“This will be quite a change, but I think you’ll like it.”
I doubt it. I just got here and already hate it.
Two and a half hours later, we finally arrive at the house. I thought it’d be gated off and secluded, but instead it’s in a neighborhood on a street lined with other houses.
Harley pulls in and parks in front of a large house that looks more like an office building. It’s two stories with a plain flat roof. The sides are covered in white stucco, and the windows don’thave any kind of trim. It’s one of those modern-looking houses that I’m sure cost a fortune, but it’s not my style. Actually, I’ve never really thought about what type of house I’d want, but I know it wouldn’t be one like this.
“The front isn’t much to look at,” Harley says, “but the back is spectacular. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the ocean.” He opens his door. “I’ll get your things.”
All I have is my backpack. Everything else Brock had shipped here.
Harley and I stand at the door. He reaches into his pocket and hands me a key. “Forgot to give this to you earlier.” He nods at the door. “Go ahead.”
“Shouldn’t we ring the bell? Or at least knock first?”
He smiles. “This is your home now. You don’t need to knock.”
I unlock the door and go inside. I’m surrounded by tall, white walls, the only color coming from a few very large paintings like the kind I used to see at MOMA back home. I like the paintings. At least Brock has decent taste in art.
“I need to be heading back,” Harley says. He holds his hand out. “Nice meeting you.”
“You too,” I say, shaking his hand.
He hands me a card. “If you ever need a ride, give me a call.”
“Won’t do me much good living out here in the wilderness.”
He laughs. “The car service has an office in San Diego. I can set you up with a driver.”
“Thanks.” I shove his card in my pocket.
“Good luck,” he says as he leaves.
Good luck?Is he implying I’ll need luck to survive here?
Stepping farther into the house, I see a hallway to my right that leads to some bedrooms, and to the left is a staircase and another hallway that looks like it goes to the kitchen. Directly in front of me is the living room. My jaw drops when I see the view.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, slowly walking to the wall of windows that line the back of the house. Just beyond it is the ocean. Foamy white waves and deep blue water. I look down and see a large patio with a plexiglass wall surrounding it, probably so you don’t fall down the cliff we seem to be on.
Going over to the glass door that leads to the back, I walk outside and am hit by the wind off the ocean. It feels wet, like a mist covering my face.
I walk to the edge of the patio. Looking down over the plexiglass railing, I see a wall of sharp, jagged rocks that extends along the entire beach.
Out of nowhere, I feel a hand yanking me back and a deep voice yelling, “Who the fuck are you?”
Chapter 4
I whip around and see a guy behind me.
“I’m Rumor,” I say, yanking my arm back. “Who are you?”
But I already know the answer. He’s Brock’s son. I can see the resemblance. They both have that sharp square jawline and perfectly symmetrical face. Aside from that, he doesn’t look like Brock. He’s got thick blond hair and blue eyes, which must’ve come from his mother. Brock has dark hair and dark brown eyes.
I’m not sure which cousin this is, but I’m guessing he’s the younger one — Trystan. Brock said the older one plays football, and this guy looks too lean and thin to play football. He looks more like a soccer player. A preppy one in his white polo shirt and navy-blue shorts.
He folds his arms over his chest. “So you’re the mysterious cousin.”
“Mysterious?”
