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Addilyn
“Addilyn,” Mother called from the foyer. Her fake, sugary sweet voice pulled my attention from my cell’s screen to make me roll my eyes. “They’ve arrived!”
“Shit,” I muttered while scrambling off my bed, having completely forgotten about our dinner company.
She’d told me to dress when I got home from school, but I’d been too busy scrolling my Chit’n Chat account and catching up with the latest makeup trends while chowing down on Swedish Fish.
A quick glance in my full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door deepened my frown, but I didn’t have time to do as I’d been told three hours ago. I straightened my uniform’s plaid skirt and white button-down blouse with its stain from the spaghetti the high school’s cafeteria had served for lunch.
“Addilyn!”
Damnit. With how frequently she tossed out punishment, you’d think I’d have learned the lesson of obeying the first time. I’m so screwed.
Formal dinner in a too-short skirt and rumpled, stained shirt. Mother’s bitch mode would commence in three, two…
The front doorbell gonged as I scurried down the carpeted hallway toward the stairs, counting down to my doom. I paused at the second-floor landing to peek below into the grand foyer, ready to put on a bubbly, dazzling smile that might help with Mother’s condescending eye once she caught sight of my attire.
But what waited in the foyer below kept my lips flatlined.
Mother kissed cheeks with a tall man dressed in a suit and yellow tie—her favorite color—the typical type of guy she’d been bringing home for as long as I could remember. Dark hair and clean-shaven, just like my father had been.
But she planned for this one to replace my father for real—she had all but told me the night before.
Lloyd Destil. Newly arrived in Anchorage from sunny California with a handful of…wait for it…yellow flowers in a bouquet big enough to please any woman who swooned over such shit.
“Darling,” he murmured to Mother, kissing her cheek and whispering something against her ear that turned her cheeks pink.
Gag.
He’d known Mother for all of, what? Two months? Three? The man had no idea what hell awaited him if he decided to stick around.
“They’re beautiful,” Mother breathed over the flowers, looking up at him through her false eyelashes. “And my favorite color! You remembered.”
“I want to be your sunshine like you are mine,” Mr. Destil told her with a charming smile.
From my lofty height above him, I rolled my eyes. Mother’s newest lover appeared decent enough, I’d give him that. Based on the fine-cut suit he wore, he had money. Broad shoulders and what some girls my age might consider a handsome face.
But there was something about him—
A shiver licked over my skin, goosebumps broke out along my arms, and my head jerked toward the open door beyond the lovey-dovey couple.
The younger Destil that Mother had told me about stepped across the threshold. Seventeen-year-old Gideon. My soon-to-be stepbrother. In and out of juvie, anger issues—I’d heard it all, and being Mother’s pure sweetheart, I was told to keep my distance. I was not to allow him to influence me in any way, shape, or form.
And talk about shape and form. He was drop. Dead. Gorgeous.
Of course, you are.I huffed from my hiding place while drinking him in. All thoughts of his father vanished as I rubbed at my arms to calm the feverish bumps his appearance had brought on.
Dark hair an unruly mess and a little too long for Mother’s tastes topped his tall height. His scruffy jawline was set firm, a frown denting the tanned skin between his eyebrows. He’d dressed for dinner in a suit like his father, but he didn’t look pleased about it or the fact he’d been brought north, far away from sunshine and warmth.
Almost an adult though, he wouldn’t have to truly deal with a new parent like I would at fifteen.
Lovely. Time to meet the homewreckers.
Not that our home could be any more wrecked.
Telling myself Gideon’s good looks didn’t matter to me, didn’t bother me, I lifted my chin and waltzed around the wall I’d hid behind to step onto the landing, feigning confidence as Mother greeted Gideon. I grabbed hold of the railing and forced my hesitant feet downstairs when I usually would’ve scampered with the smile Mother preferred.
