A few hours later, I wake up to the sound of a door slamming. I sit up straight in the bed and only then do I remember I’m in Deion’s house and not Easton’s. My heart did a somersault, and now it’s back to normal … but for some reason, I’m still on edge.
I push the blanket off me and get up to peer down the staircase opening. Should I pull it up and close the hatch, pretend I’m not here? I don’t know who just came in. It could be anyone. For all I know, it could be Easton searching for me. If he finds me here, he’ll probably hurt Deion.
That thought causes shivers to run along my spine.
No, I won’t let it happen. Besides, Easton doesn’t know where I am. Barely anyone does. I’ve only spoken to two people since I disappeared—one of whom was a drugged-out boy who I didn’t give my name to and bolted away from. So how would Easton ever find me here? Impossible.
I take a deep breath and then go down the staircase. No point in hanging out in the attic room if someone’s here.
“Charlotte?” It’s Deion, and a smile appears on my face the moment he peeks up the staircase from the hallway downstairs. “I’m back.”
“Hi,” I reply, grabbing the tiny stairs and pushing them up because it’s blocking the rest of the doors, including the bathroom. I close the hatch and pull down the pullover that somehow made its way up my neck.
“I brought lunch!” Deion calls out from the kitchen.
I go downstairs, but on the way, I pause and stare at the pink boots by the doorway.
What the …?
I don’t recall Deion wearing those. Or him having such small feet.
Do we have another visitor?
I go farther down the stairs, toward the fishy scent coming from the kitchen. My breath falters a bit when I spot the little girl sitting at the table. She smiles when she sees me, and her frizzy hair bounces a little as she waves. “Hey, Charlotte!”
She pronounces my name in such a strange way with the emphasis on the o and the t … but I like it.
Deion makes a face and gives me an awkward smile. “I’ve got fish, want some?”
“Um … sure,” I say, still clutching the doorjamb.
“Ashanti, pak eens een bord,” Deion says.
Ashanti … why does that sound familiar?
The little girl immediately runs to the cupboards and grabs another plate and a glass of water, which she places on the table right beside her plate. “Kom bij mij zitten,” she says, patting the chair.
“What is she saying?” I ask, confused.
“She wants you to sit with her,” Deion explains, smiling. He glances at her as one would look at his most prized possession. The same way Easton would look at me. Is she his … daughter?
I do what she asks, albeit with a little hesitation. Deion throws some fried fish on my plate, and says, “Kibbeling.”
“What?”
“That’s what it’s called. It’s fried codfish. You eat it with garlic sauce.” He grabs a clear plastic cup that contains a white sauce and places it down in front of me. “Here, try it. It’s delicious.”
“Thanks,” I say, and I pour some on the fish and take a bite. “Mmm …”
“Good, right?” Deion says.
“Mijn favoriet!” the girl says, and she stands up straight while stirring the fish through the cup.
“Ashanti …” Deion sighs, tugging at her arm. “Zitten als je eet.”
I can barely understand what they’re saying, but I won’t ask them to speak English either. This is their home, after all, and I’m only a guest. And a happy one too because this fish is delicious.
“Ashanti, als je wil, kun je je Engels oefenen,” Deion says. “Charlotte spreekt alleen Engels.”
“English?” Ashanti mumbles, gazing at me as though I’m an alien. “Okay!”
“I told her she can try out her English skills with you,” Deion tells me, winking. “So help a girl out.”
I grin. He’s only trying to make it easier for me, but he’s pretending it’s for her. Cute.
“I can speak English,” Ashanti says. “Good, huh?”
“Awesome,” I say. “Because I don’t understand a word of Dutch.”
Both of them laugh now.
“What? It’s the truth,” I say.
“So you’re not from here?” Ashanti asks.
“Nope. America,” I reply.
She plays with her fish. “But what are you doing here?”
What a curious little thing. And unfortunately, it’s now piqued Deion’s curiosity too.
“I was here for … a man.” It’s not safe to mention the debt. It could get me into trouble. But I don’t want to lie either. Not when Deion’s been so kind to me.
“A man? And he left you out on the streets?” Deion raises his brow. “That’s no man in my books.”
“Exactly!” Ashanti says, chewing with her mouth wide open.
“Ashanti, mond dicht als je eet,” Deion says, and the girl immediately shuts her mouth. “Sorry, I’m still trying to teach her manners,” Deion tells me, swinging his fork. “But I bet you know how hard that is.”
“Actually, no,” I say, stuffing a piece of delicious fried Kibbeling into my mouth. “I don’t have kids.”
“Hmm … interesting,” he says, taking a bite too while gazing at me as though I gave away crucial information. But none of this will reveal who I am or where I came from.
“Do you want kids?” Ashanti asks point blank.
I’m a little flabbergasted with my jaw practically hanging on the table right now. “I … I—”
“Ashanti,” Deion grumbles. “That’s rude.”
“Rude?” She glances at him.
“Ja. Te direct.”
“Oh,” she says. “I just want to know.”
“Maybe someday,” I reply because I don’t want them to argue over something like this. “But right now, I don’t know.”
“Don’t feel pressured to answer her questions,” he says. “She’s a little too curious sometimes.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I say with a wink, and he smiles.
“Do you have any family?” Ashanti asks.
“Um … some,” I say. “I have a father and a brother. And a stepmom, but I don’t count her along.”
Ashanti laughs. “A stepmom? I wish I had one.”
Deion’s eyes widen, and his cheeks start to glow as he whispers under his breath, “Ashanti.”
“What? It’s the truth!” she exclaims, still chewing.
He shakes his head. “Girls …”
I laugh. They’re cute together. I didn’t imagine Deion as a dad, but now that I see them together, I totally get it. I wonder where his wife is, though, because judging from what Ashanti said, she doesn’t have a mommy anymore.
“So … a stepmom, huh?” I mutter.
“Or just a mommy,” she says.
I gulp away my fish.
“Uh, let’s not talk about this,” Deion says.
“Why not?” Ashanti asks. “I miss Mommy.”
I cock my head and sigh at the sight of Deion’s embarrassed face, so I grab his arm, and say, “It’s okay. I won’t ask if you don’t want to talk about it.”
He nods and places a hand on top of mine. At first, it’s strange to have another man’s hand touch mine, but his warm, calloused hands make my skin glow. It feels good, and for some reason, I don’t pull away.
“Thanks,” he says. “I appreciate that.”
“Ooo ….” Ashanti coos, making us both laugh.
“Will you stay?” Ashanti suddenly asks.
“What?” I ask, instantly glancing at Deion.
“Uh, maybe? If she wants?” Deion says, who looks at me too now.
Wait … is he for real? “Well, if there’s room, and if it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to stay.” A broad smile forms on my lips. “For now,” I add, so I don’t sound too needy.
“It’s fine by me,” Deion says.
“Yay!” Ashanti says. “Roomie!”
“Nee, nee, ze slaapt op haar eigen kamer, in haar eigen bed. Net als jij,” Deion corrects, and he looks at me, and says, “I told her you sleep in your own room and bed.”
“Ah …” I nod. “Yeah, up in the attic.” I point up at the ceiling.
“De zolder,” Deion explains to Ashanti.
“Okay,” Ashanti replies. “As long as we get to play.”
I laugh. “Sure. Why not?”
Deion leans in, and whispers, “Don’t say yes. You’ll regret it. She’ll make you be her model the entire day so she can do your hair, makeup, and clothes.”
I snigger as Ashanti says, “Hey! Are you talking about me?”
“No, not at all,” Deion says, and I try to hold my laughter.
These two are amazing. “I’ll play with you, Ashanti. I promise.”
“Yay!” she says again, biting off another piece of fish as though she’s ripping it to shreds with her teeth.
We all continue to eat the fish in silence. I don’t know what to say, and it looks like Deion’s too afraid to pry into my personal life. Ashanti keeps getting reined back by Deion, so she doesn’t push too far. But I don’t mind. I won’t tell them anything don’t wanna tell. Besides, I have to be forthcoming to them if I wanna stay, so I try to answer as many of the questions she asks me.
After we’ve cleaned up the plates, we all go into the living room, where Deion turns on the television and puts on the news. I sit down on a comfy recliner while Deion curls on the sofa with Ashanti. I’m staring at the TV without even blinking. Without breathing.
Because they’re showing my brother’s picture.
And the reporter says, “And in small news, the new CEO of the major corporation Davis Holding, Elijah Davis, has been hospitalized due to unknown reasons, but sources within the hospital tell us he’s on bedrest after a possible heart attack.”
I don’t hear any other words she says. The words “heart attack” ring in my ears over and over again while my own heart beats out of control. My brother … in the hospital?
I have to call him. Right. Now.
I get up from the seat and turn toward Deion. “Can I borrow your phone?”
He looks up at me, surprised. “Um … yeah, sure.” He hesitates, then pulls it from his pocket and hands it to me.
“I need to … call someone,” I say as I bolt into the hallway for some privacy. There’s only one hospital he could’ve gone to, so I type in the hospital’s name on Google. My father doesn’t trust any of the other hospitals in the area, and my brother always does what he says. There’s a number on the front page, so I call it and wait as the phone rings. A lady picks up and starts talking, but I interrupt her immediately.
“Hi, is Elijah Davis there? Can you get him on the phone for me, please?” I say. “I need to know if he’s okay.”
“Excuse me, who is this calling?” she says.
“Charlotte … Davis,” I reply in a softer tone, hoping Deion doesn’t hear. “I’m his sister.”
“Davis … hmm, yes, he’s here. Hold on, I’ll put you through.”
The phone goes dead for a few seconds. Then I hear my brother’s voice. “Hello?”
“Elijah,” I murmur, tears springing into my eyes. “You’re alive.”
“Charlotte?” His voice is raspy, probably from the tube they had to put in his throat to save him.
“Yes, yes!” I say, wiping away a tear. “It’s me.”
“How are you?” His tone suddenly shifts. “Where are you?”
Where … am I?
Why would he ask that? He knows I’m supposed to be with Easton … unless Easton’s already contacted my dad and him.
“I’m …” I swallow away the lump in my throat because I can’t answer this truthfully. “It doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” He sounds upset.
“You’re in the hospital,” I reply, rubbing my lips together. “I saw it on the news, your heart attack.”
“Heart attack?” he mumbles. “I’m only here for a broken foot. Fell down a few flights of stairs.”
“Wha-what?” My words fail me as I try to make sense of the situation. “But I saw it—”
Our conversation suddenly cuts off.
“Charlotte!” It’s my dad. He probably ripped the phone away from my brother. “Tell me where you are right now!”
So he knows. He knows I’m not in Easton’s possession anymore, which means Easton must have told him.
“What is going on with Elijah?” I ask, ignoring his question. I want to know what happened because it’s as if I’m being kept in the dark intentionally.
“Elijah is in the hospital, but you already know that. It’s exactly why you called. But he’s being taken care of perfectly here. Now tell me where you are.” I can hear the disdain in his voice, and I don’t trust him one bit.
“Why d-did they say it w-was a heart attack?” I’m stuttering now.
“Charlotte, if you’re that worried about Elijah, I can pick you up and take you to him. You two can talk over here at the hospital.”
“No, tell me the truth,” I say.
“Charlotte,” he says with a condescending tone. “Look, if you don’t want to tell me where you are, will you at least tell your brother? Then we can pick you up. He’s been dying to see you.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it,” I say. “Is Elijah’s injury even real? Or did you tell the journalists some lie about a heart attack so they’d put it on the news? That’s it, isn’t it?” My blood boils, overflowing with rage. “You were trying to get me to contact you.”
“Just fucking tell me where you are, goddammit!” he yells, making me hold my hand over my mouth in shock. “My life is on the line. If I don’t tell Easton where you are, he’ll …”
“Don’t.” Tears roll down my cheeks. “Don’t hold this over me. This was not my choice. None of this was.”
“This loan was the only way to save the business, and you know that,” he says. “My life’s on the line here. If he doesn’t get you back, what will stop him from coming after me again? Nothing.”
“Stop,” I plead. “Just stop. Don’t do this, please.”
“You helped me once, and I need you to continue to help me, Charlotte. Our family depends on you. Don’t abandon us.”
I can’t stand this guilt-tripping, so I lower the phone and stare at it for a few seconds.
Father is still shouting on the other end of the line. “I swear to God, Charlotte, I will find you. Whatever it takes! I won’t fucking stop until I’ve found you, you hear me?”
Instead of saying another word, I press the cancel button and end the call.
My father’s words have left me in shambles. That entire news broadcast was a farce, a ploy to get me to call them so he could force me to tell him where I am. My brother wasn’t even close to dying, and my father used his situation as an opportunity to get me back … And worst of all, I feel guilty for not telling him.
Guilty for leaving Easton.
Guilty … for knowing my father could die because of me.
My hand is on my chest, fingers squeezing my skin, digging for something, anything, but I feel hollow inside. Even though my heart thrums in my throat, I’m devoid of emotions. The tears that once streamed have stopped and are replaced with a vapid emptiness on my face. All I can do is stare at the wall in front of me, wishing it would all stop.
Suddenly, a hand touches my shoulder, and I’m instantly pulled back into reality.
“Are you okay?” Deion’s standing right behind me, but when I turn my head to glance at him, he walks in front of me and grabs both my shoulders. “You look upset. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
“I … had to call my family,” I mutter, desperately trying to keep it all together without spilling my guts to him. I don’t want to pull him into this. Involving him would only make this more dangerous than it already is. Just being here means he’s in danger … and Ashanti too.
“Charlotte, was that your brother?” he suddenly asks.
My lips part, but I can’t answer without giving everything away and making him part of this problem too.
“It is, isn’t it? That man on the television was your brother. That’s who you were calling,” he says. “You’re a Davis.”
I shake my head and close my eyes, desperately wanting it to be a lie.
But it isn’t.
“Yes.”
Admitting that has never been more painful than it is now.
I am a Davis. I was born a Davis, and I will always be a Davis … until I die.
And him knowing this means he’s a threat to my father too.
And any man who’s a threat to my father doesn’t live long to tell the tale.
