“Who are you really?” he asked, now looking right at me.
“He’s nobody,” our mother muttered in a strained voice, and I knew I needed to leave.
“Don’t worry about it, kid, as your mom said, I’m nobody.” A ball of frustration twisted tighter in my throat.
Alex blew out a breath and moved towards me. “Nobody? Everyone is somebody.” The way he looked up at me without fear told me he was strong. I liked that.
“Let's just say, I’m nobody you need to worry about. I just dropped by with a message. Nice T-shirt by the way,” I replied, moving around him.
He glanced down and then smiled at me. “Thanks. I just ranked Elite, do you play?”
The whole situation suddenly felt like I was part of a dodgy Netflix drama. “Sometimes.” I then glanced across at my mother, her expression tugging at heartstrings I never knew I had. Without thinking, I added. “Look after your mom.”
I hoped my voice held zero emotion as my words echoed off the bare, bland walls. And I walked away and didn’t look back. I left my blood relatives behind: a woman who had turned her back on my existence and a boy who didn’t know I existed.
But I did it. And I’d faced my demons. So why did I still feel so bad?
Because I needed to find out who my old man was.Hewas the one I would settle the score with.
HARPER
When I heard footsteps coming from the hallway outside, I felt a cocktail of relief and guilt. The relief kicked in at the thought of us leaving that house, and the guilt—that was due to the small picture frame I had crammed into my purse.
After around ten minutes of sitting in that room, it started to remind me of our living room back home, the one at Radcliffe Manorbeforethe fire. Now there was only half of it standing. Phoenix’s mother's house even had a grandfather clock in the corner, which lookedexactlylike the one my father had brought home from an auction one day. Grief had started to peck its way to the surface as I was reminded of my once-perfect life, a life that had all been a lie.
My father had been a crook.
Beneath that façade of an honest and successful businessman, he was ugly and tainted. And unless I got help, I could end up following in his footsteps. Albeitonly half the way, I was a thief, but that didn’t and would never make me a murderer.
In my defense, after stewing in that room, haunted by those memories for over twenty minutes, I had needed to do something with my hands. So, I took the framed picture on a whim, promising myself that this would be the last time. I still rode that wave of exhilaration I usually felt by taking it, like a drug addict getting his fix.
It was only a portrait shot of Nix’s mother and her son, Nix’s half-brother, Alex. It wasn’t like I had stolen the family silver or anything. The mantel was crammed with images of him at all ages, and they had annoyed me. That happy family had taunted me in my painful silence as I stewed, wondering how Nix was coping.
My eyes scanned the other pictures of that family. How could his mom look so wholesome, staring down at her second child like a devoted mother, and yet turn her back on her firstborn? I screwed my nose up.
The image I had stolen looked like one of those you got with the frame. It could have beenanyone. I found it interesting that neither his mother nor half-brother lookedanythinglike my beautiful Phoenix.
I knew it was fucked up, but the need to take something had been too strong, and my grip on morality had slipped once again. I wondered what Nix would think when I revealed that shadow on my soul. When he learned I was a thief, fucked up, and a criminal.
As Phoenix appeared in the open doorway, I shot up off the couch and placed my half-full glass of lemonade on the table in front of me with a shaky hand. The fear that what I had done was written on my face clogged the back of my throat.
Nix must have seen something was wrong as he asked, “What’s up?”
I just smiled and shook my head like a lunatic. “Sorry, I was miles away.”
“You look as uncomfortable as I feel. Let’s get out of here,” Nix said before disappearing. A smoldering silence filled the air. From his expression and tone, I could tell he was upset, and a pang of something sharp stabbed into my chest. Ihatedseeing him hurt, even though I had expected it. A forced meeting with the mother who abandoned you almost fourteen years earlier wasn’t likely to go smoothly.
Grabbing my purse, I glanced briefly toward the gap on the mantel where the picture I had stolenusedto be. Another twinge of regret shot through me, but I pushed it away and went to follow Nix.
He stood alone in the hallway, gazing at one of the paintings by the door. I took in his stiff shoulders, noticing how tense they were instantly. Moving over, I placed my hand on his arm; my mouth suddenly struggling to obey my instruction to say something.
Clearing my throat, I managed to squawk, “How did it go?”
My touch seemed to knock Phoenix out of his trance as he glanced at my fingers against his sleeve. “As I expected, the woman doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Did she say that?”
“She didn’t need to.”
