Zach
The door closed and I stood there, staring at the wood. Everything had changed in the house, and that’s why I’d wanted her to get rid of Nolan.
But those soft curls between my fingers. The way she’d clung to me. Her inept kissing technique. So sweet.
What the fuck was that?
This was Amber. That snotty little goody-two-shoes everyone loved.
That kiss… holy fuck.
I heard her muffled sobs filter through the door. My eyes closed and I leaned in, pressing my ear to the door. They weren’t stopping.
Someone cleared their throat behind me.
I jumped upright, relaxing when I saw it was Luke. He stood there in a pair of shorts. I hoped his dick had shrivelled off in the cold.
“What you doing there, champ?” he asked casually.
“None of your business,” I said, stalking to my bedroom.
“If you’re going to eavesdrop, do it at your mother’s door. You might learn a few things, if you know what I mean,” he said, with a wink.
His words sank in. I grimaced at the thought. It took everything I had not to slam my door shut.
I heard his laughter before it slowly disappeared.
The moonlight left a sliver of light slip past the curtains. I paused for a moment before climbing back into bed. I tried to think of my life in Oxford. Continuous parties. Bountiful pussy on campus and off. I shouldn’t have come.
I reached for my phone and dialled my mother’s number.
Voicemail.
I checked my messages again.
She’d never wished me a happy Christmas.
I tapped edit on her contact details.
Deleting the saved name from Mum to Zoe—BirthBitch.
I thumbed over my contacts, reaching Isabella. I’d never answered her messages or listened to her voicemails. Eventually she’d stopped. It was what I’d wanted back then.
With a sigh, I locked my phone and placed it on the nightstand.
But when I closed my eyes, I saw Amber. Crooked big teeth and frizzy hair. She’d always been so happy, oblivious to the world around her. So annoying, trailing after me in the house, messing with my music, stealing my sweatshirts.
Then there was that night I was babysitting while Isabella was at the hospital. Dad was dying, and I was drinking with my friends.
Alisha read out her diary like a confessional.
She’d taken my sweatshirts to smell like me. Followed me around because she had a crush on me. But then there were the drawings. Hearts full of ZR + AR. Pages of Mrs Amber Rayne written between the lines of her surveillance. Poems of love and my features—especially my green eyes.
They’d called her names.
Real nasty ones.
I punched my pillow a few times and turned over, closing my eyes.
It had just been a silly crush.
Nothing more.
But as I began to succumb to sleep, I touched my lips and thought of her.
Then the dull thuds began. Isabella’s moans followed. My stomach lurched.
I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head.
That fucking bastard was doing it on purpose.
? ? ?
Isabella was humming as she moved around the kitchen with an energy level she shouldn’t have had at her age. Luke made a beeline for her. He came up behind her and began kissing her neck, saying some shit that made her giggle. A grown woman giggling.
Oh god.
What the fuck?
There were children here.
They had no shame.
I felt the blood drain from my face as he continued to bump and grind against Amber’s mum. He must be at least fifty. I glanced at Amber, but her face was buried in a textbook.
I kicked her under the table and nodded at her shameless mother and the perverted old bastard.
“What?” she mouthed, with a frown.
Before I could say anything, Isabella placed a plate in front of me while Luke set one down for Amber. Isabella brushed her hand over my head.
“How did you sleep?”
Luke looked at me.
I looked at Luke.
“Wonderful,” I said, my voice tight.
Luke placed his hand on Amber’s shoulder, and I almost stood up.
“Put your book away for now, poppet.”
Poppet?
She turned to smile at him before closing her book.
He walked away to get two more plates of food while Isabella got the drinks.
I cut into the sausage, slashing it down the middle, considering my options. I was almost finished with uni—I could get a job anywhere near Amber’s uni. She wouldn’t live under his rule.
Fucking poppet. Who the fuck did he think he was?
I swallowed the sausage and sliced the egg. The yolk burst open and spread like a pool of blood on my plate.
She wasn’t changing her surname.
Ever.