I slide off my shoes. Goosebumps dot my skin. I hug myself and rub at my arms, my stomach suddenly in knots.
There’s no harm in going for a swim. I’m a great swimmer, so that’s not the problem. The issue is being disobedient for selfish reasons, partaking in Thomas’s extravagance. A heated pool. A mansion on five acres. Gated entrance. Five-car garage.
I don’t fit in, and I doubt I ever will.
The urge to rebel is a difficult habit to break. It wasn’t always this way.
After my parents’ deaths, I listened and obeyed, hoping my obedience would bring them back to life and they’d take me away from the loneliness and the misery of never being wanted for who I am.
But no amount of obedience brought them back, and I returned to what I know how best to do. Defy.
To defy is to be punished, and punishment brings about a pain that teaches me life is pain. Pain is an escape from the numbness of life living in foster homes and being reliant on others’ show of mercy.
Tired of thinking of my past when I have my future to think of, I walk over to the deep end of the pool and dive in. That first splash of warm water on my cool skin is like biting into a hotteok straight off the pan. Or spooning a mouthful of warm apple pie dripping with cinnamon and whipped cream into my mouth. Pure heaven.
Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I cross my arms, crisscross my legs, and sink to the bottom. Pieces of my hair caress my face like a wispy breeze. I turn my head side to side. If anyone were to dive in after me, they’d see an impish grin on my face. I stay under the water until my chest is ready to explode.
I come up for air and swim laps from one end of the pool to the other, first on my back, then with my face in and out of the water, the strokes precise from my early years of swim lessons at the YMCA.
When I’m happy and out of breath, I push off the side of the pool and swim on my back. The stars wink at me, and the moon plays hide and seek behind the clouds.
Goodness, it’s so beautiful. I glide across the pool and concentrate on the sounds around me. Frogs croaking. Crickets chirping. Mating calls?
My face heats. I mean, why else would animals make noises in the night other than for booty? Sticking that thought in the recesses of my mind, I hum a tune. “Rewrite the Stars,” by Zac Efron and Zendaya from the movie The Greatest Showman.
Priceless staring up at the stars. Having the place to myself. Not having to worry that I’ll be attacked in my sleep. Or beat for doing something that is wrong in someone else’s opinion but right in every way to me.
I cherish the silence like it’s my last night on this earth. I listen to the frogs and the crickets and brand their little melodies to memory. Also brand into my memory the wrinkles on my fingertips from staying so long in the pool.
Not wanting to be one big raisin, I swim to the ladder at the end of the pool closest to the house. A noise from the front of the house sends tingles of apprehension up and down my spine.
Is Hannah home early? Shit, she’ll tell Thomas I swam in their precious pool, and he’ll scold me for not making sure someone was around to keep an eye on me.
Thomas is a liar and a cheater, but for the most part, he’s a decent guy if you can overlook the lying and the cheating. I hurry to the ladder. Masculine laughter echoes in the night. There’s not one guy but four guys. I bolt for the ladder.
Water splashes around me. I grit my teeth. In the end, the racket I made didn’t matter. The guys heading my way already have it in their minds to enjoy the pool too.
They’re in their swim trunks with towels draped over their shoulders. Groaning, I shove away from the ladder and swim to the opposite side. Before I can get out, the guys circle the pool. They’re like great white sharks scenting blood in the water. Too bad I won’t be easy prey. I swim to the middle of the pool.
“Leigh. Funny seeing you here.” Henry sticks his foot into the pool and kicks, splashing me in the face.
“You too.” I blink away the water in my eyes. “Thomas said you would only be home on holidays and long breaks.”
Something to do with wanting to immerse himself in the college experience is how Thomas explained why his only son wouldn’t be making the one-hour drive home on the weekends. Henry stuck around Cambridge long enough to meet me before he left for Dumas. He followed me and his dad around the estate, a silent and brooding shadow behind us, as Thomas gave me a tour of the grounds.
Thomas pointed to the places I could go and what is off-limits, including Seven’s parents’ place on the other side of the low-lying fence. The Shanahans are private people.
“My dad knows jack shit.”
“Did they kick you out of DU? Sent you back home to live with Daddy Dearest?”
Henry is a younger version of his dad. Dirty-blond hair. Square jawline. Expressive hazel eyes. Some would say they are classically handsome.
“Why are you here, Leigh?” He lowers himself onto the edge of the pool and sits. His friends do the same.
“It’s none of your business.” Tipping my chin, I move my arms back and forth, the strokes long and even. Inside, I am a mess of nerves. I should play nice. I can’t win this war of wills when my arms are getting tired. Soon, my legs will cramp up.
“You’re a stranger. A nobody. Why the hell did my father move you here?”
“You should ask Thomas.”
“Already did. He refuses to tell.”
“Then respect his decision. What he and I have is private.”
“What you and he have?” He glances in the direction of the guesthouse.
“The place isn’t yours anymore. Thomas made it clear it’s my space now.”
He points a thick finger at me. “If you’re sleeping with my father, I’m gonna make you regret you were ever born, Leigh.”
Huh? And gross! “As if. The Stevenson dick isn’t good enough for me.”
I pushed too far. Henry’s growl pierces the air. He launches his body at me. I rush to the opposite end of the pool. There is splashing behind me. Crap!
I scramble up the ladder and am about to make a clean getaway, but someone grabs ahold of my ankle and yanks me into the pool. My chin hits the ladder rung. I bite down on my tongue. Metallic taste in my mouth. I would spit, but I don’t want to get my blood in Thomas’s pristine pool.
“Fucking take back what you said, Leigh.”
I would but he’s dunking my head underwater. I claw at his hands. He doesn’t let up. I open my eyes. The chlorine burns them. I shake my head, trying to free myself from his grip, but he has a firm grasp on my hair. I slam my feet on his thighs and push off, but his fingers hold on to me by the front of my swimsuit, keeping me from making much leeway backward.
My vision goes in and out. My chest collapses onto itself.
This is it. Eighteen years of living going down the drain because I’d rather defy than admit the truth of what Thomas is to me.
I close my eyes and pray for my defiant soul. Hear yelling from a distance. Are my parents fighting in heaven? God, can they quit it? Fingers fist in my hair and yank my head out of the water. Large hands grab me under my arms and tug the rest of my body out of the pool. I sputter. Gulp air. Cough in fits.
Is Hannah home? Did she rescue me from Henry and the chip on his shoulder? I open my eyes and stare up into the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen.