Page 2 of Our Darkest Summer
Harrison, New York
I openedthe front door and stepped outside with my bags hanging on me like Christmas decorations.
“Not a word,” I said to Connor who was leaning against his brother’s black car, already packed in and ready to go. He snapped his mouth closed, but the corner of his lips tugged upward into a cheeky smile as he walked up to me.
“I wasn’t about to comment on you,” he said, pulling the bags off my shoulders. “Although you do look a lot like a walking lost-and-found.”
I rolled my eyes with pretend annoyance, and he grinned, handing the bags to his older brother who then put them into the trunk.
Thomas Rhodes, the said brother, the bane of my existence, walked around his car, and leaned against its front door, crossing his arms over his chest. He did not look at me. Didn’t even glance in my way. His attention was strictly on the gray house towering over us. Not that it surprised me. In the past fivemonths it was as if I didn’t even exist to him. Which was fine. More than fine. He didn’t exist to me either.
My fingers damped around the straps of my bags. I let out a sharp exhale, and pushed my feelings down into the depths of my chest. Out of sight, out of mind—but I could still tell he was frustrated from the way his jaw was clenched. Probably because we were still here, waiting for our parents to come outside, instead of being on our way.
Connor opened the back door and I threw the rest of my bags onto the dark-brown leather seat.
“Thanks,” I said, shaking my arms, trying to get the blood flow back into them.
“You could have told me that you needed help.” He elbowed me as we rested our backs against the warm car. I looked up at him, watching the sunlight play within his blond curls. “I could have sent Thomas up to help you.” He grinned, and I made a face.
“Funny,” I muttered, just as the front door of the house flew open, and my mother walked out, followed by Joshua Rhodes.
Her latestboyfriend. Or whatever they called a strategic partnership between two workaholics. Because it was strictly business, of course. A clever ruse. What else would two successful people do to make their power even more enormous, if not create a power couple facade that benefited them both? Even if it meant hurting others with the act…
My mother, Helena Green, was an attorney, working nonstop, day and night if that’s what the case required, and Joshua Rhodes, Thomas and Connor’s dad, had an architecture firm in New York, which, as an open secret, he intended to leave to his oldest son, Thomas.
Funny enough they had a lot in common for a fake relationship. They not only prioritized their work over their kids, but also pretended they didn’t.
Helena was already in her work clothes, wearing a black blazer with matching pants and holding one of her fancy briefcases. As always, her brown hair—similar to mine—was piled atop her head in a tight bun. Her high heels knocked harshly against the sidewalk as she approached me, and pulled me into a hug. I stiffened as she awkwardly patted my back. The moment was brief, practiced, like she had read somewhere that this was what mothers were supposed to do, and decided to try it out now.But why now?
We never hugged, it just wasn’t our thing. I chanced a glance at Connor in awhat the hellway, but he wasn’t beside me anymore. Instead he was standing by his father’s side, nodding along to whatever he was saying. Helena let go of me as suddenly as she hugged me, and tugged a loose strand behind my ear. My forehead creased.What was going on?
“Kinsley.” Her tone fell flatly, making me realize the obvious. She was as distant as always. Probably already half gone, drafting a contract in her head. And all this—hugging and caring—was a show for the neighbors.
“Mom,” I replied, making sure to match her lack of enthusiasm.
Her full lips pressed into a thin line, like it was me who was acting annoying. “Be good,” she said, then turned and strode down the driveway, slipping into the black Uber that waited for her at the curb.
Be good.The words settled over me like storm clouds. It was what she said to me every time she left me at my nan’s. Every time she locked me in her empty office while she had to run off and talk to a client.Be good.
NeverI love you. NeverI’ll miss you. Those weren’t in her vocabulary. Not for me at least.
I let out a slow breath as I watched her leave like I had done hundreds of times before. Then, I opened the back door and slid into Thomas’ car.
On the other side of the windshield, the boys were still talking with their father. Or, more accurately, Joshua was talking while Connor nodded along, and Thomas stood stiffly beside him with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched.
Whatever Joshua was saying, Thomas hated every word of it. Which was more than fair. His father was a sadistic asshole.
Connor, on the other hand, soaked in every word, standing between the two like a ray of sunshine caught in the middle of a storm. His green eyes practically glowed as he listened, his blond curls bouncing each time he nodded. Ironically though, it was Thomas—not Connor—who had inherited their father’s looks. The dark waves, the calculating stare that could strip a person down to the bone… They were intimidating, and Connor was anything but that.
I tipped my head. I wanted to know what they were talking about, but the distance was too far for me to adequately read Joshua’s lips, so instead, I pulled out a book from my tote bag and settled into the leather seat, focusing on Miss Marple’s mystery about a body in the library.
By the time the car doors opened and the boys slid into their seats, I was halfway through piecing the puzzle pieces together. I closed the book, and Connor rolled down his window, letting in the warm summer breeze.
Joshua stood at the front door, one hand on the handle, the other in the pocket of his suit pants. Thomas started the engine, and the car rumbled to life. We rolled down the driveway, the tires humming softly against the concrete. Only when we reached the street did Joshua lift his hand in a half-hearted goodbye. Connor waved back. I didn’t bother, the back windows were tinted anyway. And Thomas, he didn’t acknowledge hisfather at all. It wasn’t surprising, and not like Joshua didn’t deserve to be ignored.
I watched the houses pass by, feeling a strange kind of relief as we slowly left the suburb behind. Like the last few months could have still been an awful dream. I flipped my book open and leaned back, in the hope of getting lost within the safe pages.
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