Broken Empire A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance - Callie Rose Page 0,56
weekend, so on a Saturday morning in early April, Elijah drove me to my grandparents’ house and dropped me off. I had met Philip for lunch a few times earlier in the semester, and he got regular updates from both me and Scott on my progress in physical therapy. He and Scott actually seemed like they were becoming buddies, which I found both adorable and incredibly strange.
Then again, I got the feeling my grandfather was pretty lonely. He had Jacqueline, but other than her, I didn’t know if he had any real, close friends.
He’d texted me earlier in the week to ask me specifically to come to their house though, and I had agreed. I didn’t see any reason not to. I preferred meeting with him alone, but a small part of me relished the fact that Philip could invite me over to their house, and all my grandma could do was stew about it.
Elijah leaned over and kissed me on the cheek when he pulled up outside their large home, his oak and sage scent tickling my nostrils. I turned my head slightly so that my lips caught his before he pulled away, and he lingered a second longer.
We had all been dancing around the feelings that stirred between us for weeks, finding little ways to test the waters, and although it still scared and confused the hell out of me, I was trying to channel the Talia from that night in the ocean—to do and take what I wanted.
Fuck fear and fuck conventions.
His hand squeezed my knee as he kissed me one more time, a quick peck on the lips before he drew back. His hazel eyes sparked with something bright and happy as he smiled at me.
“Have fun. Text me when you’re ready to go back, okay? I’m gonna head into Roseland, but I’ll swing back by whenever you need me.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I grinned at him. Part of me still hated being chauffeured around like this. The new car my grandpa had bought me for Christmas, the one with the highest safety ratings of any vehicle out there, sat unused in the Oak Park student lot. But not only was I sure the Princes would lose their shit if I tried to drive it anywhere, I didn’t feel ready to do that myself. The thought of it terrified me, honestly.
By the time I stepped out of the car, Philip and Jacqueline had both come out to stand at the top of the steps to wait for me. I could feel them watching me as I walked slowly up the steps, assessing my recovery progress.
Scott assured me I was doing well, but I still struggled often with feeling like I wasn’t improving fast enough.
Philip clearly didn’t think so—or maybe his new best buddy Scott had told him I needed a confidence boost—because he beamed at me as I neared him and Jacqueline.
“You’re looking wonderful, Talia. How do you feel?”
“Good.”
“That’s excellent. I’m happy to hear it.”
I grinned at him. I had no idea how much it’d cost for him to bring Scott out here, but considering I was pretty much the man’s only client, and that he’d uprooted his entire life to come work with me, it had to be an astronomical fee.
If I thought about it for too long, it made me feel like I was breaking out in hives. So I didn’t think about it.
There were probably strings attached to this too, just like there had been to my grandparents’ agreement to take me in originally, and just like there must be to whoever had sent Erin Bennett to Sand Valley to help me.
But it didn’t feel quite the same.
The more Philip started to feel like an actual grandfather, the less his help bothered me.
Families—or at least, loving families—did whatever they could to support and take care of each other. They didn’t make demands in exchange for help or keep a list of favors owed.
When I reached the top step, I expected him to usher me inside. But instead, he turned to Jacqueline, fixing her with an expression I hardly recognized on him. When I’d first met Philip, he had seemed tired and old, often a little dazed or out of it. Now that he was no longer drinking, his mind seemed sharper and his body more spry.
But still, the way he drew himself up, the way his features hardened into a serious expression—he looked almost commanding, and I hadn’t been prepared for it.