I pinch the cigarette butt between my fingers, trying to come to terms with the answer to his question. The wheels of fate are already set in motion, and the only thing I can do now is to see where they lead me.
“I guess I’m going to church.”
Chapter 4
Scarlett
My skin heats up as his gunmetal, gray eyes rake over me. With every note I hit, his devious smirk only widens, making the pit of my stomach curl in on itself. I avert my focus from his grueling gaze back to the sheet music in my hand, not wanting to give him any further provocation. But even without staring him in the eye, my body reacts to his scrutinizing glower.
Of all the places Easton Price could plague me, he just had to decide my uncle’s church to be the best one. I mean, this is a place of worship, for crying out loud! How can the devil in black walk within these sacred walls and not burst out in flames? Shouldn’t this be the last place that such a demonic presence would even consider spending his time in?
Shit on a stick.
My panic over Easton attending today’s service is turning me into a melodramatic idiot. Not that I don’t have just cause to be a little perturbed by his presence. Easton’s angel-like features may look handcrafted by God himself, but I’m not stupid enough to believe he’s here looking for salvation. I might doze off during my uncle’s preaching from time to time, but even I know heaven’s most beautiful angel is the one who rules the fiery pits of hell. And true to form, Easton Price has made it his personal mission to bring a sliver of hellish torment into my life whenever the opportunity presents itself.
I have no idea how I’ve offended him.
That’s not true. I know exactly why he looks at me with such animosity.
Aside from that painful truth, I’m also one of the few people in all of Asheville who never fell for his charms. Everyone else I come in contact with thinks that Richard Price’s stepson can do no wrong. But that’s just because they don’t want to piss off one of the wealthiest men on the planet. They all think that, if they can get in good with Easton, then somehow they will gain favor with his stepdaddy, too.
Money.
It’s what drives most souls.
That, and love.
Not that I’m familiar with the latter, but living in the Northside for the last ten years has shown me that the power money provides is a currency most would sell their souls for. I really thought that by coming to live close to the only family I have left, I could be sheltered from such ugliness the world possesses. How wrong I was. If my aim were to preserve whatever innocence I still had, then moving to the town that harbors most of this country’s elite erased whatever naiveté still lingered within me.
It’s ironic that my first encounter with a depraved soul was when I met Easton himself. After that single, messy rendezvous, he became the stormy-eyed monster that lurks in the shadows and taunts me at every turn. No matter where I hide, he always finds me. His silver-molten gaze scorches my skin from ten feet away. Even when I close my eyes and surrender to my slumber, he haunts my dreams.
Easton is a danger I can’t outrun. He brings back the familiar feelings of helplessness and impotence that I’ve tried so hard to overcome. He’s the ruin that awaits me. And now he’s come into my sacrosanct space to remind me of that.
And it’s all my fault.
Easton had always been content in torturing me from afar. That all changed the day I confronted him in class. Why did I do that? Why couldn’t I just leave things alone?
Because you saw him hurting, and you wanted to distract him from the pain.
I miss my high note and sink my nails into my palms as punishment.
This is what Easton does to me. He pulls my focus away from everything that isn’t him. When he said he didn’t even know my name back in Professor Donavan’s philosophy class, I wanted to call him out on the lie. Easton knows me. He probably knows me better than the people I see every day. It took just one encounter for him to see everything I’ve tried a lifetime to hide. To this day, my feeble heart hasn’t recovered from the look in his unapologetic eye when he saw right to the very depths of me. He found me wanting. Less than. Inferior in every way imaginable. He saw the burnt, black handprint scorched on my soul and mocked me for it.
His demons would run circles around mine.
Maybe if I had acted differently that day.
Stood up for myself.
Stood up for him.
Then maybe we would be two different people who didn’t hide in the dark, but basked in the sun together.
Or maybe he’s right—good girls like me should know better than to lie, even if only to themselves. Bad things happen when they do. He proved his point on the first day I ever set eyes on him.
“And who is the beautiful angel?” the woman with the most luscious black hair I have ever seen asks my uncle. Her eyes are a doe-like gray—soft and gentle. I want to warn her that she shouldn’t have such open kindness in view like this. There are people, very bad people, who see kindness and swallow it whole, crushing the purity of it with their sharp canine teeth.
“This is my niece, Scarlett,” my uncle Jack responds with an even tone.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Scarlett. I’m Naomi. Are you here for the summer?”
I open my mouth to answer but then slam it shut when my uncle does it for me.
“No. Scarlett will be living with my wife and I indefinitely.” His tone is so clipped that the woman with ivory clothes and raven hair understands that as her cue not to ask further questions.
“You must be my son’s age. Or close to it, at least. Maybe twelve? Am I right?”
“I’ll be fourteen next fall, ma’am,” I respond politely, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Hmm,” she hums, taking my features in.
Maybe I do look younger than I am. I sure don’t feel it, though. Life has made it that I had to grow up fast.
“Is that so? Then you’re the same age as my son. Maybe when school starts, you could keep an eye on my rebellious boy over there. He needs good influences.”
She beams, looking over her shoulder, and I instinctively follow her gaze. Just at the door, there is a boy with shaggy black hair, shifting his feet from left to right, his eyes pleading with his mother to get out of here.
I understand.
Before coming to live with my uncle and aunt, I had never stepped foot inside a church. Momma always said you didn’t have to attend Sunday service to be close to the Almighty. She used her voice whenever she had the need to be close to the divine. Momma felt the need to sing every day.
“Will Scarlett be going to the middle school in town? If you’d like, I could have a word with Richfield Academy for you. They’re really patient with Easton, so I’m sure they would love someone as sweet as Scarlett here.” She winks at me.
“No need, Mrs. Price. My wife, Gloria, will be homeschooling Scarlett for the time being.”
Her stunning, manicured brows crease, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she bows her head to me and throws me another gentle smile.