I try the cupboard, but the top one won’t open. I stand on tiptoe and pull it hard, but still nothing.
Frustration bubbles into my blood, and it’s not because of the stupid cupboard.
My gaze strays to the house opposite us. It’s quiet, lifeless, and appears deserted.
Is this how I will act from now on? I’ll look at that house and fight the need to cry or something?
He could’ve not told me. He could’ve left and kept the entire thing to himself.
But is that what I want, really?
“Here.”
I push back as a taller body opens the cupboard for me. Cole smiles down at me as I retrieve the bottle of juice.
“Thanks.” I take it, then steal one last glance at the Knights’ house.
Will we meet on holidays now? Or will he cut off any relationship he has with Lewis – and, therefore, this place?
Lewis is my father. Uncle Lewis is my…father.
I shut down that idea before I can focus on it.
“He’s probably watching,” Cole says.
“W-what? Who?”
He leans against the counter and crosses his legs at the ankles. After Xander, Cole is probably the most attractive of the horsemen. His beauty is that calm, refined type. The kind that can belong to a handsome professor or a hotshot CEO.
His green eyes are dark and he gives off a composed façade – façade, because from what Elsa says and what I’ve noticed, Cole runs a lot deeper than what meets the eyes. While he’s kind and doesn’t talk much, he seems to know everything, and he has moments where he completely changes – like when he smirked as Silver ran away to hide her fear.
No good person would enjoy that. I’m not even close to Silver anymore and even I didn’t like seeing her that way.
He’s her stepbrother. He’s supposed to care more, not take pleasure in it.
“He can’t stop watching. It’s an impulse. He used to control it better in the past, but the alcohol is screwing up his judgement,” he continues in his neutral tone. “Xander, I mean.”
“Is his drinking issue bad?”
“Bad? He’s becoming an alcoholic.”
I swallow, my fingers shaking around the bottle. “Maybe it’s better he leaves then.”
“Better?” Cole’s eyes light up as if he’s a dog who found a bone. “So that means you’ve thought of another option to the situation.”
“Y-you know?”
He nods. “So does Aiden.”
Oh. That must be why Aiden said he might have information that explains Xander’s hatred. It was around the time he started getting involved with Elsa, but he never told me anything.
“Since when?” I ask Cole. “Why the hell did he tell you but not me?”
“He didn’t tell me. I connected the dots myself. He did tell Aiden, though, when he was drunk and vomiting his gut. He was complaining about how close you got to Knox after he beat him up.”
“Xander did that?” I release the bottle and it falls on the counter with a thud.
Knox, Teal’s twin, had come to school with his face beaten up and Elsa was dead sure Aiden had done it because he was jealous of him. I never imagined it was Xander. Although I should’ve suspected it since he snarled in my face to stay the fuck away from ‘the new boy’.
I would’ve laughed if it were under different circumstances.
But all of that doesn’t matter now.
It’s done, finished, over.
“About that second option,” Cole repeats. “What did you have in mind?”
“N-nothing.” I swallow. “How can there be a second option in our situation?”
“I see.” He appears thoughtful for a bit. “But before you close all doors, remember, the impossible is nothing if you decide it isn’t.”
He reaches the threshold, then glances over his shoulder. “Oh, and he leaves tomorrow.”
Kimberly
Sometime later, everyone goes home.
Elsa wanted to stay the night, but she’s spent a lot of time with me lately and I can tell Aiden isn’t amused, so I sent her home, saying I need time with Kir.
And I do.
We talk for what seems like hours and he tells me all about the new letters he received and that he might consider replying to one of them.
My baby brother will grow to become a heartbreaker.
He falls asleep as soon as I lie beside him, after making me promise him I’ll never leave him for long again.
I make that promise, and unlike the other time, I have a strong belief that I’ll keep it.
After I tuck him in and kiss his cheeks and forehead, I untangle his small arm from around my waist and leave his room.
As if on autopilot, I find myself down the stairs and standing in front of the huge window that overlooks the Knights’ mansion.
Cole was right, it’s an impulsion and can’t be stopped.
My fingers trail to my scar, feeling over the bandage. Why do I feel like ripped tendons aren’t as bad as the pain creeping under my skin?
It’s slow and almost invisible, but it’ll surely break my heart.
I’m holding my breath for the moment, hoping against hope it won’t ruin me again once and for all.
“Here you are, Angel.”
I smile at Dad as he passes me a mug of Lady Grey tea, then takes a sip of his, its bergamot scent filling the air in no time. Dad is a sucker for tea, British through and through.
For a minute, we just stand there sipping our tea and watching the house opposite us.
“Xander said something that night, didn’t he?” Dad asks.
I pause mid-sip, gulping the liquid as if it’s poison. “How do you know?”
“You were showing signs of improvement before he came in. Besides, you haven’t stopped watching his house since we got here.”
I glance at Dad, unable to understand how he knows so much about me, even though he’s not my real dad.
No – he’s not my biological dad.
Calvin Reed is my real father and the only father I’ll ever have.
That’s why I don’t want to hurt him by revealing Jeanine’s affair, or worse, disclosing I’m not his biological daughter. He’s probably keeping up with my mess because he’s my father. Once he figures out he’s not and we share no familial ties, he’ll throw me away.
My chest squeezes at the thought and I take a large gulp of the tea in a helpless try to hide it.
I’d rather suffer in silence than lose my dad.
“You’re hiding again, Angel. Didn’t we agree you’d tell me everything?”
I keep my mouth on the cup, not wanting to meet his eyes. I’m hiding so I don’t lose you.
Lewis is okay, I guess, but he’s not my dad. He’s not the one who has been taking care of me since I was a baby.
I’m not his Angel.
“Hold on.” He pauses, watching me intently. “Did Xander mention any familial ties by any chance?”
I cough on the tea, some droplets splattering on my hands. Dad pats my back, telling me to take it easy.
“How…” I breathe, then clear my throat. “How do you know?”
“I always have.” His brow furrows. “I’m only surprised Xander does. Did he say how or when he figured it out?”
There’s no way I can keep it inside anymore. I tell him everything about that incident seven years ago and what Xander overheard from Mum and Lewis’s conversation.
“Why did she do that, Dad?” My voice is brittle. “Why did she do that to you and me? How can she make Xan my brother? I don’t want him to be my brother. Please tell me he somehow heard it wrong.”
“Unfortunately, it’s all true.” Dad leads me to the sofa and takes the cup from my hand to place it on the table. “You are indeed Lewis’s biological daughter.”
The tears I’ve been holding in since the hospital flow down my cheeks and my chin and soak the hem of my T-shirt.
“Don’t cry, Angel. It breaks my heart when you do.” He plucks tissues and wipes under my eyes.
“How can you care for me this much when you know I’m not your daughter?”
“The moment I saw your beautiful eyes, I decided you were my daughter. I didn’t care what the world says. DNA doesn’t make a family, Angel. Jeanine is a prime example of that.”
It takes everything in me not to throw myself at him in a hug and ruin his cardigan sweater. “You’re the only dad for me, too.”
He clears his throat. “Lewis isn’t bad either.”
“How can you defend him? Mum had an affair with him.”
“Jeanine lied to him, giving proof that Samantha and I had an affair first.”
My lips part. “S-Samantha Knight?”
He nods. “We had a fling before our marriages, but that’s all it was, a fling. It ended before our respective marriages and each of us went on different roads. We became neighbours, but Samantha and I remained platonic. Jeanine made Lewis believe it was a long affair and demanded revenge. They had their own affair, but it only lasted until she discovered she was pregnant with Lewis’s child. After he found out the facts from me, their affair came to an end.”
I squirm in my seat, but I manage to ask, “So everyone knows I’m Lewis’s biological daughter? Aunt Samantha included?”
“Yes.”
How could she be so kind to me, knowing I’m her husband’s daughter out of an affair?
“Everyone also knows Lewis isn’t Xander’s biological father.”
If my jaw could hit the ground, it would. “T-then who is?”
“I am.” He smiles a little. “He’s the result of that fling with Samantha. Lewis knew about it from the beginning and we made the decision that he and Samantha would raise him as their son. Just like we made the decision that Jeanine and I would raise you as ours.”
My head spins with the amount of information shot in my direction at one go.
Xan is Dad’s son.
I’m Lewis’s daughter.
But we’ve switched fathers. It makes my head hurt.
“Then whose son is Kir?”
He smiles. “Mine and Jeanine’s. There’s nothing in there.”
Oh, okay.
“I know this is too much to take, Angel, and I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I don’t want you to kill your happiness because of adults’ mistakes.” He pats my hand. “You live in the present, okay?”
I’m an adult, too, and I’ve already made a lot of mistakes.
Most of all, hiding and allowing the fog to swallow me whole.
“So…” I gulp, the question burning at the back of my throat. “So this means Xander isn’t my brother?”
“Not at all.”
I smile as I give Dad the hug I’ve been meaning to. “I love you so much, Dad.”
Xander isn’t my brother.
Not at all.
Xander
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
I stare at my room’s door after Dad leaves. I might need some sort of alcohol for my ears because I think the almighty Lewis Knight just offered to listen.
It’s already weird as fuck he didn’t tell me to get my shit together, but to go as far as being an actual parent?
Who knew that concept existed in his vocabulary?
Dad is the last one on my mind, though. After our decision – or rather, his – the only thing I keep craving is a look at her, or even a peek would do.
I can be fucking selfish and ask for a touch, but that would be torture in the long run and I’ve been tortured enough through the years.
Apparently not enough, fucker, because you’re still thinking about it.
Shut up, brain.
I stand in front of my balcony, in the middle of my last spying session. However, the Reeds’ house is dark and silent, which means they’re probably asleep.
My fucker friends left earlier and Ronan made sure to wave at me from down there, ensuring I saw him.
Wanker.
The bright side, she was smiling and appeared happy, considering the way her eyes brightened and her shoulders didn’t droop.
I meant what I said in the hospital, she’s strong and will get through this. She’ll stand tall and embrace her scars and blemishes and everything in between. Kim has an unyielding spirit and while it broke, it can be mended now that Calvin and Elsa know.
It might take time, but she’ll be fine.
I’m the one who won’t.
I’m the one who’ll stay up every night thinking about her, then curse myself for thinking about her.
It’ll be an endless, vicious cycle I’ll have neither the power nor the will to stop.
Maybe I should go confess or something. Or is my sin too big for that? I don’t want the priest to drown me in holy water or chase me with a bat.
There’s another simple solution that’s hiding in my drawer in the form of a bottle. Dad banished all the liquor from the house and told Ahmed to donate them. The joke’s on them. I always have a hidden bottle somewhere.
If I’m going to quit, I might as well go out with a hurrah. Being sober for days sucks. The itch is like an urge that consumes me from the inside out. It won’t leave me until that burn tickles my throat.
The door opens and I sigh. Of course, Dad would return to ruin my fun. I understand the sudden hit with parenthood, but come on, we need a break from each other.
I need a break from hating my father because he’s her father.
I need a break from thinking he ruined my life.
I need a break from him. Full stop.
“I’m not interested in talks, Dad. Leave me the fuck alone.”
I expect him to reprimand me for ‘language’ in his stern politician voice, but there’s no answer.
Maybe he got the memo this time.
Small arms wrap around my waist from behind. “I’m not leaving you alone anymore.”
What the…? Am I getting drunk without alcohol now?
Either that or I’m going crazy, because nothing explains the soft hands resting on my stomach or the voice that should only visit in my dreams.
And my hell once I’m dead.
Because I have no doubt I’m going straight there. Do I regret it? For her, yes. For me, not at all.
I kind of made peace with my demons after long years of struggle, and they’re against the holy water idea.
My demons spill out to invade my space and whisper those thoughts that, while sinful, feel so fucking right.
One last time.
One last touch.
One last push into madness.
What do you have to lose?