Or will Allie Parker come between two billionaires?
Knowing Taylor’s changing the subject to keep the focus off her, I take a seat next to her and help her put the attention on someone else for a little while. “This is our current problem,” I say, gesturing to the article in her hands.
Taylor glances at Allie, who’s sitting across from us in the oversized chair, then at Micah, who’s resting next to my half-sister, on the armrest, and finally turns to face me again. “Sorry, I’m confused. What exactly am I looking at here?”
“For the second time in a month…” Micah thrusts a hand through his jet-black hair; his dark brows are pinched over his bluish-gray eyes. “You’re looking at the tabloids actually getting something right.”
“Wait. What?” Taylor’s head swings around to me, eyes narrowed. “You were mad about them dating?”
“Mad?” Allie barks a laugh.
The side of Micah’s mouth lifts, as that’s not exactly how it played out. Micah proved himself worthy of my baby sister. That’s the only reason he’s still alive, so mad might be putting it lightly.
I shrug my answer, understanding Taylor’s surprise, considering Allie had no qualms about my dating her best friend. But I’m not Allie, or nearly as rational. Besides, Allie had been under my protection, given that I was tasked to raise her after her father and our mother died in a plane crash when Allie was fifteen years old. I’d become her guardian, which included keeping an eye on the men in her life.
“Hypocrite much?” Taylor remarks, lifting a brow at me.
“It is what it is,” I reply, draping an arm over the back of the couch, not defending myself. I would never apologize for being protective of Allie or Taylor.
Taylor snorts at me, then focuses back on the page in her hands. “Okay, but explain this, I mean, even if you were mad at first, why is that so bad? There could be worse things written about you in the tabloids.”
“While that’s very true,” I respond, not too happily, “few people knew that at first I wasn’t thrilled over the idea of Micah and Allison dating. So the fact that the tabloid knows something so personal is worrisome.”
Allie adds, heavy concern in her voice, “And it’s just a weird story to focus on.”
Micah nods. “They could’ve juiced it up, making it far more interesting with lies.”
Taylor cocks her head, her damp ponytail dripping water onto her bare arm. “But they’re not; they’re sticking to the truth.”
“That’s right,” I say.
Obviously reading between the lines, Taylor begins to frown. “Which I guess can only mean…”
“There’s a traitor among us,” I confirm.
Chapter 2
Taylor
A traitor. The tabloids. Darius.
After sleeping in and taking full advantage of a quiet Sunday morning, I had a quick breakfast before heading out the door. Now, after I park my old, faithful black Honda Civic at the curb, I sigh at my rambling thoughts and walk down the street in Glen Park. Just when life seems complicated enough, fate somehow tests me further. But as I pass under a big oak tree, I remind myself that today isn’t about all the things I can’t control. It’s about being in the one place that’s safe. The one place where nothing in the world can touch me.
When I reach the corner of the street, I take in the white two-story Victorian row house with a smile. My home hasn’t changed much in the twenty-five years my parents have lived here, except a window or two that the neighborhood kids broke playing baseball and a few coats of paint over the years to update the house. But that’s the house’s charm. It’s home to me. It’s the one solid in my life that never changes.
Like I’ve done so many times before, I rush forward, taking the dark wooden stairs two at a time, passing by the white pillars and stopping at the blue front door. So much love existed in this house, I swear whenever I come home I can almost feel the energy vibrating like the house is going to explode and spill out into the sunny day.
I grip the cool bronze handle and open the front door. “I’m home,” I call.
“Taylor?” Mom’s surprised voice comes from the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s me.” I shut the door behind me and kick off my flats, inhaling the woodsy scent of potpourri that my mother puts in every room of our house.
I hear the floorboards creak beneath her feet before I see her rushing into the living room, a big smile on her round face. She wipes her flour-covered hands on her apron, which does little to remove the flour. “Oh, I had no idea you were coming home, honey.” She gets closer, then stops dead, scanning my face. It takes another second before she has her hands on my shoulders, and her hazel eyes, the same color as mine, slowly widen. “What happened to you? Did you get in a car accident?”
Instead of staring into her eyes when I lie, I move in to hug her. “It happened just the other day. I was driving in a friend’s car, but don’t worry, the car took the brunt of the hit. I’ve got some bruises, nothing more.” My mother cannot know about Shawn. She couldn’t handle such news.
In the world of my mother, Pam, and my father, Jason Erickson, life has come with rainbows, sunshine, and unicorns during their thirty-year marriage. I have the parents every kid wanted. Mom stayed at home and Dad worked a nine-to-five job. There wasn’t a game, a recital, or anything throughout my childhood that they missed. And if it wasn’t for Mom’s endometriosis, I imagine they would’ve have many more children after me.