FOURTEEN #3
That immediately degenerated into a ‘peeing contest’ about exercising.
Adam suddenly seemed to be bragging about how much he benched, clearly encouraged by Jessa’s reaction to him.
A couple of times, Kieran interrupted, trying to make it sound like the weight Adam lifted wasn’t that impressive.
Lincoln didn't try to stop it; he just sat back, tossing in loaded observations, deliberately making the rift between Kieran and my brother worse.
But then, after what he had said that day, Kieran tackled me to the floor.
I had always known that Lincoln was the trouble-causer.
Then the topic shifted back to school, and the dynamic warped again.
Adam and Lincoln actually found common ground, talking shop about work.
That was almost worse. I watched Kieran’s eyes narrow into slits, his knuckles turning white around his wine glass as he watched his own brother and mine getting along.
The rejection practically radiated off him.
By the time dessert was cleared away, the air in the room was unbreathable.
I knew family dinners in the Blue Room were not a regular occurrence, and thankfully, we had survived it.
Vanessa and Cameron were leaving for the weekend, and I couldn't wait for them to go.
I needed to spend time with my brother without the pretentiousness that came with the Rooks (something I had now become used to and actually welcomed).
Adam and I had our entire Saturday planned—driving to see Sophie, staying out late, and hiding in the pool house with a cheap takeaway and chat.
Just us. A final breath of freedom before we had to face the suffocating reality of visiting our parents before their trial the following week.
We had both agreed that it was something we needed to do before the court case kicked off.
And as far as expectations on how things would go with our parents went. I had none. All I felt was a slight stirring in the numbness in my belly.
I had decided I needed closure on what I had done. I was going to tell my father the truth: that I was the one who called the police on him.
Only then would I ever be free from the constant guilt I felt by doing the right thing.
Everyone left the dining room at different times. Jessa and Lincoln had discussed watching a movie in the cinema room, Kieran took a call on his phone and walked out without saying anything and Adam and I helped clear the dishes.
Adam then helped Maisy onto a chair which he’d placed by the sink so she could help wash up, and I dried them with a tea towel. I liked watching my brother play with the young girl. It reminded me how good he had been with Sophie. We were both keen to see her the following morning.
Eventually, Vanessa took Maisy to bed, and Cameron went to his study, leaving Adam and me to head back to the pool house. I did ask if he wanted to join Jessa and Lincoln for the movie, but I could tell he’d had enough socialising for one night.
“So, what did you think?”
We reached his private door. The water behind us was a flat, glowing turquoise under the floodlights, casting jittery webs of light against the glass.
Adam sniffed, shrugging. “They’re OK. The youngest son hates my guts, though.”
I took a calming breath before explaining, “Don’t take it personally. Kieran thought he was moving in here.” I motioned towards the pool house.
“Did he?” Adam started to unlock the door. He didn’t look back at me but twisted his head to the side as I stood behind him. “So, do I need to watch my back?” Adam’s voice was so low I hardly heard him.
“I don’t think so,” I said. The words tasted heavy. I didn’t trust Kieran—his moods shifted like the weather, but I didn’t think he’d do anything, not really. Bitching about it was one thing, but getting physical under his father’s roof was another matter entirely.
“If he tries anything,” Adam muttered, his long, gnarled fingers wrapping around the brass door handle, “you’ll be sponging him off the walls. I don’t take shit anymore, Ames.”
“He’s not a bully, Adam. Just spoiled.”
“And now some bum off the street just took his throne. Boo-fucking-hoo.” Adam mocked as he turned around.
“You’re not a bum. You are family. Vanessa is Mom’s sister—she’s our legal guardian now.”
“Yours and Sophie’s,” he snapped, the brass handle clicking under his grip. “I’m my own man.”
“Yes. You keep saying.”
He turned his attention back to the key. The deadbolt was stiff, shrieking as it gave way. The sound prickled the hairs on my arms. He then stepped into the dark entryway but paused, keeping his back to me.
“I didn’t like the way he was watching you, either.”
My breath hitched. “What do you mean?”
Pushing the door wide, he stepped inside and turned on the light. “Kieran. Every time you looked down at your plate, his eyes were on you, like you’re his latest conquest. Is there something I should know?”
The silence stretched. The pool filter hummed a low, vibrating note in the yard. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “What do you mean?”
Adam threw his head back, closing his eyes against the brightness of the lights. “Don’t do that, Ames.”
“Do what?”
He snapped his eyes wide, pinning me. “Stall. I know you better than I know myself.”
“You don’t,” I whispered, stepping closer into his shadow. I forced my shoulders back, mimicking the posture I’d practised in the mirror. “I’m not the girl who left that house, Adam. I’m stronger.”
Adam’s jaw tightened. He scanned my face. “Less of a victim vibe,” he conceded, his voice dropping an octave. “I like it. Did the Rooks give you that?”
“Maybe.”
He walked further into the pool house, leaving the door open for me. The space was mostly empty, just a few cardboard boxes stacked in one corner. Adam hadn't brought much. It had only taken him one trip to pack up his entire life.
“Anyway,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m beat.”
“Me too. Night, then.”
I reached for the door to leave, but stopped.
Adam grabbed the hem of his shirt and hauled it over his head in one violent, impatient motion. He didn't bother unbuttoning the cuffs. The fabric tore slightly.
I tried to look away, but I couldn't.
Across the skin of his tanned back, beneath his tattoos, were those horrendous scars. Deep, silver-rimmed grooves from the broken metal selfie stick our father had whipped him with five years ago. My stomach turned over, a familiar, cold nausea rising in my throat.
Thoughts of seeing our parents again choked me.
“Are you sure you want to go through with it?” I whispered. “You know, seeing them?”
Adam didn't answer straight away. He turned around, the front of his chest exposed. My eyes darted away from the self-inflicted marks on his arms—the ones from his period of self-harming.
Adam flexed his fingers, his biceps trembling with a sudden, vibrating current of energy. He looked less like my brother and more like something trapped behind thick glass at a zoo.
“I'm going,” Adam said. His eyes weren't empty anymore. They were bright with a dark, terrifying bloodlust. “But only to deliver a message.”
Fear snaked up my spine, freezing me to the floor. “What are you going to do, Adam? They’ll be in custody. There will be guards. Glass between us.”
He took one slow, deliberate step toward me. Then another.
“I know,” he purred. “I intend to look them in the eye and tell them they are dead to me.”
I bit my lip until I tasted copper. “Me too,” I managed, but the words lacked weight. They sounded thin, fragile, and fake next to his rage.
But then, I hadn't taken the worst of it. I only had the faint silver lines around my ankle from the chain, which was occasionally used to lock me up. I hadn't been broken the way Adam had.
I pushed up onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
The moment my lips brushed his skin, his entire body recoiled.
He wrenched himself away as if my touch burned him.
My heart fractured. A week ago, I thought I was finally getting my brother back.
But standing there under the chemical, blue glow of the pool lights, I looked into his eyes and realised the truth.
The boy I grew up with was gone, and a dangerous stranger stood in his place.