Nova
My hands are still shaking when I make it back to the estate. My eyes are focused on the rearview mirror almost as much as the windshield because I’m convinced Morningstar, or whoever was in the study room, is going to come up behind me and run me off the road.
Alden is standing near the garage, speaking to someone I haven’t been introduced to, but he turns to watch me as I park my car and hustle into the house without a backward glance in his direction. I don’t want him catching sight of me or the scratches on my arm to confirm my need for an escort or protector. I refuse to walk around with a bodyguard. If I can hack it where I grew up, then I can sure as heck take care of myself here. I just need to be more careful.
I lock myself in my room, leaving my bag on the sofa before heading straight to the bathroom to scrub my arm. I probably should have done it sooner, since some of the little pinpricks of blood are already dried and crusty, but I didn’t want to be caught by Morningstar or whomever he sent to mess with me. I’ve come to the conclusion that’s the only thing that makes sense. He had someone waiting for me in the room. He probably expected them to keep me there so he could come in and tell me how worthless I am, or maybe even something worse. It surely doesn’t seem like he’s opposed to violence to get what he wants, but I must have surprised them when I fought back.
The welts on my arm look even worse after I scrub them with soap and water. My whole arm is red. I might have gone a little overboard with the scouring, but I have no idea what scratched me. My best guess is fingernails, and who knows when they last washed their hands? I shiver involuntarily just from thinking about it, then change my shirt to something with long sleeves so I won’t need to explain what happened if anyone comes by.
As soon as I’m done, I head straight for my bag so I can get my scheduled fixed. This isn’t going to stop me. If anything, it just makes me more determined to show them that I’m not going to be pushed around.
The sound of the key sliding into my locked door has my head snapping to the right. While I appreciate the comfy living space, I have to admit it’s tempered with knowing I have no expectation of privacy, not even with the hired guns apparently.
Alden doesn’t even look abashed when he walks right in and closes the door behind him.
“Did you need something?” I finally ask when it seems my glare isn’t going to be enough to get him talking or leaving.
“What happened today?”
I tug at the cuff of my long-sleeved shirt and play dumb. How the heck does he know anything happened?
“Why did you practically run into the house like the devil was on your heels?”
The description is so accurate, I could snort, but I don’t. “I had to poop,” I tell him with a straight face.
His head moves just enough to let me know my answer surprised him. Good. When his eyes narrow just a second later, I suspect he knows it was a diversion tactic, but how can he argue?
“What happened at school?”
“I got my results and came home to enroll in my classes. Why are you asking? Didn’t they dismiss you from guard duty?”
“That’s all?” he urges.
“Pretty much. Is there something else you need?”
“Why did you change your clothes?”
“It’s cold in here.” It’s not really a lie, but I would have been comfortable in my tee.
He starts to make a slow lap around the sofa, and I have to work to keep him in my sights. The easy camaraderie I thought we had is gone. I don’t trust him, and I never should have.
“You’re not telling me everything,” he says under his breath.
I ignore it, because I don’t have anything to tell him, and I’m not sure he expected me to respond anyway. “Why are you here?” I ask him slowly with an expectant glare, since he didn’t answer me the first time.
“You’re going to end up hurt if you’re not more careful.”
“Is that a threat?”
He makes a hissing sound as he sucks in a breath. “No, and you know it wasn’t.”
“Do I?” The ring of purple around the top of my arm would suggest I don’t, but I don’t say that. It would just make me seem weak.
“Tell your grandmother you changed your mind and want an escort,” Alden demands when he finally stops circling me.
“No.”
His lips pinch for just a second, but the tic in his jaw remains longer. “You don’t understand the dynamics here,” he counters.
Does he really think insinuating I’m ignorant is going to get me to do what he wants? “It’s not your concern.”
“You’re pissed because I told you to rein it in with Morningstar. I was trying to help you.”
It takes everything in me not to answer his bait. I want to defend myself again and say I wasn’t goading Morningstar, only standing up for myself, but I know it will fall on deaf ears, so I don’t bother replying.
“I really need to finish up. You can leave my key on the table if you don’t mind.” I look down at my computer, dismissing him, but I can still sense his presence in the room almost as keenly as if I were still watching him.
“Well, I do fucking mind,” he says without an ounce of shame.
I lift my eyes, but not my face, and track his movement until he’s standing a few feet in front of me. I give him my attention because it’s clear he has something more to say. “You don’t belong here.”
Ouch. I make sure to keep my features masked so he doesn’t see how his words make me feel.
“That’s not really up to you, is it?”
He takes a menacing step forward, and I actually lean back because I’m not exactly sure what he’s about to do. Something in my expression must show my thoughts, because he stops mid-step and eases back a pace or two.
“You need to leave.” I reach for my phone lying on the table next to my laptop without taking my eyes off him.
Alden looks up at the ceiling and lets out an exasperated laugh as he shakes his head. “You are infuriating.”
I get to my feet, still clutching my phone, and sidestep until I can get behind the couch. Instead of arguing with him, I keep my mouth shut, since everything I say seems to irritate him, and now is not the time to prove a point.
“Do yourself a favor. Get off this island and never look back,” Alden says before pivoting and storming out of the room. I take a step toward the door to lock it behind him, but there’s no point. He could get right back in.
I debate heading to the bedroom, since he said no one had a key to it, but I’m not even sure I could believe him at this point. I don’t know what his problem is. Maybe getting him taken off escort duty got him in trouble, because I swear every time we speak, he gets more hostile with me, and I’m tired of being on alert every second of the day.
I drop back on the couch and finalize my selections, then slam the top of my computer closed. My first class is a little after nine tomorrow morning, and I have the perfect excuse to get out of this house and off this island.
I know I’m breaking my word when I slip past the guard shack at the end of the bridge to get to the mainland. Rory’s request about letting him know if I plan to go to the mainland echoes in my head, but I ignore it. I need some space from this island and a few necessities.
The small town is busy for a weeknight. Most of the restaurants have full parking lots, and the streets are teeming with people walking. It doesn’t take me long to find a Walmart, but it does take me forever to walk to the doors since I parked way at the back of the lot so I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone scratching up the side of the car with a cart.
Walking through the large doors gives me a sense of familiarity that I’ve sorely been missing. I know what to expect here. The stores are laid out almost the same, and I can find the same stuff I would at home.
My cart has more notebooks, pencils, and pens than I’ll probably need for the next year, but I did wander up and down the stationary aisles three or four times, trying to kill time. Before leaving, I head to the back of the store and find a portable door lock. The video I watched after scanning the package seems pretty convincing, and it’s easier than changing the locks or screwing it into the molding.
Still not ready to head back, I take a drive along the coast. I get stopped at one of the lights and can’t help but notice the packed bar and grill with a large “help wanted” sign hanging in the window. At the last minute, I decide to find the nearest parking spot and head in to ask for an application. I’m not ready to commit to full-time work with school, but surely I could do some evenings and weekends, which means less time where I’m reminded just how much I don’t fit in on the island.
The place is on the small side, but the wide open doors leading to a huge deck with more seating on the other side of the bar and an amazing view of the ocean make up for it.
The hostess gives me a quick once-over and a practiced smile before saying, “How many?”
“I was actually hoping to get an application.”
“Oh, good. I didn’t want to tell anyone else there’s an hour wait.” She sighs with relief. “Head over to the bar and ask for Mickey.” She points toward the right.
I make my way through the bar, shimmying past people gathered at tables too small for their party size, but everyone is all smiles. I can only guess, but I think it has something to do with the view and atmosphere.
I end up leaning over the end of the scarred wooden counter to get the bartender’s attention. “Just because you’re pretty don’t mean I can get to you sooner,” the salt-and-pepper-haired man drawls thickly.
I smile at the compliment, knowing it’s just flattery, and raise my voice to be heard over the crowd. “I’m looking for Mickey.”
“Well, you found me, darlin’. What can I do for you?” He gives me his full attention but still pours a shot into a short glass without spilling a drop.
“I was hoping to get an application.”
His slightly bushy brows rise higher than I would have thought possible. “Got any experience?”
“I’ve been a server for a few years.”
“When can ya start?”
“I’m going to school, so I can do a few evenings and weekends,” I warn before he begins assuming.
“You ever work the bar? Wait, how old are you?” he questions.
“No, twenty.”
“You’re hired. You know how to pull a draft, don’t ya?”
“I think I can manage.” I smile.
“Hop on back here and give me something pretty to look at.”
“Hey!” someone gripes from farther down the bar, but I don’t know who.
I hesitate, unsure if he really means it, but when he glances over at me again, then at the bar, I know he’s not joking. I shove my sleeves up, noting I’m not dressed to be working behind a bar, but wash up anyway.
“I need two Blue Moons and four house pours,” Mickey shouts and resumes slinging bottles.
Finding the beer cooler for the bottles of Blue Moon is easy, but it takes me a second to read all the draft levers to find the right one.
As soon as I’m finished, Mickey lifts one of the glasses to his lips and drains the pint with a few gulps. “Perfect, I think you’ll do. Give these to the ugly bastard down at the end.”
My eyes immediately go to the end of the bar and scan the people sitting there. “Who?” I ask quietly, making Mickey chuckle.
“Jimmy!” he hollers, and a man turns his head to look in our direction. “That’d be him.”
The guy is not even close to ugly. His blond hair is thick and wavy on top but cut short on the sides, highlighting his dark eyes. His neatly kept short beard suits him well, he looks like he may be in his late twenties, but he could be a few years older. Now if Mickey would have said mean instead of ugly, he would have led me right to Jimmy. I gather the drinks up and walk them down to the end of the bar, placing them in front of the waiting man.
“Who are you?” he questions.
“Nova.”
“Only Nova I know is a 1969 two door.” His eyes roam over me without shame, and a flush colors my cheeks. I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered by his perusal, because his tone doesn’t give much away.
“You better not be giving her a hard time, Jimmy. I’ll boot your ass out of here.”
“I own the place, old man,” Jimmy snarls and shoves a bill across the counter for me to take.
“I don’t give a shit. Ignore him and come on down here and give me a hand, darlin’.” This place may be good for my wallet and self-esteem, but it might threaten my sanity. The next hour passes quickly. I spend most of that time being backup for Mickey, but we manage to discuss which days and hours work best for me before he sends me packing for the night with a thick wad of bills in my pocket.
I end up avoiding Jimmy for the most part. He was actually seated at a booth in the corner of the bar with a few other men, but I felt his eyes on me too often, or maybe it was my eyes that strayed to him too often.
Being in the packed bar made it easy to forget about all my issues at the house and school, but when I step out into the evening humidity, all those worries come flooding back. As I walk the few blocks to my car, I pull my phone out to check the time, only now realizing I have a few missed calls and texts.
The number is unknown, but it doesn’t take more than a glance to understand the demands to know where I am are coming from Alden. I send off a quick reply to the final message that only came about twenty minutes ago.
Me: Went into town to grab some supplies. On my way back now.
The return text bubble pops up almost as soon as I hit enter, but my phone starts ringing a second later. “Dang it. Hello?” I only let him hear the greeting.
“You’re supposed to tell me when you leave the island.” His voice is deep and deceptively calm.
“Really? I thought all that was squashed. Astrid agreed I didn’t need an escort.” I play dumb, then hit the unlock button for the car since I can see it parked at the curb a few cars down.
“Nova,” a masculine voice says from just over my shoulder. I turn on instinct and come face to chest with Jimmy.
“Yeah?” I’m a little breathless as I step back to look up at him, but he did startle me. I shouldn’t be talking on the phone while walking. I’m clearly too distracted.
“Whom are you talking to?” Alden demands.
“Mickey said he forgot to give you this for your shift.” Jimmy holds out a bundle of folded T-shirts for me to take.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the shirts while trying not to drop my phone. I can’t hear Alden’s muffled words at this point anyway. “You didn’t have to bring them out. I could have gotten them when I came in for my shift.”
Jimmy searches my face for a second. “Where do you go to school?” The slight tightening around his eyes sends a warning bell to my brain. For some reason, I don’t want him to know it’s Cadieux, but I can’t explain why.
“A local college,” I hedge, hoping he was just inquiring about my age to make sure I’m old enough to serve alcohol.
“What happened to your arm?”
My phone starts lighting up and buzzing, giving me an excuse to end the conversation. “Sorry, I need to go. I didn’t expect to be out so late this evening.”
I back up a few steps with Jimmy still watching me, but he doesn’t try to question me anymore. Once I’m farther away, I spin on the ball of my foot and step off the curb so I can get behind the wheel of the Macan.
I can’t bring myself to look up at him when I start the luxury SUV, even though I know he’s still standing there. He’s probably wondering why someone driving such an expensive car would need a job at a bar, but it’s really not anyone’s business as long as I do my job, or that’s what I tell myself at least when I look in the rearview mirror to find him still watching me drive away. I wonder if he gets a lot of students from Cadieux and doesn’t care for the crowd. Bobcat’s would get flooded with Wayne State students some weekends, so I get it.
When my phone starts to buzz again, I hit the button on the dash to answer it. “I’m headed back now, in the car, safe and sound.”
The other end is silent for a breath, and I almost wonder if it was someone else calling, but then Alden says, “I’ll meet you at the bridge,” and then the line goes dead.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous when I make the turn for the bridge. It’s been a while since I had to answer to anyone, and I’m not sure what Alden will tell my grandparents or if it will make Astrid rethink making me keep my escort around.
A figure steps away from the guard shack right into the road, and I hit the brakes hard, jerking the car to a stop several feet away from a very pissed off Alden. I’m tempted to just go around him, but it would be childish, so I hit the button to unlock the door when he reaches for the handle.
He crams his tall frame into the passenger seat and slams the door harder than necessary. “Hey, no need to take it out on the car,” I grumble.
Alden ignores me, so we end up driving in silence to the estate. It’s only when I’m about to head to the front of the house when he says, “Keep going straight.” I spare him a quick glance but do as he asks, heading around the side of the house to the back. “To the left.” He points to a fork in the road, and I follow that too, getting farther and farther away from the main house.
First, we pass a large garage, if you can even call it that, because it almost looks like a smaller version of the house, but the large bay doors inform me that it stores vehicles. Past that, there are several smaller houses dotted along the curving drive. “Slow down,” he instructs once we reach what seems to be the end of the houses.
I press the brake until I’m creeping along and eventually come to a stop near the edge of another line of trees. It’s growing darker by the second, but it’s the silence that’s making me uncomfortable.
“So what is this? A tour of where I’m allowed to go?” I’m feeling defensive, and I’m still aggravated at Alden. I had begun thinking of him as an ally here before he turned into a jerk just like almost everyone on this island.
“No, let’s go for a walk.” He opens the car door and exits without waiting for me to agree.
I sit here for a moment, practically stunned and getting more and more irritated. “Don’t slam my door,” I snap when I reach the front of the car.
He gives me a bored look and ignores my comment.
I cross my arms over my chest.
“What happened at school today?”
“What?” I ask, confused, since I assumed I was going to get yelled at for going off the island.
“At the library?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” I play dumb because I don’t want to tell him someone grabbed me in the room, or that I ran smack dab into Morningstar when I ran away.
“Someone said they saw you on the ground in front of Morningstar. Did he push you down?”
“No,” I answer honestly, and it rings with the truth.
Alden’s eyes narrow. “Why would you defend him?”
“I’m not. It’s the truth. Do you have someone spying on me?”
“Do you think I would have had to spend the last few hours searching for you if I did?” He scowls, allowing me to see he’s not happy about the way he spent his evening.
“Astrid agreed to no escort. There were no stipulations. I’m not your problem.”
“Wrong, all of this is my problem. You think these people are just a bunch of rich fucks, but you’re in more danger here than in that shitty little apartment, and before you get all teenage angst on me, this isn’t just about you. There’s a lot more at play here than you understand.”
The teenage comment stings. He’s saying I’m immature, but I don’t let on that it bothers me. “Then tell me, why all the secrets?”
Alden rolls his lips in as if he’s actually stopping himself from speaking, then he shakes his head briefly. “I doubt you would believe me, and I don’t know you well enough to predict how you would react. It could have the opposite effect.”
“How about you let me decide for myself since I am an adult?”
Alden watches my face for a long second, but when he finally speaks, I know he’s decided to keep me in the dark because he doesn’t give me any useful details. “The founders have enemies, anyone with the kind of power and money they have does. If you’re going to go off the island, let someone know and stay away from the Morningstars.”
“You act like I’m hunting him down,” I retort.
“Maybe not yet.”
“What the heck does that mean?”
“Figure it out,” he snaps.
“Got it,” I reply flatly.
“If you’re as smart as you think, you’ll listen to me and keep your head down.”
“Are we done here?” I start to step back toward the side of the car. There’s a petty part of me that would love nothing more than to leave his butt here and make him walk back, but that would be about as immature as he accused me of being.
Alden just shakes his head as if I’m such a disappointment and too dumb to deal with. It makes me want to defend myself, but there’s no point, so I don’t.
When he pulls the door closed after getting in, he’s at least careful not to slam it this time. I do a three-point turn, so I don’t end up on the grass, and head back to the main house. I’m the one to break the silence when I ask, “Do you know if I should park back here? Rory never said.”
“I run security, not the garage,” he replies, and my shoulders tighten with his reproach. That will be the last time I speak to him unnecessarily.
