?”
“Yes,” he says, looking away.
“And it didn’t go well, or what?”
“Like I said, the relationship was tainted before it even began, given your mother’s relationship with Devon.” He turns and walks to the stairs. “Trystan! Braden! Get down here!”
“They’re going to dinner with us?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t they?”
“I think Trystan’s at the gym.”
“He’s home. You can tell by the music.”
Music is booming from upstairs. Two different songs are playing, and they keep getting louder, as though Braden and Trystan keep turning up their music to drown out each other’s speakers.
Brock gets his phone out. “I have to text them. They’ll never hear me with that damn music so loud.”
He sends the text. Trystan appears first, sauntering down the stairs. “What the hell you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your father?” Brock asks.
“Just tell me what this is about,” Trystan says, facing his dad, his arms crossed. “I have shit to do.”
“We’re going to dinner,” Brock says. “Go clean up.”
Trystan’s wearing basketball shorts and a tank.
“I’m not going,” he says. “I’m going to the gym.”
“You’re going,” Brock says. “Go up and get ready.”
Braden appears at the top of the stairs. “What the hell you doing here?”
Trystan chuckles. “I said the same thing.”
“We’re taking your cousin to dinner,” Brock says, sounding angry. “Get dressed and be down here in ten minutes.” He looks at me. “Do you need to change?”
The way he’s looking at me implies that I do.
“We can skip dinner,” I tell him, knowing none of them want to go, including Brock. He’s just doing this because he thinks he has to. “I’m not that hungry.”
“She ate my fucking protein bars,” Braden says.
“No shit?” Trystan laughs. “Can’t believe you’re still alive,” he says to me. “If I did that, he’d fucking kill me.”
“Boys, watch your language,” Brock scolds.
“Why?” Trystan asks, glancing at me. “You think Little Miss Perfect doesn’t curse?”
“Little Miss Perfect?” I say. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Dad thinks you’re all sweet and innocent ’cause you’re a girl.”
“Trystan, enough!” Brock says, raising his voice. “Go get ready. Right now! Or I’m taking the car. The same goes for you, Braden.”
“This is bullshit,” Braden says, returning to his room.
Trystan mumbles something under his breath as he goes up the stairs.
“They can be difficult sometimes,” Brock says to me. “They’re not good with change. They just need a few weeks to adjust. I’m going to make some calls in my office. We’ll plan to leave in a half hour.”
“Half hour? I thought you said ten minutes.”
“I told the boys ten minutes because I know they’ll take at least twice that.” He walks off.
“Wait — what do I wear?”
“There should be dresses in your closet,” he calls out as he continues to his office.
Back in my room, I look through the dresses. Some are fancy, some are casual, and some are in between. I don’t know which one to wear.
Deciding on a casual one, I pick a yellow sundress and the white sandals that were placed on the shoe rack just below it. Given the placement, I’m guessing the shoes go with the dress. I’m really bad at putting together clothes, especially nice ones. I mostly live in jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers.
Looking over at the side of the closet that has my things from home, almost everything is black or gray. This is the first time I’ve worn yellow in my entire life. I feel stupid in this dress, but it actually doesn’t look that bad on me.
There’s a knock on the door.
“You ready?” a deep voice says.
Ready? It’s only been ten minutes. I go to the door and find Trystan there, wearing light-colored pants and a pale blue button-up shirt. It looks good on him with his blond hair and blue eyes.
“I thought we weren’t leaving for twenty minutes,” I say.
“We’re leaving now,” he says, glancing down at my dress. “Braden and I want to get this over with and get home.”
Turning back, I go over to the dresser and get my phone. “Why don’t you just not go?”
“You heard my dad. He’ll take the car if we don’t go to this stupid dinner.”
“Why is he doing this?” I ask, meeting up with Trystan at the door. “I thought you said he’s never here.”
“He’s not,” he says as we walk down the hall. “He’s just here to impress you. Make you think he’s a decent father. He’ll stick around for a day or two and then come up with some excuse for why he has to leave.”
“For how long?”
“A few months. You probably won’t see him again until Thanksgiving.”
“Seriously?”
“Everyone ready?” Brock asks as he comes down the hall to the living room. He’s in a light gray suit with a white dress shirt, but no tie. “Where’s Braden?”
“In the kitchen,” Trystan says with a laugh. “Probably counting his protein bars.”
“Braden, get in here!” Brock yells. “We’re leaving!”
Braden appears in black pants and a tight black polo shirt. He saunters into the room, his dark eyes locked on mine. Damn, his eyes are intense. The way he’s looking at me makes my heart thump faster. He’s trying to intimidate me, but it’s not going to work.
He stops next to his dad, but his eyes are still on me.
“Let’s get this over with,” he says, his gaze moving down to my dress. To my body.
What the hell? Is he checking me out?
Okay, I might’ve been checking him out too, but I’d never do anything with him. He’s my cousin.
“Let’s go,” Brock says, turning to leave.
Trystan follows, but Braden remains in front of me, his eyes lifting up to mine.
My heart beats even faster. I look away, then hurry past him.
What the hell’s going on with him? I thought he hated me, but just now I got the feeling he likes me. As more than a cousin.