Page 5 of Distortion
Marguerite walksin front of us as Andy gives her a flourishing gesture toward the cars still parked on the gravel close by.
‘Is that really her?’ he asks me quietly. ‘I don’t remember her being ...’
Smoking hot?
Surreptitiously, my gaze travels the length of her body from her shiny dark hair that’s up in a French twist, along slim hourglass curves, and down to her narrow ankles.
I pull at my collar as I give him a smirk. ‘Well, she left, what, nine years ago? She was only a kid.’
We all were.
My eyes lock onto her ass, swaying slightly in that tight, black pencil skirt. Her heels are a bit clompy. Conservative. Like a librarian.
The thought goes straight to my dick, and I just stop the groan I want to let out as I watch Andy catch up to her and fall into step next to her, murmuring in a low voice as he gestures around to the trees.
What the fuck is he talking about with her? The foliage? But she says something back and nods at him. He glances back at me, and his hand moves from his side to behind her, pretending to grab her ass for my benefit. I roll my eyes.
We get to the sleek, stretch town car, and he opens the door for her like a gentleman. She slides into the leatherbackseat with a murmured ‘thank you’. Andy’s eyes lock onto mine, and he bites his fist dramatically.
I nudge him and give him a warning look.
‘Just making sure our sister is settled,’ he says with a wink.
‘She’s not our sister,’ I mutter with a frown.
He raises a brow. ‘Don’t I know it.’
‘C’mon ...’
I glance through the window at her, sitting in the car with her hands in her lap, staring straight ahead. I knew our father had sent for her when April was killed in the crash. I try not to think about that. I miss her a lot. She was the only mom Andy and I ever knew and she tried her hardest to be one to us both, especially after Daisy was taken to the UK.
April couldn’t actually protect us from our father. Not really. John always gets things his way, and that included how he parented his sons. But I never begrudged my stepmom not being able to stand up to him.
Few can.
I let out a small sigh. A part of me was excited to see Marguerite again. We lived as siblings for over a year before they took her to that clinic. We played videogames together in my room sometimes. I looked after her in school when I could. I liked her. I wince as I remember the childlike grin she just gave us.
‘You know she’s not all there,’ I mutter to Andy.
He chuckles. ‘Looks like enough of her is to me.’
My reproachful expression has him putting his hands up. ‘Okay, okay. Marguerite is our sister in every sense of the word. Fine. I won’t do anything inappropriate.’
I snort. ‘Yeah, right.’
Andy goes around the other side of the car and gets in. I take a moment to turn back to look at April’s final resting place on the small hill. She would have liked the spot I picked.
‘Goodbye, mom,’ I whisper, my heart aching as how much I’m going to miss her finally hits me.
It’s like I’m finally realizing I’ll never get a hug from her again. She’ll never fix my tie for me, or make sure I had dinner. She wasn’t my real mom, but she might as well have been.
I wipe my eyes before I get in the car, pushing my grief away for now. There’ll be time for it later. School is about to start and she would want me to do my best in my last year at Richmond.
I close the door. Marguerite is between Andy and me. She’s put on her seatbelt, I note as the car begins to move, and we leave the cemetery.
The ten-minute drive to the house is made in silence. As we arrive at the intricate iron gate, it swings open slowly and the car turns into the long driveway. We pull up on the semicircle in front of the wide marble steps a minute later, and I get out, not waiting for our driver to open it.
I extend my hand to Marguerite, wondering if she’ll take it. She didn’t like being touched, I recall. Wouldn’t even hug her mom. Though there was one time ...
