Every Little Promise (Orchid Valley #0.5) - Lexi Ryan Page 0,4

the anger I felt those first few years after she pushed me away. I want Brinley. If there was any doubt about it in my mind before, it vanished the moment I laid eyes on her. “I want it all.”

I drain my drink. Bourbon isn’t meant to be guzzled like a cheap beer, but I’m wound so tight and I just want to enjoy this night—this chance. One more chance with Brinley. Alec is right. It’s a gift—one I never dared ask for.

Chapter Two

Marston

September 21st, before

“When you’re done scrubbing those pans, come find me in the dining room,” Aunt Lori says. “I’ll need your help to set up for tomorrow’s breakfast.”

I nod, not bothering to look at her. I’m half afraid she’s going to renege on her promise to pay me for tonight. Ten dollars an hour to help cook and wash dishes for some spoiled teenager’s fancy birthday party? It seems too good to be true. But even if she breaks her promise, it’s not like I had anything better to do with myself.

I moved to Orchid Valley a week ago. I’d been living on my own in Atlanta. It was fine at first—better than being stuck with my mom and her carousel of bad boyfriends. But then I didn’t make rent one month and was short again the next and found myself sleeping in the park. It was temporary. I just needed to save up enough for a room. Maybe I could have done it, but I didn’t have a place to wash my clothes, and I couldn’t use my car because I couldn’t afford gas, so I lost my job. Then a reckless, desperate idea turned into flashing red and blue lights and a breaking and entering charge.

It wasn’t Mom but Aunt Lori who got the lawyer to make the judge go easy on me. She turned Mom’s addiction issues into a massive sob story. I hate pity, but it worked. A couple of days later, per court orders, I moved sixty minutes north to Lori’s little place in Orchid Valley. And on Monday, per court orders, I’ll attend my senior year of high school here with a bunch of rich kids. Not that I’m complaining about that—I know Lori saved my ass—but if the party happening down the hall is any indication, Orchid Valley is crawling with entitled, preppy-ass teenagers.

“Leave me alone!” someone shrieks from the hall, and I look up just in time to see a ball of fluffy pink tulle barreling through the double doors and into the kitchen. She turns around and gives me a shaky smile. “Do you mind if I hide in here for a minute?” Tears stream down her face, leaving sooty trails of mascara in their wake.

Shrugging, I drag my gaze off the girl in the ridiculous dress and focus on scrubbing the pan in front of me. “Don’t care,” I mutter. Scrub, scrub, scrub.

I’m aware of her walking toward me, but I don’t look up. I’m good at being invisible, and that’s all I want to be right now.

“I’m Brinley Knox. What’s your name?”

Brinley Knox, the guest of honor. Funny that she asked if she could stay. This is her house, after all.

I feel her gaze on me and realize she’s waiting for an answer. “Marston.” I tense, waiting for her next remark. I get all sorts of shit about my name.

Brinley sniffles, and despite myself, I’m aware of her eyes on me, of every move she makes to close the distance between us. “Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you on staff before.”

Staff. Her family has staff. Of course they do. They live in a freaking mansion and are throwing their daughter a sixteenth birthday party fancier than most people’s weddings.

“I’m new.” I rinse the pan and set it in the rack to dry before pulling the drain on the soapy water. I grab a towel and dry my hands. “Why are you crying?” I can’t imagine ever crying if I lived in a house like this. But what do I know? Maybe her dad hits her. My mom always said dysfunctional doesn’t have an income bracket.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, smudging her bubblegum-pink lipstick. “It’s my birthday,” she says, as if that’s any sort of explanation.

“Shouldn’t that make you happy? It’s your birthday, and your parents threw you this big party.” The sneer I intended to wrap around my words is nowhere in sight. Whatever her problems are, they’re real