The King Estate is the biggest private residence on Hannsett Island.
The two-story mansion overlooks the beach.
The whole place is enshrouded by tall hedges that make it impossible for anyone to look in. I didn’t realize what an effect those hedges had on my psyche until years later when I started meditating in earnest.
When I was in a bad place or feeling vulnerable, I’d close my eyes and imagine myself surrounded by hedges.
It was privacy. Security. But it did something else important: it kept people and things out.
The King family was local, but we weren’t one of the locals. We were better than the locals. The hedges kept us apart from everything.
You get a distorted view of yourself—and your place in the world—when you live in an ivory tower.
But there are consequences to being that high up, too. The fall is steep.
I pull the car up to the hedges and punch in the security code. The iron gate slowly swings open, letting us in.
I glance in the rearview mirror. Donovan is staring hard out the window.
“You okay, bud?” I ask him.
“Great,” he says, but his jaw is tight, like it’s taking everything in him to keep it together.
Note to self: maybe tone down the potency of the brownies next time.
“Why does it smell like sex in here?” Donovan asks suddenly from the back.
The noise that leaves my throat is halfway between an “oh” and a groan. I grab the coffee mug culprit from the console and shove it under my chair.
“I’m not going to ask,” Donovan says. “I really don’t want to know.”
“Hey,” Kenzi says. “How’re you feeling?”
Her fingers slip over the back of my neck. I shiver. That’s a secret hotspot of mine—the sensation of nails lightly trailing up the nape of my neck sends a hot lick of pleasure through me.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
“Honestly? A little nervous.”
Kenzi drops her head against the car seat. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”
“What’ve you told them?” Donovan asks from the back seat, suddenly sounding on edge.
“Just that I’m bringing a couple friends over.”
“That’s good,” Kenzi says. “I think we should keep that line. No reason to make things weird with…hey, Mom, Dad, these are the two people I’m fucking.”
“Yeah,” Donovan agrees. “Let’s not.”
I bite the inside of my lip. I’m not great at keeping secrets—but they’re right. To open that jar of worms would invite too many questions.
But it doesn’t feel right to keep them a secret, either. It makes this feels dirty.
Which it’s not. It’s beautiful.
“If you’re sure,” I say, but even I know I don’t sound convincing.
I don’t know if Kenzi realizes the effect she has on me, because her nails are still absently tracing circles over the back of my neck.
I’ve got to stop her before I pop a boner in front of my parents, so I gently remove her hand and press an affectionate kiss to the backs of her fingers instead.
That makes her smile. My heart leaps.
I pull us up the driveway. My mother is waiting for us. She’s bundled up in an olive-green coat, thick mittens, and a scarf around her face. Even from the car, I can tell her cheeks are rosy. How long has she been standing in the cold waiting for us?
She eagerly waves a gloved hand as I park the car in the driveway and kill the engine.
The three of us step out, and the first thing I do is scoop my mom in a quick hug. She’s too short and I’m too tall, which worked out for me in high school when I could easily avoid her embarrassing gestures of affection. Now, I have to bend down to press a small kiss to the side of her face and tell her, “Happy New Year.”
“Oh, Happy New Year, my darling. It’s so good to see you.”
Her grip is always too tight, and it hurts in a way I can’t describe. Since her kids flew the nest, she doesn’t have a lot to hold on to, and my dad is crap at emotional support.
I make a mental note to push him to get a dog.
“Come on in!” she says. “It’s freezing!”
We all head inside. It’s warm in here and brightly lit. I can smell the cooking from the kitchen—notes of roasted vegetables and onion lingering in the air.
My dad stands in the foyer, lips pressed in a thin smile. I nod to him. “Happy New Year.”
He nods back. This is as close as we’ll get all night.
“I brought some friends—you guys remember Kenzi?” I put both hands on Kenzi’s shoulders to take her coat.
“My uh…mom used to be married to Terry Blake. We were here a few years ago.”
“Oh! Yes!” My mom clasps her hands excitedly, even though I can tell by her glassy stare that she doesn’t recall Kenzi at all. “Of course—how is your mother doing now?”
“Fine, actually…”
“Donovan.” My father clasps Donovan’s hand. “Always good to see you, son.”
Donovan shakes his hand. “You too, Mr. King.”
I’m not going to lie—the way my father looks at Donovan?
It’s with pride. It’s the son-I-never-had look.
And it stings. For reasons that feel like taffy on my molars.
Can’t win them all.
But I’ve got to admit—as someone who always had top grades, the best time on the swim team, the best everything, it’s hard to come second place in the eyes of my own father.
That’s a burn you can’t fix.
“I’m glad your friends could join us,” my father says. There’s something behind his tone, however, like a razor blade between the teeth. I can’t place it. And then he continues. “We had a surprise guest stop in. She’ll be joining us for dinner as well.”
“Who—?” I start, but then the glass doorway to the back patio slides open, and she steps inside.
My tongue rolls down my throat. My testicles retreat into my body. My toenails recede into my skin.
“Nadine,” I say, and the word cracks between my teeth like a tasteless, unsalted cracker.
When Nadine smiles, it’s with all of her teeth. “So nice to see you,” she says, addressing the crowd like a politician. When she sees me, her gaze flickers over me, from head to toe. “All of you.”
“Oh, no,” Donovan groans audibly. “The wicked bitch of the west.”
When he notices us all starting at him, he blinks.
“What? Did I say that out loud?”
