Page 41 of I Blame the Alcohol

I shut my eyes and try to conjure the facts Idoknow about Stella.

She’s close to her brother, that much is obvious, she loves dancing, attending terrible residence events, hanging out with her roommate, singing along to terrible music, bickering with me at the gym every morning… but those all feel surface level. Things that even Wes would know about her. Maybe even Nico.

They don’t know what her lips taste like.

But even that doesn’t feel like enough.

Watching Stella climb the stairs, her small frame bounding up them with an endless supply of energy, I’m hit with a sudden urge to fill the gaps. To find a way to bridge the distance Stella puts between herself and the outside world and finally see what lays inside.

“Welcome aboard Cirrus Vision SF50, Ellsworth. We call her CV for short.” Throwing me a wink, my mentor turns and follows his sister up the stairs.

Shifting my duffel back to my other shoulder, I take one last glance at the shiny exterior of the aircraft.

Wish me luck, CV.

I have a feeling I’m going to need it.

Chapter 13

Stella

Home sweet home.

Well, more like back at the family house. It’s hard to call a house a home when you’ve lost the one person who made it feel that way. To say the halls have hollowed since my mother’s death would be a gross understatement. One even my father couldn’t disagree with.

Our car slows to a crawl as we approach the gates of Shaughnessy Heights. You need a six-digit code to get into the community, never mind the voice recognition needed to access someone’s driveway.

It’s overkill to say the least.

Our driver punches in the code and the gates slowly open before us. Snow-covered hedges come into view, their artificial shape and strategic placement meant to maximize homeowner’s security. And privacy.

Something I’ve learned over the years is rich people don’t have neighbours, they just have homeowners in inconvenient locations.

My air pods drown out Cody and Mo’s voices as I gaze out the passenger window, watching dusk descend upon the sky, making the hedge-shaped silhouettes stretch farther along the road in front of us. Past the gates it’s only a five-minute drive to our house and soon the familiar slope of our driveway comes into sight.

Pod lights flick on as the sky continues to darken, lighting up the winding stretch of road as we descend onto my father’s property. The manicured lawns gracing each side of the driveway are covered in a few feet of snow and the frozen crystals sparkle at us as we drive past. Our driver pulls to a stop just beside the marble fountain now doubling as an ice sculpture, with the fortress that is my family home looming before us.

I pop out my earphones just as Cody mutters, “Holy shit.”

Mo chuckles, “Wait till you see the inside.”

I’ll admit, I may have been a bit misleading with the “house” reference earlier, but it’s weird to think of my family house as a mansion. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that most people don’t have an indoor pool, a steam room, and two different gyms in their household, but calling my house a mansion just feels pompous.

Plus, that would ruin the surprise.

Mo tips the driver and we all climb out of the car. Cody almost trips himself trying to crane his neck back far enough to take in the stone arches towering above him. The sunset responds to the moment perfectly, the bloodred sky bringing out the smooth white exterior of the sprawling mansion.

I barely get a chance to appreciate the view before a deep voice pulls my attention to the figure standing under the stone columns barricading the entrance.

“You’re late.”

Even from ten feet away, I can see displeasure seeping through my father’s handsome face. He hasn’t aged much since I last saw him, his skin remains mostly winkle-free, and the blue cashmere sweater and dress pants look impeccable. His formal attire is fitted to perfection, casually outlining the same dominating build Mo has.

That is to say, strong and built to perfection.

“Unexpected glacial winds blew in and added a few minutes to our flight time.” Mo responds easily, as if my father’s earlier comment was a question instead of a statement.

Cody walks forward with an outstretched hand, “Cody Ellsworth, sir. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

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