The Wrong Path - By Vivian Marie Aubin du Paris Page 0,7

off-guard. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from the dark eyes that held hers, surprised at their depth. The curl of his lips was evident as he finally said something to his older brother. Almost instantly, Trevor swung around to look at her.

Annabelle flushed as both boys stared at her, straightening in alarm as she looked between the two of them. She was embarrassed at being caught staring, but Will was still smiling, and Trevor just had a look of agitation on his face.

Will said something else to Trevor, who quickly pivoted to look at him again, Annabelle finally forgotten. Then Will deliberately stepped away from his older brother, a polar opposite in just about every way, and joined Ebony in the line. Trevor turned back, looking tired, and flashed a weak smile at Annabelle before he rejoined them at the table.

“Is everything okay?” Claudia asked, a syrupy tone of concern in her voice. Annabelle watched as her long, slender fingers, topped with perfectly manicured French nails, landed on Trevor’s arm. Beside her, she could feel Claire tense, and silently, Annabelle pleaded with Claire to just let it go.

“Yeah,” Trevor told her, smiling and looking chagrined. “That brother of mine… He’s doing whatever he can to kill our mother, I swear it.”

Annabelle said nothing, but his words reminded her of the ones she had also said to Will the night before when she had caught him climbing into his window. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of telling Trevor about her fleeting meeting with Will, but decided against it. If she did tell him, she would tell him when they were alone—not in front of a crowd. She didn’t want to announce his personal business to everyone.

Claire nodded sympathetically. “Your mother always talked about him at tea,” she said sadly. “This has to be really hard for her.”

Trevor nodded, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white. Annabelle wished for the right words to smooth the situation over, but she didn’t know what to say. “My mom’s weak enough. Who knows what will push her over the edge.”

“Someone needs to teach that boy a lesson,” Claudia agreed, looking over at Will and Ebony distastefully. “Your mother is dealing with far too much to have to put up with his childish antics.”

Annabelle frowned, wishing the conversation would just end. Even though she knew the others were right, it was still hard listening to it, and it just seemed to be feeding Trevor’s anger. She didn’t want Trevor to be angry. She wanted him to be happy. She didn’t want Mrs. Scarlett to be ill anymore, either, but there was nothing she could do to whip Will into shape just for his mother’s sake.

Blessedly, there was a ringing around the table, interrupting the conversation. With an embarrassed smile, Claire pulled the ringing cell phone out of her purse. “Excuse me,” she said to the table, then answered the phone. “Hello?” She was silent for a moment. “Mary!” she greeted enthusiastically. “We’re in the food court.” She was quiet another moment. “Okay, see you soon. Kisses!” She hung up the phone, and turned to the others, smiling affectionately. “Mary’s hair is done. I can’t wait to see it.” She stood from the table, the other girls quickly following suit.

“We’ll see you guys tonight,” Claudia purred to Trevor and Zach. Zach smiled wolfishly and made some comment that made the other girls laugh, but Annabelle was too distracted by Trevor to hear it. He was staring at his food as if he were no longer hungry, looking exhausted and worn out. Her heart went out to him, and even as Claire practically dragged her away, she couldn’t resist looking out across the rest of the large room for the younger Scarlett brother.

She spotted him at one of the corner tables with Ebony, laughing with a wide, mischievous grin on his face. His dark eyes twinkled in merriment as he spoke rapidly, the girl’s peals of laughter ringing through Annabelle’s mind even as they left the food court.

Chapter Three

“I’m home!” Annabelle called as she entered the house.

“Living room!” was her mother’s response.

She made her way to the living room, stepping into the lush cream and blue room. Her mother was lounging on the couch, a book on her lap, her head raised expectantly. She smiled when she saw Annabelle.

“Your hair looks lovely,” her mother assured her. She caught sight of the clothes on the hangers Annabelle held and frowned slightly. “Is that