We thought about every detail but somehow forgot to figure out what we were going to do with that damn dog. Though I know Tristan and Elena won’t complain, they’ve been begging me for one ever since we watchedHomeward Bounda month ago.
So much for wanting to avoid attachments.
Reality is brutal. People and things come and go, leaving nothing but a hollow space in your mind where they used to be—which is why abducting Taryn was the best option. A way to protect my delicate family and young siblings from any further heartache after losing the two people who were always supposed to be there.
Until they weren’t.
After everything I’ve studied about Taryn Meyers, this method keeps her from escaping once she’s committed. Because once she meets Elena and Tristan, she’s bound to get attached. Her nature—the teaching part of her soul—is compassionate and warm.
Maybe it’s a form of manipulation, but sometimes, we resort to eccentric methods to protect the ones we love.
But I know her history. She floats from one place to the next, barely staying long enough to create meaningful connections. Taryn can’t stay still for long, and if we didn’t take the measures we did, she would bolt.
I won’t fucking let that happen.
She was walking through life like a ghost anyway.
But she’s our little ghost now.
After my mom’s disappearance and seeing my dad thrown behind bars for being the monster he is, this family is fragile. And I am barely holding us together. We need someone who can help. Someone who is steady. Jessica leaves for college soon and we didn’t have time to waste trying to convince Taryn to work for us. We did things the traditional way at first, going throughrésumés of candidates who may have been a decent fit. But we weren’t looking fordecent. We weren’t looking for someone who would be temporary.
We needed someone more permanent.
Taryn fits the role perfectly, even if she’s being forced into it.
The twins gaze a hole into the side of my head, and I face them. “Fine, I’ll go get the damn dog.”
Cameron straightens, folding his arms over his chest with a satisfied look crossing his features.
“But…” I warn. “She’s not, under any circumstances, allowed to have it in the house until it becomes better acquainted with the kids. I’ll keep it around my cabin until then.”
“Wow, you hear that, Cam?” Brennan smirks. “Colten’s using Elena and Tristan as an excuse because he’s afraid of the dog.” He chuckles. Some of the smoke from the cigarette gets sucked down wrong, and he hunches over, having a coughing fit as Cam slaps his back.
Asshole.
My truck rollsto a stop in the driveway of the old yellow house, my pulse hammering as I give it the first good glance since I bought it from the Donahues three months ago.
Our grandparents—the Donahues—no longer wanted to have an attachment to the Lindenvale name because of my father, and finally put it up for sale after packing up and not looking back. After Jane’s disappearance, my mother’s parents left everything behind to start over. Left their home to rot and wither away just like their hearts after losing their only daughter.
The speculations about Lindenvale Hill are dark. Some people think she ran, leaving her husband and children behind,since her body and car have never been found. Others believe something more sinister lurks behind the fence and through the miles and miles of forest and orchard. They think the only way to learn the truth is to listen to the trees when the wind blows through them, as if their rustling branches and leaves are whispers.
It’s a bunch of bullshit.
And because of all the whispered theories and secrets, the property I once loved is now plagued.
This home, my grandparents’ house, has been unoccupied for four years. The paint is slowly chipping away, and the yard has been left to be reclaimed by nature. The deck and wood floors are aged and whine under any amount of weight or pressure.
I wonder what her first thought was when she looked at this place.
When I posted the rental on Zillow, I used old photos—pictures that made the place appear like a quaint and peaceful home. I carefully crafted an email that was a convincing advertisement. The hook of the rental was the unbelievably good deal on rent.
I needed her to want it.
It’s a shithole. It is. But she wasn’t going to be living here long anyway. It was just one step of the plan and served its purpose.
Now, I don’t want to look at it anymore. All I see when I stare out the passenger window is an impeccable yard, the grass thick and green below the tire swing my brothers and I used to mess around on. I can imagine the ghost of childhood Jess sprinting out the front door and down the steps of the deck, wanting to join us like she always did because hanging with her brothers was the only place she ever wanted to be.
When I open the door and finally step outside the truck, cheerful voices blend with the breath of the wind blowingthrough the willow leaves. My parents’ and grandparents’ laughs drift from the backyard, coating the back of my throat with unwelcome emotion.
