Ducking my head, I reach inside and grab the piece of paper taped to the bottom. Nope, not a piece of paper. A photo. An old-school photo like Carter has in his fuck-chest. Only, this photo is of a man and a woman holding hands and smiling at the camera. The woman is pregnant and her green eyes are lit up with happiness. Her green eyes that look almost exactly like mine.
The woman in the photo is my mom.
Does that mean the man is my father?
I examine him closely, trying to find any sort of resemblance. His hair is brown like mine, and he has a few freckles on his nose. Other than that, he looks like some random guy. He does have a distinct scar near his hairline. I try to recall if I’ve ever met or seen a man who has a scar in the same place, but either I haven’t or I can’t remember.
Disappointment starts to sink in, until I flip over the photo. On the back, scribbled in neat handwriting, is a note.
To the love of my life,
Remember this day always. Remember the happiness.
Love,
Gregor.
Gregor.
Gregor.
Gregor.
Is that my dad’s name?
I might be able to research him if I had a last name. My last name is the same as my mom’s maiden name, so using that won’t work. I could ask my mom what his last name is, but she won’t give it to me. And she’ll get upset that I found the photo. I hate upsetting my mom. She’s all I have. Well, that and my aunt Bethany, but sometimes she can be a little crazy.
Where does that leave me? Nowhere really. Unless I want to search the entire town—maybe even the entire world—for a man with a scar. So, yeah, that basically leaves me nowhere.
Fifteen
Ensley
I ended up taping the photo back to the drawer. Don’t get me wrong; I wanted to keep it, but at the same time, I don’t want to upset my mom when she notices it’s missing. Besides, I’m not even positive the man in the photo is my father. Only, I sort of am. I can feel it in my soul. Plus, my mom was pregnant in the photo.
The photo haunts my mind for most of the day. But my thoughts get briefly distracted as I’m loading up the cleaning supplies in the car to head home when Carter sends me a photo of a girl sitting near a massive oak tree. She has a book in her hand, her head is tipped down, and leaves are falling to the ground around her. Her face is shadowed by her hair so I can’t tell who the girl is, but the area looks familiar. The tree, too.
Then it clicks. The girl is at the park, reading under a tree I often sit under.
Confused as to why he sent the photo to me, I reply by sending an image of a girl skipping in a field with questions marks above her head.
Moments later, a photo of a kitten surrounded by hearts pops into the thread.
I send back a random photo of a guy running into a wall.
He responds with a guy tilting his head to the side, his brows furrowed as someone bangs a book against his head.
I reply with a cross-eyed cat and dog DJing at a party. Then add one of a dude shaking his booty.
Carter: All right, you win. You’re the weirdest image texter ever.
Me: Hey, you’re the one who started it.
Carter: For your information, that first photo was actually a picture I took.
I scroll back to the photo and look it over again.
I’m surprised. It’s really good. The shadowing is just right. And the way he captured the girl, so at peace, makes me feel relaxed, too.
Me: You take photos?
Carter: It was for a photography class.
Me: You take photography?
How did I not know this? With how much I stare at him, I should have.
Carter: It was an extracurricular class. Not too many people knew I took it. My parents would probably flip out if they knew.
Me: Really? Because I’m pretty sure El’s taken photography classes.
Carter: El and I have different rules. They’re stricter with me.
Funny how I never noticed that, but when I think about, I can see it. Carter is supposed to be taking over the business, so he spends a lot of time in the office with his father. He also gets in trouble whenever he throws parties, yet El never does. Carter gets lectured about being presentable and getting good grades, while El has frequently griped about how much her parents ignore her.
Me: Sometimes parents are strict with their kids because they love them.
Carter: That sounds like some psych 101.
Me: My mom’s always throwing those sorts of remarks at me.
Carter: Has she taken psychology?
Me: Yeah, she did. She’s going to school right now to get her business degree.
Carter: Really? Your mom’s a business major?
His shock makes my jaw tick as I recall the remark he made the other day about my mom. I suddenly feel like I need to defend my mom’s honor or something.
Me: She’s part-owner of the cleaning company and thought it’d be helpful. She’s really smart. Smart enough to be a single mom, take care of me, go to school, and work. And she never complains to me about it, even though I know she must be exhausted. She’s actually pretty badass.
Carter: She sure sounds like it.
Me: She is.
Carter: I’m glad. It must be nice to have someone care about you that much.
Me: Yeah.
I pause, rereading his message, feeling as though the words carry an underlying meaning, as if he doesn’t believe anyone cares about him. That can’t be right. Not when he has his own fan club and basically has everything he’s ever wanted since the day he was born.
Carter: So, did you figure it out yet?
What?
Me: Figure out what?
Carter: Who the person is in the first photo I sent you.
I scroll back to the photo. At first, I’m lost. Am I supposed to know the girl? I can’t even see her face. Then a memory sparkles in the back of my mind and …
“Holy shit,” I whisper, leaning against the trunk of the car.
The girl in the photo is me, and the photo was taken quite a few months ago, before this whole “play Carter” plan was put into motion.
Me: You took a photo of me?
Carter: Not in a creepy way, I promise. I was at the park, working on my project, and I saw you sitting there. You looked so peaceful and gorgeous, and the angles and shadows were casting so perfectly over you, so I snapped a few photos. That one turned out really good, so I submitted it for my final project. I got an A, btw, so thanks. ;)
I can’t help but smile. I can only imagine what I look like right now. All goofy and silly and swoony. Fortunately, no one’s around to see it.
Me: Why? I didn’t really do anything.
Carter: Um, yeah, you were the focal point of the photo.
I drag my fingers through my hair and shake my head, utterly lost. He took a photo of me. I was the focal point of his photo. I looked peaceful and gorgeous. What the fuck is happening right now? This can’t be real, right?
The damn photo sure is real, though.
“You ready to go?” My mom exits the house, towing a vacuum behind her.
I rip my attention off my phone and nod. “Yep.”
She eyeballs me funnily. “Whatcha doing?”
I shrug. “Just waiting for you.”
Her gaze descends to my phone. “Who’re you texting?”
I shrug again. “No one.”
She grins as she hikes down the driveway toward the car, the vacuum wheels clanking against the gravel. “Well, no one sure knows how to make you look flushed.”
I place my palm to my cheek. “It’s from the sun.”
She pops open the trunk. “Sure it is.”
“It is,” I insist, ducking into the car, mostly to hide my flushed cheeks.
As I’m buckling my seatbelt, another message pings through.
Carter: I didn’t scare you away, did I?
Sort of. But since I’m supposed to be trying to seduce him, I go
another route.
Me: No. Sorry, I’m still at work and trying to clean up so I can go home.
Carter: All right, I’ll let you go, then. See you tonight.
Me: Okay.
I blow out a trapped breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. God, that conversation was intense. Too intense. So intense I almost forgot none of this is real.
It makes me worry what the hell is going to happen while we’re out on this date. And if I’ll be able to keep my head in the game.
Sixteen
Carter
I’m a fucking weirdo sometimes. I know this, yet I can’t seem to help it.
I followed Ensley today. I convinced myself it was okay because Gregor told me to do whatever it takes to get to know her. But this isn’t the first time I’ve followed and watched her. I have issues. Big time. I seriously need help.
Of course, when I saw her smile after she realized the photo was of her, it made my crazy behavior worth it. Her smile is gorgeous. Her smile is perfect. And it was a smile for me, even if she didn’t realize it.
All during the drive home, I’m grinning like a moron. But my smile fades when I arrive at my house and note the expensive, black car parked in the driveway. Great. One of my dad’s clients is here.
To avoid running into anyone, I slip in the back door and head up to my room to get ready for my date with Ens tonight.
I’m getting ready for a date. It’s a strange feeling since I’ve never been much of a dater. The most surprising thing about the experience is how nervous I am. I’m normally not a nervous guy and wonder if it’s a normal reaction. Does everyone get nervous on dates? Or am I just nervous because I’m going out with Ensley, a girl I’ve been obsessed with for a while.
Obsessed? Fuck, I sound like a stalker. What the hell is wrong with me?
As I’m putting on my watch, I get a text from my father, telling me to come down to his office immediately. I don’t want to go, but when my gaze falls to the scar marking my palm, I drag my ass down there.
I knock first. I always knock first otherwise consequences follow.
“Come in,” my father calls out, not sounding happy, which basically means he sounds like himself.
I open the door and walk in. Then I falter.
He’s sitting at his desk, leaning back in a chair, smoking a cigar. He’s not alone either. A large man with blonde hair and wearing a black suit is standing in the middle of the room with two very large dudes looming beside him.
The sight of the man makes me cringe. Winston Maerriellie, leader of the Fareland mafia, along with his bodyguards. It’s not the first time he’s been in my house, but I wish it were the last. Anyone who knows Winston Maerriellie—which you’d have to be living under a rock to not know who he is—knows it’s never a good thing when he’s around. He’s the most corrupt man in town. Hell, probably in the state. My dad has gotten him acquitted of murder so many times I’ve lost track. He’s evil. Plain and simple.
“So, do we have a deal?” he asks my father.
My father nods. “It’s a deal.”
As Winston Maerriellie turns to leave, his eyes land on me. He gives me a strange look. “Carter?”
I nod, despising how nervous I am and wondering how on earth my father thinks I can run his business when I can’t even stand being in the same room with men like this.
“Hmmm… You’ve grown up from the last time I saw you.” He rubs his jawline. “You look different. More sturdier, like maybe you’re built for this world after all.”
I try not to frown. “Thanks.”
He gives me one last final, strange look, as if he can’t quite figure out something, then walks out the door with his bodyguards.
I let a gradual exhale ease from my lips then turn to my father.
He eyes me over. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah.” I don’t bother mentioning the date, since he told me a long time ago that dating is pointless and I need to just fuck every girl I can until I find myself a nice trophy wife.
He takes a puff off his cigar. “I hope you’re not planning on staying out too late. You start work on Monday.” Smoke exhales from his lips as he grins. “You’ll need your rest. You’re going to be working a lot. In fact, for the entire summer, I own you.”
Like he doesn’t already.
Little does he know that in a few weeks, I’ll be gone. Well, if things work out the way I plan.
“Okay.” I stuff my hands into my pockets as my fingers begin to tremble.
He rests his cigar in the ashtray with his eyes fixed on me. “You seem nervous. Any particular reason why?”
I shake my head. “I’m not nervous.”
His gaze bores into me. “You sure seem like it.”
I shrug, resisting the urge to shift my weight. “Well, I don’t know why.”
He drums his fingers against the desk, his gaze drifting to the wall that displays his knife collection. “It’s been a while since I took one of them down. Maybe I need to.” His gaze zeroes in on me. “Maybe I need to remind you what happens when you don’t obey me.”
My fingers curl into fists, the scar feeling as though it’s been ripped open. “No sir. I don’t need reminding. I remember clearly.”
“You sure about that?”
I nod. I fucking hate that I have to. Fucking hate how weak I am around him.
I fucking hate him.
He stares at me for what feels like hours. “Fine, go.” He picks up the cigar. “Make sure to be ready to go by six o’clock Monday morning. If you’re a minute late, you’ll be punished. And be prepared to get your hands dirty. It’s about time you learn what it takes to run my company.”
My jaw clenches. “Okay.”
I turn and walk out of his office. I keep walking and walking and walking until I make it to the other side of the house. Then I slip into the workout room, close the door, and bash my hand against a punching bag over and over again. I hit it for so long my knuckles scrape open.
Then I sink to the floor and drag my hand down my face.
I can’t stand this anymore.
I need out.
I’m going to get out.
I just wish I didn’t have to do what I’m about to do. Wish there was another way.
But right now, besides working for Gregor, all I can see are dead ends that lead me right back to my father.
That leaves me with only one choice.
Seventeen
Ensley
“You’re awfully quiet today,” my mom says as she drives us home after a long, exhausting day of work.
“I’m just tired,” I lie, not really feeling tired. I’m wired. Wired about the photo. Wired about my date. Wired about so many things that my mind feels like it’s spinning out of control.
She turns into our apartment complex. “Then how about we order in and stream Netflix? That sounds relaxing, right?”
“Actually, I can’t.” I pick at my fingernail, unsure how to approach the matter at hand. “I have plans tonight.”
“Oh?” She steers the car into a parking space. “Is El coming over, or are you going over there?”
I unfasten my seatbelt and reach for the door. “Actually, I’m going out on a date.” Then I dive out of the car and haul ass toward the apartment.
“You have a date!” She chases after me, her sneakers hammering against the concrete. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I rush up the stairway, taking the stairs two at a time. “I did tell you … just barely.”
“This isn’t last minute kind of news. I feel like you should’ve told me sooner.”
“Maybe I just got asked out.” I reach the top of the stairs, out of breath.
Man, I’m out of shape.
She arrives a moment later, equally out of breath. “Did you?”
“Umm …” I hate lying to her. “No …”
She grasps the railing as she wipes sweat from her brow. “So when did you?”
“A few days ago.”
I dig the house keys out of my pocket.
She sidesteps, blocking my way as I move toward the door. “Tell me who the mystery guy is,” she demands, but smiles excitedly. “I can’t believe you’re going out on your first date. This is so exciting.”
She may be gushing now, but that’s going to change when I tell her who the mystery guy is. I wonder how much she’d flip out if I told her I was only going on the date because I’m helping Elodie get back at her brother.
“Yeah, it is,” I agree, sounding completely opposite.
She frowns. “Why don’t you seem more happy?”
I shrug, fiddling with the key. “Because I know you’re going to get upset when you hear who I’m going on the date with.”
“I highly doubt that. I’m just happy you are finally going on a date.”
“You might want to wait until you hear who it is before you start making bold statements like that.”
“Well, tell me, then.” She motions for me to get a move on.
I restlessly drag the key up and down my palm as I mumble, “Carter Everlend.”
Her eyes pop wide. “Elodie’s brother?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” I wait for her to lecture me, chew me out. I know she must loathe Carter. Sure, she doesn’t know about our history—what he said to me in third grade and that he’s teased me ever since then—but she works for his family. And I’ve heard Carter say shit about the cleaning people. It was one of the main reasons I decided to play this whole make-Carter-fall-in-love-with-me game to begin with.
My mom falls into a moment of quiet contemplation, and then a small smile touches her lips. “That’s not too bad for your first date.”
I blink at her. “What?”
She smiles as she retrieves her keys from her purse. “Carter seems like a decent guy, at least from what I’ve seen.” She unlocks the door and walks into the apartment, leaving me out on the porch with my jaw hanging to my knees. Then I snap out of my stupor and rush after her.
“Wait? Are we talking about the same person? Carter is Elodie’s brother. You know that, right?”