Page 4 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

“I don’t know what I like anymore,” I finally said after I’d finished half the bottle, and he was still eyeing me expectantly.

It was the truth. The last few years had been horrible and lonely, and I was scared to get my hopes up that this would be any better.

“We’re going to change that,” he said with a smile. “Hungry?” Everett had pulled out a bag of chips from some other compartment, and I stared longingly at it, trying not to drool.

“Yes,” I whispered, unable to keep the eagerness out of my voice as I took the chips and carefully opened them like they were gold.

My uncle pretended not to notice how I gobbled them up like a deranged monster.

“Where do you live?” I asked after I finished and had leaned my head tiredly against the glass.

“Dallas,” he muttered as he typed something on his phone. My mouth dropped and I sat up, gaping at him. I’d never been out of Washington.

“We’ll get you all set up with school and new clothes and whatever else you need. It’s going to be great,” he continued distractedly, still staring at his phone and seemingly completely unaware of the fact that I was melting into my seat in shock.

I’d recovered somewhat by the time he finally put his phone down. After all, what was the alternative to moving to Dallas, keep living in shitty foster homes until I aged out and ended up on the streets?

I’d take my chances in Texas.

He patted my knee before reaching down and grabbing a fancy-looking black box. “Chocolates? They’re the best money can buy.”

The gold lettering on the lid gleamed under the dim light of the car, and I hesitated when Everett set it on my lap.

“Go on,” he said, his voice smooth, like he was offering me more than chocolate. “Try one.”

I swallowed hard and lifted the lid. Inside, rows of perfect little chocolates lay nestled in golden paper, each one a tiny masterpiece. I had no idea which to pick; they all looked like they belonged in a museum.

Timidly, I reached for one, a dark chocolate square with an elegant swirl on top. My fingers brushed the delicate surface, and for a second, I almost put it back. But I could feel his eyes on me, waiting.

The chocolate melted the second it hit my tongue, rich, velvety sweetness exploding in my mouth. My eyes widened in surprise. It was perfect—smooth and decadent, with layers that I couldn’t even name but felt like magic.

“Well?” my uncle prompted, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s…” I searched for the right word, still savoring the lingering taste. “It’s amazing.”

I grabbed another chocolate and then, at his urging, a few more.

And as we drove into the airport, where the sleek lines of his private plane gleamed under the floodlights, it felt like I’d stepped into a dreamworld. The soft hum of the car, the promise of a better life whispering in every luxurious detail, wrapped around me like a warm cocoon. Maybe this was it. Maybe all the bad things I’d endured—the nights of fear, the years of nothingness—had led to this moment.

But as the plane’s engines roared to life, a tiny voice whispered in the back of my mind, sharp and uneasy:Dreams don’t come without a price.

* * *

When we finally pulled through the gates of his drive almost six hours later, I had to blink twice to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. The place wasn’t just big—it was massive. A mansion, like the ones in movies or on TV shows. The house—no, the estate—loomed in front of us, a black structure with clean lines and what seemed like a million windows. It looked like something out of a dream, all modern and cold, with perfectly manicured lawns and a freaking pond out front where I could see koi swimming around.

“Yes, you can feed them,” Everett said, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched me gape at his house.

I grinned sheepishly at him and swallowed hard as the car pulled into the circular drive, dislodging my nose from where I’d had it smashed against the window as I took in the sights. Darwin opened the door for my uncle first, and he climbed out, his black hair catching the last glint of sunlight. Then my door was opened, and Darwin waited for me to step out like this was some kind of grand entrance at a ball. I hesitated for a second, my fingers gripping the handle tight.

When I finally got out of the car, the heat hit me like a wall. The air was thick, suffocating, but it wasn’t just the humidity. It was the place itself, the way it seemed to tower over me like I was something small, something…insignificant.

“You’ll get used to it. Before you know it, this place will feel like the home you’ve always lived in.” His voice was easy as he confidently walked away, flicking his hand for me to follow him. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

The foyer was even more overwhelming than the outside. White marble floors stretched out beneath my feet, gleaming like they’d never seen a speck of dust. The walls were lined with art—huge, abstract pieces that didn’t make any sense to me. There were high ceilings, chandeliers hanging down like frozen waterfalls, and everything was quiet, like the whole house was holding its breath.

I wasn’t sure I liked that.

“You live here all alone?” I muttered, not really meaning for him to hear.

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