2. Melody
Chapter two
Melody
The car is silent as Mom rolls up the long driveway. The black iron fence blocking our path slides back with a groan, drawing my gaze to it. It’s old money, the first sign that we’re never going back to our single-wide trailer at the park we left behind in Staten Island.
The mansion in the distance is the second sign, towering over the posh neighborhood like a daunting beacon. It’s beautiful, but nothing we’re used to.
The rolling fresh grass and the crisp scent of spring linger in the air as I lean on my folded arms out the open window of the backseat.
There’s not a single decayed spot on the lawn, and the flowerbeds running parallel to the driveway are adorned with brightly colored petals.
It eases some of the tension swirling in my gut.
At least the view is pretty.
“How are you feeling, Jellybean?” Mom asks, her blue eyes flickering over to me in the rearview mirror. Her brown-blonde hair is tucked neatly behind her ears, concern pulling at her dark brows as the faint laugh lines around her mouth wrinkle.
My mom has always been beautiful—tall and striking.
She reminds me of a rare gem, often hidden within a flowing riverbed and surrounded by harsh conditions.
She never lost her sparkle along the way; no matter how many jobs she worked or late nights she pulled at the bar, she still radiates a beauty that seems timeless.
I’m a smaller replica of her, but my hair is a bright blonde, and my eyes are an amber brown, inherited from my late father, whom I’ve only seen in photos.
He passed before I was born, but the memorabilia my mom keeps is like opening a gateway into who I was molded from.
I have the same button nose and narrow chin, with the same softness my mom has in her cheeks.
I’m a perfect combination of both of them, allowing me to get a glimpse of my dad anytime I look in the mirror.
“Nervous…” I trail, one of my hands sliding down to the end of my sundress. I roll the fabric between my fingers, giving myself a small morsel of comfort.
Mom’s eyes track the motion, recognition passing on her face before she replaces it with a soft smile. “You’ve already met Mr. Wilder before. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I’ve met the billionaire more times than I can count.
After he first bumped into my mom during one of her shifts at a high-end restaurant, they’ve been smitten with each other.
Watching them slowly fall in love over the last year has breathed even more life into Mom, giving her a glow that awed me.
To see your strong-willed mother finally cared for and doted on the way she deserves is breathtaking.
Mr. Wilder never intended to replace my dad, but he’s been a saving grace in our small family.
He’s kind and generous, always attentive to mine or Mom’s needs.
He shows us off any chance he gets, waving a proud hand as if to say, “Look at the treasure I found!”
Meeting the warm and kind man again isn’t what rattles me. It’s his son.
Kaden Wilder hasn’t made any attempts over the last year to meet us. There hasn’t been a whisper on whether he’s angry or upset about the union. He didn’t even bother reacting to the news of us moving in. He’s been silent, and that’s what has me swallowing past thick fear.
I’ve seen a photo of him once, a quick flash on Mr. Wilder’s phone a few weeks ago.
Kaden is only a year older than me, but my opposite in every way.
His hair is black and thick with mussed curls that fall into his sharp green eyes.
They’re a light shade that seems dulled, but catching nonetheless—rimmed with faint shadows as if he doesn’t sleep.
He’s tall for his age, his elbows thin as if he hasn’t grown into himself yet.
There was just something so striking about seeing that photo.
It was like his gaze held something I couldn’t grasp—an emptiness that shouldn’t be there.
It was unnatural, but I was drawn to him.
Even though his mouth was etched into a hard line, painting his indifferent nature perfectly, I couldn’t stop my eyes from soaking in every detail.
The baggy black pants tucked into scuffed dark boots, the thick jacket that swallowed his frame, and the chains around his neck were like gazing into a life I had no part in.
Not with my frilly dresses or pastel colors. I don’t know why I was so intrigued by his appearance, but something sparked in me.
A hope.
Maybe despite our differences, we could be a family. One patched on the broken pieces of our parents’ pasts, but close as siblings.
I’ve always wanted a sister or brother. The life of an only child can get lonely. I’ve tried to see every possible good outcome to this meeting. We’re moving in, and my only fear is that Kaden takes one good look at me before turning up his nose and never speaking to me again.
The poor girl from the trailer park is left with a new big house, a bonus parent, but no sibling to run to when times get tough.
“Look at how beautiful, Jellybean!” Mom exclaims, peering up at the lavish home with bright eyes.
It’s grand in appearance with pale stones constructing the outside.
The roof is dark and sloped sharply, matching the ambiance of the tall floor-to-ceiling windows, which offer a tinted view of the living room.
I know there’s a large terrace out back and an inground pool that stretches as far as the eye can see.
This is a whole new world, and I can’t help my wonder as I stare in disbelief. How could someone possibly have this much money? It’s unbelievable…
Mom pulls up to the massive garage before cutting the engine. She gives me one last look of reassurance before placing her hand on my knee. “Everything is going to be fine, Melody. I promise.”
I nod, swallowing back my trepidation the best I can as I open my door and step onto the beige cobblestones. The air kisses my skin as the sun soaks into my shoulders. It’s nice, but it isn’t a balm for the nerves currently eating away at my stomach.
Mom pulls her cardigan closed over her chest, beaming as the front door to the home opens. Mr. Wilder steps out of the house, smiling warmly when he catches sight of us in his driveway.
He’s tall, over six feet, and slightly rounded around his middle.
His hair is kept neat, with the salt-and-pepper standing out mostly at his temples.
The loose white button-down he wears wrinkles as he moves, revealing the long khaki pants he wears with elegant dress shoes.
His bulky watch catches the light, shining as he nears us.
“Hello, my love,” he says warmly before encasing Mom in his arms and kissing her.
“Hi,” she says bashfully, her lips quirking as her eyes become love-drunk.
“Melody, my dear, you look lovely,” Mr. Wilder compliments before giving me a tight squeeze. His cologne, something rich and deep, curls in my nose as I return his embrace.
“Hi, Mr. Wilder,” I reply pleasantly.
He takes a step back, pride shining in his eyes. “My girls. Let me get you situated.”
He takes Mom’s hand, their voices quieting to a whisper as I trail behind them. I can’t help but watch their interaction as Mom smiles at the man, her eyes filled with hearts. She’s completely smitten with him, and as they chuckle quietly together, I know Mr. Wilder’s feelings are just the same.
Walking into his home is like stepping into another dimension entirely.
Beneath my feet, polished marble sparkles, and I catch my own reflection.
The ceiling is tall, and the natural light from the windows casts a glow over the spacious living room area where wide white sofas rest. There’s a huge fireplace adorned with sentimental photos and a flat screen above it.
The kitchen is connected in the open layout, but it seems miles away from where I stand.
Hanging light fixtures dangle above the marble island, and the fridge is big enough to feed an army rather than a father and son.
There’s a connected pantry that’s open and much bigger than my bedroom back at the trailer park.
I feel so utterly out of place, but as the older man turns his kind smile on me, I relax. He knows this is a change for us.
“I’ll get your bags from the car. Why don’t you unwind?” Mr. Wilder offers.
“Thank you, Maxwell,” Mom grins.
He kisses her cheek. “Anything for you, my love.”
The sounds of footsteps on the stairwell draw my attention. My breath becomes bated, resting between a heartbeat and time as it stands still. The dark boots thud against the steps, drawing my gaze to the boy wearing them.
Kaden is haunting in person—the bags under his eyes are deeper, and the sharpness in them seems to snag on every movement like an intrusion.
The air around him is thick, yet utterly dead.
There is no brightness or playfulness to the eleven-year-old boy.
He’s quiet and calm, not a hint of surprise pulling at his relaxed features.
He’s hauntingly beautiful.
As those dulled eyes land on me, I feel my back go ramrod straight. Awareness zips down my spine, and I want to offer a friendly smile, but I’m stuck.
“Kaden, my boy!” Mr. Wilder’s voice projects across the front room. “Come say hello.”
The boy reaches the bottom step, tucking his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. “Hello.”
His voice is monotonous—uninterested. He clearly doesn’t have an opinion on us moving in either way. We aren’t intruders to him.
I feel myself relaxing a fraction. This isn’t so bad. I lift my hand in a small wave, testing a smile. “Hi. I’m Melody—”
“I know who you are.” He shuts me down quickly, his expression remaining cool.
“Kaden,” Mr. Wilder warns. “Don’t be rude to her.”
The boy’s eyes flicker between the three of us as if he’s gauging our reactions before his face resets and he turns his gaze on me. “I’m sorry.”
It’s a sterile apology, feeling cold and robotic. There isn’t an ounce of sincerity behind his words, but it doesn’t shake me the way I thought it would. Seeing him up close is much different. I can tell he isn’t actually being rude, and it melts those nerves away.
I smile warmly. “It’s okay.”
The boy blinks once. Then twice before turning his attention to his father. “I’m going to the creek.”
Mr. Wilder sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You and that creek. Can you at least introduce yourself?”
Kaden gives both my mother and me a glance. “I’m Kaden. It’s nice to meet you.” He turns on his heel, trudging towards the glass sliding doors of the terrace without a glance back.
As the door slides shut, Mr. Wilder apologizes. “I’m sorry about my son. He doesn’t do well with social situations.”
Mom places a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes him. “It’s fine. This is a big change. He’ll come around to it.”
The man nods. “Melody, your room is on the third floor, the last door to the left. Why don’t you go and look at the space? It’s a blank canvas for now, but we can decorate it however you want.”
I look at Mom, waiting for her approval before she nods and ushers me up the stairs.
Low conversation starts between the two adults, and I pinpoint Kaden’s name a few times as I scale the steps slowly.
I take in the sentimental photos lining the wall, catching a glimpse into the life my new brother lived before me.
In one, a woman with dark hair and a wide smile squishes her cheek against his.
She looks radiant and beautiful, while the boy at her side appears to be quietly feigning interest. The left corner of his mouth is lifted, but his joy doesn’t reach his eyes.
The next is the family of three posing in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
Mr. Wilder has a hand around the woman’s waist and the other resting on Kaden’s shoulder.
The couple grins broadly, enjoying their vacation, while their son looks as if he would rather be anywhere else.
There’s a mass of an untold story with every new picture, and each time, I’m drawn to the boy with a twinge of sadness in his gaze.
I tilt my head at one of the photos, trying to read his expression, but it’s something my brain can’t process. There are layers to Kaden, and I have no clue how close he’s going to allow me.
As I reach the third floor, a long corridor of doors stretches in front of me. The one at the very end of the hallway has a neon yellow and black caution tape forming an X over it. There’s a stolen ‘Do Not Enter’ street sign hanging in the center.
I snort at Kaden’s attempt to keep everyone out of his space.
My door is resting beside his, completely blank.
I step into my new space, pleasantly surprised to find a balcony with wide glass doors.
There’s a blue curtain to draw over them to block out the light, but I don’t bother as I step into the natural warmth bathing the room.
The bed is huge and far too big for just me, with hulking wooden posts that extend and almost touch the high ceiling. There’s a cute vanity stained a cherry color and a desk with a rolling chair. The closet is open, and I blanch at the walk-in space.
It’s the size of another room! I definitely don’t have enough clothes to fill it…
I do a spin, fully taking in my home. It’s so different from my small room back at our trailer, but it’s nice. A little lonely…
But if this makes Mom happy, then I’m happy.