AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Beatrice scoops the soup into a bowl. “But life is full of surprises.”
“It is.” The memory of my father surfaces in my mind, and I don’t know why because I haven’t thought about him in a long time. “My father was supposed to pick me up from school one Friday. He said he bought tickets for us to see Cats on Broadway. I was so excited. I waited outside on the steps after school, and watched all the other kids’ parents pick them up to take them home.” I brush an imaginary crumb off the countertop. “The principal had to call my mom to come pick me up. I didn’t understand what happened, and Mom wouldn’t tell me anything until we got home. He’d packed his bags and left.” I shrug. “I don’t even know if he bought the tickets to the play, or if it was a lie.”
“Why did he leave?”
“Mom said he was sick. I couldn’t understand, and I begged her to explain. But she didn’t tell me until I was in high school. He was an addict.” I let out a sardonic laugh. “I didn’t even know. I thought everything was wonderful in my home. Meanwhile, my father was doing drugs.”
“We don’t see the evils of the world when we’re kids.” Beatrice squeezes my hand. “I bet that made you feel like you had to take care of your mother.”
I nod. “I swore I’d always be there for her, and that I’d be so good, she’d never need anyone but me.”
“That’s a lot of pressure for a little girl.”
It was. “We never saw him again. After that, it was like I couldn’t trust anything. If my own father had fooled me, how could I put my faith in anyone else?”
Beatrice fills another bowl. “Not everyone will do what your father did, Charly. Don’t base your decisions off of the actions of one person. That’s what I keep trying to tell my Bryce.” She shakes her head. “Just because some people let you down doesn’t mean everyone will.”
I’m lost in thought for the next two hours—about where Dad is right now; about Mom, and how hard I tried to control her health; about where Bryce is tonight, and what made him freak out when he thought I was afraid of him yesterday. I help serve the guests, and clean up the kitchen in between slurping up spoonfuls of Bryce’s delicious soup. By the end of dinner, I’m looking forward to curling up at the bay window with a good book to escape reality for a while.
“Do you mind if I check out the library?” I gesture to the room next to the main lobby with tall bookcases lining the walls.
“Of course, my dear. Take as many books as you’d like.” Beatrice wraps me in her embrace. “What do you say we head into town tomorrow? I have a few things I need to get before the weekend, and I want to show you a few of the boutiques while we’re there.”
“Of course. I’d love to.”
She claps her hands before turning to make her way to the stairs. “Have a good night.”
Ten minutes later, I’m heading back to the house with a book tucked under my arm. The path is dimly lit with only a streak of moonlight peeking through the trees. I’m not scared being out here at night by myself—New Yorker, remember?—but I’m also not expecting anyone to be outside when I reach the backyard. So, my shoulders jump when a splash sounds from the pool.
I slink against the wall of the inn, and peer around the corner … and my mouth falls open.
Bryce stands at the edge of the pool with his hands on his hips, facing away from me. Water runs down his thick legs from his red swim trunks, which are soaked and plastered to his magnificent, muscular ass. Rippling muscles in his back lead up into the wide expanse of his shoulders. He looks like a Greek god, Poseidon himself staring down into the water.
But that’s not what has my lips parting on a silent gasp.
A long bumpy line of raised skin trails down the middle of his spine, a streak of imperfection across his flawless complexion. It’s a serious scar, and it sends a shiver of horror through me.
What happened?
I inch closer to get a better look, not wanting him to catch me creeping in the bushes.
But then something slithers against my bare ankle, and I let out an ear-piercing shriek.
Bryce
I whip around, and move as fast as my legs will carry me.
I know that scream. I was deafened by it earlier today right before I took a punch to the face.
My heart stops when I spot Charly on the ground.
I crouch down, gritting through the pain shooting through my right leg. “What happened? Are you all right? Where are you hurt?”
Her shoulders shake, and my eyes strain through the dim moonlight to survey her injuries. She turns her face to me, tears streaking down her cheeks, and she presses her palm to her stomach.
My chin jerks back. “Are you …”
She snorts, and clamps her hand over her mouth.
