3. Three Kaleb
Three: Kaleb
T he house was silent. I’d expected Freya to be louder, but I could barely tell that she was upstairs besides occasionally hearing her hum or patter around inside Brie’s bedroom.
My fists clenched at the thought.
My mother had lied to me. She'd told me we were going to leave Brie’s room as it was, and instead of sticking to her word, she’d moved all of her belongings out and stowed them away in the attic like they were junk. Not only that, but some unknown girl was staying in there—sleeping in Brie’s old bed. Folding her clothes away in her chest of drawers. Using her mirror.
Freya Henderson.
The five foot five dark-haired beauty that had infiltrated my home. She was too attractive for her own good, and the heated blush on her cheeks when her eyes met mine for the first time was branded into my brain.
I’d picked up on even the smallest of details about her. Her purple-painted nails that were slightly chipped. The small line of freckles dotted over the top of her nose. The tiny scar that ran through the end of her eyebrow—looking like a childhood injury of some sort.
She was a hell of a nuisance, though. A royal pain in my ass.
My mother didn’t go into much detail about why Freya and her mom were here, letting me know there was a mix-up with some debt and that it would be sorted soon. The last thing we needed in this house were people who had issues with money, though. My father had been a gambler, and it hadn’t got him very far in life. He was a loser, a nobody, a waste of space.
The sound of the doorbell dragged me from my daydream, and I yanked the door open with a scowl to see Brent wearing a cheesy grin—multiple people behind him. Stepping aside with a grimace, I clutched Brent’s shirt and dragged him to the side as people filed in.
“You call this small?” I demanded. “Why the fuck is Maggie here?”
I glared at the tall brunette as she settled on my couch, stealing curious glances at me every few seconds.
Brent shrugged. “You slept with her years ago, Kaleb, and she’s good friends with everyone here. I didn’t think it would be an issue.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” I pushed past him and entered the kitchen, pulling myself a beer from the fridge.
Maggie wasn’t somebody I wanted to see again. Nor was she someone I thought I would. We were nothing—simply just a one-night stand, but she hadn’t left me alone for months after.
Music filled the room, and I mentally groaned, turning around to glare at the people who stood in my kitchen. I knew everyone here, but I hadn’t spoken to most of them since leaving to join my bodyguard organisation.
Parties had never been my thing, but after entering the law enforcement profession, discipline and self-restraint had become second nature to me. I didn’t take part in anything that didn’t benefit me.
And parties definitely didn't.
“Kaleb.”
I gazed at Maggie over the top of my beer bottle, arching an eyebrow at her as she smiled up at me.
“How’ve you been? I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Her tone was flirtatious. Seductive. Needy.
“Fine.” I looked away from her, leaning back against the wall. Not only was Maggie a possessive lunatic, but she was also a nasty piece of work. I’d seen the way she treated other girls, and frankly, she was a bitch.
A pretty bitch, but still a bitch.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming back,” she continued, and I resisted the urge to tell her to get the hell out of my house. This was her circle, though, and it had been mine once too. But not anymore. What was the point of getting drunk every weekend? It was all these people knew how to do—besides Brent, who actually possessed this handy little thing called self-control.
“There’s a reason for that,” I responded coldly, turning away from her and heading into the living room.
I was going to kill Brent.