As those dulled eyes land on me, I feel my back go ramrod straight. Awareness zips down my spine, and I want to offer a friendly smile, but I’m stuck.
“Kaden, my boy!” Mr. Wilder’s voice projects across the front room. “Come say hello.”
The boy reaches the bottom step, tucking his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. “Hello.”
His voice is monotonous—uninterested. He clearly doesn’t have an opinion on us moving in either way. We aren’t intruders to him.
I feel myself relaxing a fraction. This isn’t so bad. I lift my hand in a small wave, testing a smile. “Hi. I’m Melody—”
“I know who you are.” He shuts me down quickly, his expression remaining cool.
“Kaden,” Mr. Wilder warns. “Don’t be rude to her.”
The boy’s eyes flicker between the three of us as if he’s gauging our reactions before his face resets and he turns his gaze on me. “I’m sorry.”
It’s a sterile apology, feeling cold and robotic. There isn’t an ounce of sincerity behind his words, but it doesn’t shake me the way I thought it would. Seeing him up close is much different. I can tell he isn’t actually being rude, and it melts those nerves away.
I smile warmly. “It’s okay.”
The boy blinks once. Then twice before turning his attention to his father. “I’m going to the creek.”
Mr. Wilder sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You and that creek. Can you at least introduce yourself?”
Kaden gives both my mother and me a glance. “I’m Kaden. It’s nice to meet you.” He turns on his heel, trudging towards the glass sliding doors of the terrace without a glance back.
As the door slides shut, Mr. Wilder apologizes. “I’m sorry about my son. He doesn’t do well with social situations.”
Mom places a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes him. “It’s fine. This is a big change. He’ll come around to it.”
The man nods. “Melody, your room is on the third floor, the last door to the left. Why don’t you go and look at the space? It’s a blank canvas for now, but we can decorate it however you want.”
I look at Mom, waiting for her approval before she nods and ushers me up the stairs. Low conversation starts between the two adults, and I pinpoint Kaden’s name a few times as I scale the steps slowly. I take in the sentimental photos lining the wall, catching a glimpse into the life my new brother lived before me.
In one, a woman with dark hair and a wide smile squishes her cheek against his. She looks radiant and beautiful, while the boy at her side appears to be quietly feigning interest. The left corner of his mouth is lifted, but his joy doesn’t reach his eyes. The next is the family of three posing in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Mr. Wilder has a hand around the woman’s waist and the other resting on Kaden’s shoulder. The couple grins broadly, enjoying their vacation, while their son looks as if he would rather be anywhere else.
There’s a mass of an untold story with every new picture, and each time, I’m drawn to the boy with a twinge of sadness in his gaze.
I tilt my head at one of the photos, trying to read his expression, but it’s something my brain can’t process. There are layers to Kaden, and I have no clue how close he’s going to allow me.
As I reach the third floor, a long corridor of doors stretches in front of me. The one at the very end of the hallway has a neon yellow and black caution tape forming an X over it. There’s a stolen ‘Do Not Enter’ street sign hanging in the center.
I snort at Kaden’s attempt to keep everyone out of his space. My door is resting beside his, completely blank. I step into my new space, pleasantly surprised to find a balcony with wide glass doors. There’s a blue curtain to draw over them to block out the light, but I don’t bother as I step into the natural warmth bathing the room.
The bed is huge and far too big for just me, with hulking wooden posts that extend and almost touch the high ceiling. There’s a cute vanity stained a cherry color and a desk with a rolling chair. The closet is open, and I blanch at the walk-in space.
It’s the size of another room! I definitely don’t have enough clothes to fill it…
I do a spin, fully taking in my home. It’s so different from my small room back at our trailer, but it’s nice. A little lonely…
But if this makes Mom happy, then I’m happy.
Chapter three
Melody
MomandIspentthe majority of the afternoon unpacking. She tried to pry room designs out of me, but the thought of changing this place so quickly feltwrong. Like I was intruding.
I stayed quiet as she rambled about painting the walls pink or tying my ribbons around the posters of the bed. Even when she joyously mentioned changing the blue curtain to a sheer pink one, I only nodded along with her.
