“You don’t deserve her,” he says with a snarl.
“Neither do you,” I reply unintimidated.
“The difference between you and me is that I know I don’t,” he adds before snapping his head away from me and heading up the stairs, no longer interested in anything I have to say.
Shitty thing is that it’s probably the only thing my stepfather and I have in common.
We both don’t deserve her.
She should have never married him.
And I should have never been born.
Chapter 2
Easton
“Morning, sleepyhead,” my mother singsongs with a beaming smile when I enter the dining room.
“Morning,” I mumble with a yawn.
I walk over to her and press a kiss on her forehead.
I pull out a chair and fill my mug with rich, dark coffee, hoping it’ll do the trick to wake my ass up for school.
“Aren’t you going to say good morning to Richard?” She wiggles her brows in her husband’s direction.
I look over to the head of the table where my stepfather is seated. In his pristine dark navy suit, he continues to answer emails on his phone, multitasking as he eats his breakfast.
“Morning, Dick,” I smirk, knowing he hates the nickname I gave him.
He rolls his eyes and offers a mumbled good morning in return, never once lifting his eyes off his phone.
I lean against my chair, tranquilly sipping my coffee when I feel my mother’s probing gaze on me.
“Is something on your mind, Naomi?” I tease before stocking my plate with some bacon and eggs.
There is a sparkle in her light-gray eyes that make her look younger than her thirty-nine years of age. The little excited giggle she lets out just amplifies her innocence. After all the hell this woman has been through, it’s a goddamn miracle she’s still this untainted. I feel, rather than watch, Dick put his phone away, always enthralled with his wife when she’s this jubilant.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just sitting here wondering something. Since you slept most of Sunday away, I wasn’t able to tell you that I had brunch with Charlene Walker and Finn’s new girlfriend yesterday. I guess it got me wondering when the day would come that my son would bring a girl like that home.”
Now I’m the one rolling the eyes like a prepubescent girl. I don’t even acknowledge Dick’s chuckles under his breath at the other end of the table.
“Stone is such a lovely girl. Finn did good in finding her,” she insists, batting her long, dark lashes at me.
“Hmm.”
“Does she have a sister?”
“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ at the end like a douche.
“Are you sure?” she continues to goad.
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“How about a friend?”
Jesus.
“Let it go, sweetheart. You’re making the boy sweat bullets. It’s not a pretty look on him.”
“Hardy har har,” I grumble, sticking another forkful of food in my mouth.
“Fine. I won’t say another word.” She sighs, feigning defeat. “But you’re twenty-three now, kiddo. I know you’re still young and all, wanting to sow your wild oats or what have you, but maybe finding a nice girl to share some time with might get you out of the funk you’ve been in lately.”
I should have known this conversation had an underlying reason. She’s worried about me, and this sudden interest in my love life is her way of vocalizing her deep-rooted concern.
“I doubt nice girls are Easton’s type,” Dick interjects with an amused, crooked grin.
Bite me, Dick.
“You never know. Opposites tend to attract. Look at us,” she counters with a timid smile.
I look over at Dick and see the same googly-eyed expression on his face, spoiling my appetite.
“Yeah, I’m out.” I stand up, making sure the chair scrapes the varnished wood floor to show my disgruntlement.
“Already? But you haven’t even finished your breakfast.”
“I’m good, Mom. I’ll just pick up something at The Grind later on.”
I bend down to kiss her cheek, and behind my mom’s back, I give Dick the bird as my parting farewell. She’s worried enough about me as it is; no use in reminding her that Dick and I aren’t exactly BFFs.
I grab my stuff in the foyer and overhear Mom tell him that she’ll be off most of the day over at the First Baptist Church. My shoulders slump instantly with her plans.
While Richard Price is off and about ruling the world, making his millions, my mother hides herself on sacred ground to fill out her empty days. Back in New York, she was never this devout. But over the years in Asheville, Pastor Davis’s church has become the only refuge she feels safe in. It’s the only place no one will judge, gossip, or ridicule her.
When we first got here, I used to tag along with her to Sunday service. That all changed when I hit puberty, though. I quickly made it known that my ass had no business being inside a church. Mom assumed that my reluctance to take part in holy events was due to my feelings of misplaced guilt and inadequacy. It shames me that I let her believe in such a lie, but to my thirteen-year-old mind, it was as good as any excuse I could ever come up with on my own. Admitting that the real reason was because I got a woody every time the choir sang, would be fucking mortifying and hard to explain.
No.
Not the choir.
It always happened when she sang.
The girl with the blank stare, sad smile, and angelic voice—Scarlett Davis.
Nice girls aren’t Easton’s type.
Dick’s words taunt me the whole drive to school. God, I wish the fuck they were true. It would make my life a whole lot easier if they were. With thoughts of the thorn in my backside still rummaging through my mind, I step into class, my eagle eyes searching for that particular prey. Among the lively students in attendance, she’s easy to spot. In her drab, plain clothing, and trademark ponytail, Scarlett’s head remains bowed down, pretending to write something in her notebook, even though Professor Donavan hasn’t even arrived to start the class.
For as long as I’ve known her, Scarlett has constantly tried to walk amongst us without leaving any trace of her existence.
Invisible.
Undesirable.
Forgettable.
She clings to her inconspicuous cloak like a lifeline as she treads through the Northside’s shark-infested waters. Always diligent in plotting each movement, to ensure no one is aware of her presence. In a sea of fame-hungry debutants and privileged notoriety, where everyone is judged by how many likes and followers they have, Scarlett goes unseen by all, spectacularly unnoticed under their cosmetically sculpted noses. Like the bland walls surrounding us, she melts into the backdrop. So much so, that if you blink too hard you’ll miss her.
But through the years, Scarlett has never been successful in hiding from me. My eyes seek her out in every classroom. They scour for her at every party I go to or any Asheville event I’m required to attend. It’s become my favorite pastime in a masochistic way. Those first few minutes I arrive someplace new, my skin buzzes with electricity and hums with unrestrained energy in the hopes she’ll be there, only to be disillusioned when she is nowhere in sight. Disappointment and self-loathing hits me hard before common sense seeps its way back into me.