36. Blesk
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
blesk
Leaning through the window, Konnor taps a code into a keypad, and iron gates swing open. Past the gardens and pond, the house sits at the end of the drive, looking like it has been there for centuries. Enormous and pale-stoned, with dark timber cladding accents.
“Oh, my God,” Elise breathes, pressing her face against the window, eyeing the property.
Konnor chuckles. “Lucky, hey?”
“Wait till you try his mum’s Long Island iced teas,” Jaxon says. “On the porch. Like a couple of fucking richies.”
“Yeah but you won’t be having more than two.” Konnor laughs. “Or Jax will be holding back your hair.”
“You’ve been here before?” I ask Jaxon.
He unclips his seatbelt. “Yeah, a few times.”
Elise’s eyes sweep the gardens. “What do your parents do?”
Konnor’s eyes find hers in the rearview, a soft smile on his lips. “Bit of that. Bit of this.”
He steers the Prado around the side of the house to the rear, where a garage door lifts to reveal a pink Lexus, a red soft-top BMW, a Rolls Royce, and a Harley-Davidson parked side by side with room to spare.
“Who rides the Harley?” Elise asks, awed.
Konnor lifts a brow. “Who do you reckon?”
“Your dad?” I say.
“My sister.” He cuts the engine. “Flick was born for adventure.” A short laugh through his nose. “Took out mum’s roses three times in one month but rides it like a champ now.” He looks over at the bike, quiet for a moment, his thumb moving back and forth across the steering wheel.
I stare at the Harley. Fuck. And think about what it means that he softens like that when he talks about his family.
I pull my hair tie from my wrist and gather my hair up, then let it fall, then gather it again.
I lean into the middle seat and flip down the visor mirror, check my reflection, and immediately wish I hadn’t.
Konnor looks at me knowingly. “Stop it, Duch.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“They’re going to love you.” He sounds so certain that I almost believe him. Then I look back at the Rolls-Royce and think about how perfect his sisters sound.
Konnor gets out, walks around the front of the car, and opens my door. Holds out his hand, smirking. “Duchess.”
I place my hand in his, letting him help me from the car. “Thank you.” Such a gentleman with me… Sometimes I wish he’d throw me over his shoulder or—something that makes me feel less delicate.
Elise bounces from the car. Jaxon squats. “I’ll show you the grounds. Hop on, little girl.”
She groans, but leaps onto his back without hesitation. “Call me little girl again and I will drop-kick you.”
Konnor laughs and waves them off. “See you two inside in a few!”
He takes my hand and leads me toward an outbuilding about a hundred meters away, past gardens so immaculate the Slaters must have a groundskeeper.
“Cassidy will probably be in her studio,” he says, nodding towards it.
“Dad had it built for my sisters. Somewhere for dance practice away from the house.”
“He built them a whole studio?”
“It wasn’t like that. Cass goes to a proper ballet academy, teaches, too. Dad doesn’t dish out unless it’s a good investment.” He pauses. “She has to put some of her teaching money toward expenses. Electricity and that.”
“So are you a good investment?”
He splutters out a laugh. “I’m just an expense. But Cassidy—” He shakes his head with a smile. “She’ll be performing all over the world one day. She made a promise to stick at it, and she did. I complain about university rugby, but what she puts in everyday makes me look like the princess.”
I watch his easy smile. “I love the way you talk about her. Doesn’t she steal your stuff? Annoy you?”
He flashes me his dimples. “All the time, Duch. Cheeky little pipsqueak.”
My mouth drops open when I see the studio up close.
The exterior alone is nicer than the house Erik and I grew up in—cream brick, a blue tilted roof, tinted windows, an L-shaped couch on the porch, and three egg chairs hanging from the rafters.
Riptide by Vance Joy gets louder as we approach the porch, and the music swells in my heart.
“This isn’t ballet music,” I point out.
Konnor rolls his eyes. “She’s probably freestyling. Like ah, warming up.”
I laugh. “You needed a brother, hey?”
“God, yeah, I really did.”
He swings open the door. Inside, mirrors cover every inch of the walls, and a barre runs the full length of two of them. The ceiling is crowded with downlights and spotlights, and picture frames showcase art and news articles.
And there is his sister.
Cassidy.
The youngest…
She is gliding across the room, watching herself in the mirror.
She’s absolutely tiny, tinier than in her picture on his bedside table.
As she slides and twirls around with perfect precision, a huge smile stretches across her face as if she is performing for a crowd that demands her smile as much as her poise.
She has strawberry-blonde hair, with wisps of red, pulled into a high ponytail.
She’s dressed in a pink leotard, tight black shorts that display lean legs, and thigh-high white stockings.
I can’t help but smile at her, because she looks so beautiful and free-spirited, and I wish I was her for a moment…
She catches sight of us in the mirror. Stops mid-twirl. Squeals. “Konnor! And a girl! Hi!”
I wave and say, “hi,” though it’s too quiet to hear over Vance Joy and that’s fine with me.
“Hey.” Konnor squeezes my hand, grounding me, acknowledging me.
“Come dance with your sister!” she yells over to him, her feet and body still swaying like she can’t stop while the music plays. “Let’s finish the song together!”
He shakes his head. “No, Cassidy. Get Dad to practise with you, Pipsqueak.”
“Mum and Dad are away until tomorrow morning! And you owe me for missing my birthday!” Her voice is barely audible over the music. “Come on,” she calls to him again. “You’re a beautiful dancer!”
He nods towards me—a subtle message for her. “No, Cass.”
“Go,” I say.
Konnor drops his head back, eyes to the ceiling, and groans. “Thank God Jax isn’t here.”
He crosses the room and takes her in his arms. Together, without a word, they square their shoulders and lift their chins in mock formality.
Then they waltz, both of them already laughing.
She is effortless—her feet find each step before his, her body loose with the music and one with it at the same time.
Konnor pretends to lead, and she lets him pretend, spinning out from him and back, each step a little theatrical, a little for my benefit and for fun.
She looks up at him the whole time.
He glances my way and pretends to be embarrassed, rolling his eyes, but he is not the slightest bit embarrassed. Not with those undeniable dimples on show.
I watch them cross the floor together and feel warmth move through my chest—because he did learn to waltz, because he’s dancing with his little sister and not asking for anything in return, because he is exactly who I thought he would be.