Page 53 of Black Hearts
I guess that’s a question I’d have to find an answer for, because I couldn’t live the rest of my life not being anything.
She chuckled. “So, what are you, then? A sidepiece? Is that why you came here with, oh, what did Ollie say his name was? Markus. Is he drawing up a contract for his divorce?”
“No.”
“We’re just talking in circles, aren’t we?”
I didn’t know what to say to that, and I slowly whispered, “I don’t think so?” Right when I said it, I knew it was the wrong thing to say, because Kyra laughed again—and this time, she was most definitely laughing at me.
“You really are weird, no offense.” She might’ve been seconds from saying something else, but right then her phone rang, and she pulled her cell out of her pocket and checked the caller. “Sorry, I have to take this.” She got up and answered it, walking away, out into the gardens to talk to whoever it was in private.
I watched her go, wondering what it was like to have friends, someone who called you just to talk. Markus had given me a cell phone when he’d let me go to Hillcrest, but after the thing with Bennet, he’d never given it back. And then there was his blowing up at me after I’d told him about my feelings for the others…
Honestly, a cell phone was the last thing on my mind right now, as was my purpose in life, but after talking to Kyra, that had changed. Not about the cell phone, but about what I wanted to do with my life if things ever settled down.
Did I really want to go to school? Did I want to have a child of my own, raise them to be a much more well-adjusted person than me? Would something like that even be possible if Markus was their father? I mean, I’d seen him with Tori. He loved her, whether he admitted it out loud or not. I think he would be a good dad, the things he oversaw in the basement of the house aside.
Yeah, not sure how any of that would work, honestly.
I sat there for a few more minutes, soaking in the clean air, the gentle breeze. Sitting out here was peaceful. I couldn’t even hear Kyra on the phone; she’d walked so far away. Was it so wrong to just exist for a little while, to not have a thousand things to do? To simply be and not have to prove yourself to anyone?
I leaned back in the chair I was in and shut my eyes. I stretched out my legs, heaved a sigh, and relaxed. For a bit, anyway.
After a while, I heard the door open, the same door I’d ventured out of before, and my eyelids cracked open to see Markus stepping out, a folder in his hand. He gestured for me to get up, and I hauled myself to my feet.
“Did you meet Kyra?” he asked, holding the French door open for me and letting me walk inside first.
“Yeah,” I said. “She’s…” I trailed off, not quite knowing how to describe her.
Markus harrumphed, as if he’d been expecting it. “I know. But she’s had a… difficult start to her life, much like you.” We walked through the house, and he offered no other explanation besides that, and as much as I wanted to ask him more, I also knew it was none of my business.
If Kyra had gone through anything remotely close to what I had with my father, then… then I understood where she was coming from, why she didn’t have great people skills. What Markus had said made the whole interaction with her make more sense.
The vestibule was less than twenty feet away, and we were making a beeline to it, but before we could reach it, someone else came in the house—another girl, this one near Kyra’s age, older than me. In her mid-twenties, maybe. She had long dark brown hair and equally dark eyes, and the moment she laid eyes on Markus, she froze.
Markus stopped, and I skidded to a halt beside him.
Behind the girl, someone else walked in, someone who looked very much like the man beside me, only a younger version. Not as thick with muscle, but still quite tall. Black hair, black eyes, tattoos on his hands and wrists. There were words on his fingers, but we were too far apart; I couldn’t see what they said.
At the sight of us—or rather, at the sight of Markus—the other man said, “Markus.”
My eyes flicked between Markus and the new guy, and it dawned on me that he must be another brother. I racked my brain trying to think of who it could be, but there were so many Scotts, it was hard to keep track.
“Vaughn,” Markus said, frowning at him. “Jaz. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Jaz was Oliver’s stepdaughter, maybe? And Vaughn was indeed a Scott—he’d left the family to be with her. I didn’t know why, didn’t know the story behind their relationship, but in a way, it was kind of sweet. To leave everything you’d ever known behind, all for someone you loved. The ultimate devotion.
“Travis called me,” Vaughn said, while Jaz ducked her head and walked around us, leaving us alone with the new Scott. It was clear she didn't want to be near Markus; perhaps he made her uncomfortable, like he did so many other people. “He filled me in on what’s going on. Dad’s in town. Haven’t seen him in forever.”
“So you came to visit Oliver and our father, then?” Markus didn’t sound too happy. I supposed he wouldn’t be, since Vaughn had chosen Jaz over him and the rest of the family.
“No.” He paused. “Well, sort of. Jaz wanted to see Ollie, but as for our father…” Vaughn took a step toward us, upturning his nose and narrowing his gaze at us. “I’m here for you. Didn’t think you’d be here. Travis should be in later tonight or tomorrow morning. We were going to wait and see you then.”
Markus said, “I’m surprised you care who runs the estate. I figured you wouldn’t want to look back… until you needed something, because the ones who run always do.”
“I didn’t run,” Vaughn replied, folding his arms over his chest. He wore all black; most Scott men did, adopted into the family or not. Black was definitely their color. “And you knew it was coming. It wasn’t like I up and left with no warning.”
Slow to nod, Markus relented, “True enough.” The two men stared at each other for a while, and I didn’t know if I should introduce myself or not. Seeming to realize he wasn’t alone with his brother, he gestured to me. “This is Juliet.”
