“They run several multi-million dollar corporations,” Tate says.
“Oh.” I suddenly feel very, very stupid. Obviously, Tate didn’t mean they work hard physically in manual labor. Not when he didn’t even bat an eye about giving me a brand-new, super expensive laptop. Not when he always orders expensive food and pays for things like massages I don’t actually use.
Tate sighs. “They love what they do, but they’re always busy... and stressed. So whenever they have time for my sister and me... they’re usually exhausted.”
I nod and wait for him to continue.
“When Wren and I were growing up, they always insisted we were on our best behavior or else they’d call one of our nannies or the housekeeper to take us away.”
“Take you away?” I gape. “Where?”
“To another part of the house.” Tate chuckles, and my cheeks flush because my mind went straight to Hansel and Gretel. “Our parents didn’t want to be around us if we were upset, or sad, or we weren’t good company. They liked to see us acting like perfect kids. Doing homework and smiling and telling them interesting stories or playing the piano.”
“You play the piano? Why didn’t you tell me?” I picture us sitting side by side on the piano bench, legs and shoulders touching as we play a duet.
Tate shakes his head. “Just the guitar. Wren’s the piano player in the family. Make sure you hear her play when you meet her. She’s amazing.”
His words—and the certainty that I’ll get to meet his sister—warms me from the inside.
“Wren’s always trying so hard to please our parents,” Tate adds. “And she always acts like everything’s fine, even when it’s not.”
“Sounds like someone else I know...” I tell him softly.
“Maybe a little,” Tate says with a self-deprecating smile. “But she’s been acting distant. The last couple of times we talked, she wasn’t herself. And now she stopped replying to my texts.”
“Maybe you should call your parents. I know they’re busy, but...”
“I called Zola. She’s the head housekeeper, so she knows everything that’s going on in the house.”
“And?” I press.
“And she says Wren’s fine. Going to school, doing homework. But I know something’s wrong, I just don’t know what.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
Tate shrugs. “Charles said I should just take his private plane—”
“He has a private plane?” I gasp and pull us to a stop in the middle of the path so I can gape at him.
Tate takes one look at my expression and starts to laugh. “Yes, Roo Roo. Charles is, well... Charles.”
Which doesn’t explain anything and explains everything, all at the same time.
“So you’re going to fly home?” I ask.
“I don’t want to seem like some crazy, overprotective big brother.” Tate shakes his head. “Wren’s in her senior year. She’s probably just busy, and I can’t expect her to text me every day. I’m probably just overreacting.”
“But what if something really is wrong?” I feel a pang of worry for Wren, home all alone without her big brother to look out for her.
“I’m sure she’s fine.” Tate gives me another one of his everything is fine smiles. “If something was really wrong, Wren would call me.”
“Or maybe she wouldn’t...” I tell him softly. “When things got really bad at home over the summer, I stopped texting my friends. They kept asking what I was up to and telling me about all the awesome things they were doing, and I didn’t feel like I had much to say. So eventually... they stopped texting back. I wish I had someone like you, who was worried enough about me to check.”
“I’m so sorry, Roonie.” He wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. “I’m sorry no one was there for you. But I’m here now. So are Charles and JJ and Silas.”
I roll my eyes at the mention of Silas, but with my face pressed up against Tate’s chest, it’s not like he can see. I wonder if I should bring up what happened in the garden, but this isn’t a good time. Not when Tate still hasn’t said what he’s going to do about Wren.
“Are you going to fly out there?” I ask softly against his chest. “Just to make sure she’s fine?”
“Yeah, I think I will,” Tate whispers into my hair and pulls me closer. “Thanks, Roonie.”
Chapter 11
“I want to show you something,” Tate says, taking my hand and leading me down the winding park path until we find ourselves blissfully alone. Soon, the usual campus sounds—the talking, the laughing, the dance crew blasting their speakers on the edge of campus—fade away.
Tate pulls me into his side, and my heart races as we enter a magical dream. A heavenly quietness surrounds us. Overhead, a bird sings out, almost like we’re inside a fairy tale.
Without even realizing I’m doing it, I lean into him, luxuriating in the warmth of his skin and inhaling his scent. Awash with happiness, I sigh.
“I love running down this path,” Tate murmurs. “I always alternate between here and the forest.”
“It is beautiful.” I nod in agreement as I take in the sights, sounds, and smells of nature.
“I’m so glad you decided to come with me, Roonie.” Tate gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And I love having you all to myself.”
A warm and sensual shiver runs down my spine. That Tate likes me at all is an alluring prospect. The fact that he wants to be alone with me is even better. Suddenly, I’m barely aware of where we’re going. I might as well be floating on a cloud.
I gaze up into Tate’s brilliant blue eyes and let myself melt further against his body. Something rumbles. For a moment, I think it’s my stomach. Then I look up and realize it’s a group of distant thunder clouds, moving closer. The skies overhead are getting dark, too. Even so, it’s not enough to darken my feelings of joy.
I lean into Tate’s warmth as a song starts to take form in my head.
Seeing Silas was a disaster
Tomorrow could be my Happy Ever After
I’m no longer all alone
Could it be I’ve found my way home?
Shining heart and eyes like the ocean
His sweet words are my love potion
Blond hair and a smile so disarming
Could it be I’ve found my Prince Charming?
My cheeks flush, worried I’d sung the words aloud, but Tate isn’t looking at me. Unlike earlier, he seems relaxed, like the decision to fly out and see his sister alleviated all his worries. Which means this is probably a good time to tell him about Marcus the RA and Silas Covered in Thorns.
“Tate—” I only manage to get his name out when a cool droplet splashes onto my face. Then another droplet hits my arm. I shiver.
The sensation of passionate heat emanating from Tate, mixed with the chilly rain above, makes my skin tingle all over. It takes my brain a moment to make sense of it. I look up and see that the skies above us have become completely dark.
Tate swears and looks over my shoulder.
“There!” he shouts.