and inconspicuous. Once, my mother found my box, she rummaged through the bandages and the Band-Aids, and she found the blades. At first, she went on a rampage, screaming at me, and then she broke down. I had never seen my mother cry, but that day, she did. I promised her that I’d be okay. It was the first and last time she acknowledged what she found. The days after, she ignored me, as if she never knew what I did.
After a couple of weeks, she sent me to therapy, not wanting to deal with it herself. I spoke to a stranger about my feelings, but nothing worked. The only thing that helped was the metal biting into the smooth, tanned flesh of my inner thighs.
I hate this.
But I don’t.
It’s a release that I never thought I could ever feel because nothing that was normal worked. Therapy. Medication. Even just focusing on hobbies didn’t help me.
A cut was the only solace I found.
A harsh knock on the door sounds like a warning alarm in my bedroom. I go to it, opening it up, to find my mother smiling at me like the world is perfect. Her happiness makes her glow, and I wish that she was like this all the time. But I know it’s a fleeting moment in time.
“We’re getting ready to leave,” she tells me, before pulling me into her arms as if we were always close and loving. Her affection is so foreign, it takes me a moment to hug her back.
“I hope you have fun,” I whisper, still confused at her sudden love for me. She doesn’t say anything; she just holds me.
When we finally break apart, she smiles at me, before telling me, “I hope you enjoy Thorne Haven. I hear it’s beautiful. And the manor is just stunning.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I will like it.”
“And behave for the boys, they’ll be looking after you.” Her voice is stern, annoying, because I’m no longer a child. I’m eighteen, all grown up and ready to take on the world.
“Mom, just go,” I tell her, hoping she’ll stop this strange behavior. It’s been so long since she’s paid me any attention without insults, it’s disconcerting.
“I just want you to show them that you were brought up with class.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “And no boys, school should be your focus. Make sure you’re ready to choose your major by the time we’re back. If you want to move to England and go to Oxford, like your dad did, then you can do that as well. I just don’t want my daughter falling pregnant with some misfit’s child.” She doesn’t say it, but I know she wanted to say, like I did. All my life I’ve heard about her finding out she was pregnant with me, which set her career back by a couple of years. And, all the while, I knew I was a mistake she didn’t want.
“Hey, little sis,” Finn saunters by, his gaze raking over my silky sleep shorts and tank top before he arches a dark brow. “We’re leaving in an hour, best be ready, Damien hates waiting.”
“I’ll be there,” I respond, with a smile. The thought of sitting in a car with the three guys for so long has me on edge.
“Have fun,” Mother tells me, before planting a kiss on my forehead. Once I’m alone, I’m able to breathe. It’s apparently going to be a long drive to Thorne Haven. We can’t fly because they don’t have an airstrip in the town. And Damien doesn’t want to leave his precious car here, so it looks like a road trip is in the cards.
I guess it’s time to face my three stepbrothers.
7
Damien
The moment the engine roars to life, I put my foot on the gas, and we head down the driveway and out onto the road. I’m hyperaware that she’s in my car, right behind the passenger seat. It’s almost as if I can feel her looking at me, watching me. I don’t turn; I focus on the road, but it’s difficult.
Cass reaches for the radio, flicking it on to find something to listen to. I know he’s going to end up linking his iPhone to the stereo, but I leave him to it. At least his taste in music isn’t bad.
If it was Finn, I’d lose my shit. Sometimes, our youngest brother can drive us crazy with the tunes he has blaring from his bedroom. Flicking my gaze in the rearview