Cherry Creek (2 page)

Chapter One

It’s been four days since Brad tried to kill me. Four days of hiding out in the apartment, unable to move on with life. Of course, with Brad in a coma and with the police investigating the case, it’s been question after question. It’s hard to put something horrible out of your mind when you’re regularly forced to relive it.

I haven’t gone back to my job yet either, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be fired. Being fired doesn’t seem nearly as important as it had a few days ago. There is absolutely no way that I can put aside the horror of what I’d just gone through, to go work at the diner. I’m sure I’d mix up orders all day, because I can’t seem to concentrate on anything other than the memory of splitting open Brad’s skull. Besides, Brad’s attack on me made the local newspaper and was on the news the first few nights after it happened. My name and face has been splashed across the news, and we’ve even had reporters show up on our doorstep. I’m in hiding until further notice.

“Do you want me to pick up anything?” my mom asks as she enters the small living room. She’s zipping up her well-worn purse and looking at me questioningly. Tonight’s her night off from where she works, so she’s leaving to get groceries while I stay camped out on the couch, watching re-runs of a sitcom on our small portable TV.

I’m betting she barely even has enough money to get the bare necessities to fill the battered cupboards, so I shake my head.

She nods, sweeping her blonde bangs away from her eyes. “Don’t answer the door while I’m gone,” she tells me.

“I know.”

Her light blue eyes scan me, taking in my long hair pulled up in a sloppy bun and the old tank I’m wearing along with a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee. Her eyes soften. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Livvy. You know that, right?”

My lips flatten, and I turn my head to stare at the TV moodily. “I know. He was going to kill me. But it’s still my fault he’s in a coma.” Before she can answer, a curt knock draws our attention to the apartment door. I can’t help but tense up. Who is it now?

With a resigned sigh, my mom sets her purse on the couch and walks to the door. She swings it open, but from where I’m sitting, I can’t see who it is because the now opened door blocks the doorway. Her entire body seems to freeze as she stares at whoever had knocked. “Can I help you?” she asks in an oddly friendly tone. I recognize that tone. It’s the tone she uses when she’s flirting. Evidently, it’s a man. If he’s a cute reporter, I might be screwed. I’ve requested that my mom refrain from giving any interviews, and she’s respected my wishes. I just want this all to go away.

A masculine voice murmurs something too low for me to hear, and I watch her curiously. My mom’s head tilts, and she listens intently for a moment. When he’s finished speaking, she glances back at me briefly before she looks at him again. “If you’re a reporter…” she begins. I can’t hear his reply. “All right. Just let me get my purse,” she says lightly. She turns from the door and walks back to the couch.

“Who is it?” I ask with a frown. The man hasn’t stepped inside, and he’s still blocked from my view.

“Just someone who wants to talk to me,” she says as she slips her purse over her shoulder, her blue eyes gleaming.

“Mom…”

“I don’t think he’s a reporter. We’re just going to grab something to eat, and then I’ll be back,” she promises before she walks back to the door and disappears, firmly shutting the door behind her.

I stare after her and scowl. My mom is so gullible. She’ll believe anything if the guy is cute enough. A sigh escapes me as I turn my attention back to the TV. I can’t control anything she says, so if he’s a reporter, there’s nothing I can do about it.

My thoughts shift back to Brad, and guilt eats at my insides. A week ago I never would have imagined that my life could change so drastically. I never thought Brad would ever try to hurt me, but I have the dark bruises around my throat to prove it. I think the physical proof that Brad attacked me is the only thing that’s keeping his parents from filing charges against me for putting their son in the hospital.

My head begins to throb slightly, and I try to shove the attack out of my mind. I close my eyes and try to relax, taking slow deep breaths. Ever since the attack, I’ve felt anxious, as if I can’t come down from the adrenaline rush I’d had when I’d fought for my life. It’s with me all the time, and I haven’t been able to sleep much lately. Mom says the shock of it all will eventually wear off, and things will go back to normal. We’ll see.

I must have fallen asleep, because the sound of the key in the lock has me waking up with a start. I blink and look around, taking in the lamp I’d left on and the fact that I’m still on the couch. The apartment door swings open, and my mom steps inside, followed by a man. She brought him back here? Great. She’s brought men home before, and no matter how quiet they try to be, I can still hear them in her room. The last thing I need tonight is to listen to my mom have sex.

As I study the man, I realize he’s not her usual type. Not at all. The man looks loaded, and he’s younger than my mom by at least several years, because he looks to be in his mid-to-late twenties. I scan his short, cropped dark blond hair and dark, navy blue eyes. His features are aristocratic, and the curve of his mouth has an arrogant look about it. Going by the designer clothes he’s wearing along with the flashy watch on his left wrist, I’m guessing he’s a man that’s used to getting his own way. Why would he have any interest in my mom? His type usually gravitates to wealthy socialites, not poor waitresses in threadbare clothing that’s seen better days.

My mom steps forward and smiles at me. “Livvy, meet Khristos, your uncle,” she announces.

Uncle? I stare at her with puzzlement before glancing back at him with confusion. My mom doesn’t have any brothers, and she doesn’t even remember who my father is. I’m the product of a one-night stand.

Khristos slips his hands in the front pockets of his dark pants and studies me with those dark eyes of his. “Hello, Livvy.”

Even the sound of his voice sounds rich, and I swear there’s a slight hint of an accent somewhere within it, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. “Hi,” I say politely before I rise to my feet, my attention turning back to my mom. “How exactly is he my uncle?”

“He’s my half-brother. We share the same father but different mothers. I knew of him, but this is the first time we’ve met,” she explains to me.

I glance at him, scanning him from head to toe as I once again take in his designer clothing. He’s got ‘wealth’ written all over him. There is no way my mom would neglect to mention a rich half-brother. If she’d known of him, she would have been trying to glean money off him years ago. My mom has a strong work ethic, and I have to admit she works hard, but if someone’s willing to give her handouts, she’ll take it. I can’t help but feel a bit suspicious. My mom’s parents died several years ago in a car accident, but they’d never once mentioned my mom had a younger sibling.

“Khristos has been meaning to introduce himself for a while now, but after hearing what happened…” my mom’s voice trails off.

“I thought I’d drop in and check up on you both,” Khristos finishes. His eyes linger on my throat, and I see them darken with an emotion that I can’t even begin to decipher.

The attention he’s focusing on the ugly bruises has me reaching up and touching the tender skin self-consciously. Suddenly, I’m aware of how frumpy I look. Plus, I hadn’t bothered to take a shower today. It’s not like I want to impress him, but I’m usually a little more put together, even if my wardrobe is meager at best.

My mom clears her throat. “You look tired, Livvy. Why don’t you try to get some sleep. You can talk more with Khristos tomorrow,” she suggests.

I look at her intently, and I can see an odd sort of excitement in her gaze. Either something’s up, or she’s hoping to get some sort of financial aid from him. If that’s the case, I don’t want to stick around and watch her hint for handouts. “I think I will. Um, it was nice meeting you, Khristos,” I say lightly but also a bit warily.

“You too, Livvy. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

After a brief moment, I tear my eyes from his and turn to leave the living room. Why is he here? I feel like there’s something else going on, but I’m not in the mood to figure it out. I have enough going on at the moment, I don’t need to add to it.

***

The next morning, I find my mom’s ‘supposed’ brother in our living room when I wander out of my room in search of breakfast. He looks odd sitting on our ratty couch in his nice clothing. Today it’s a casual long-sleeved shirt and dark pants. It might look casual, mind you, but even from here I can tell the material is costly. My mom is sitting on the opposite side of the couch, drinking coffee. Her eyes are trained on him with absolute fascination.

I’m telling you, he can’t be her brother. Like I said before, she wouldn’t neglect to tell me something this important. She’s also got that gleam in her eye that says she thinks he’s hot. Sisters do not flirt with brothers. Even half-brothers, at that.

Khristos notices me first, and his eyes lock on mine. “Morning, Livvy.”

Why is he here so early? Did he stay the night? I would think not, because by the looks of him, he can easily afford a hotel room. Or a suite. Hell, probably a penthouse suite. Or had he literally stayed
with
my mom? If he’s not her brother than they could have… I so do not want to go there. No one wants to think of or even imagine their parent or parents having sex. Gross. But if he’s not her brother, why lie? What would be the reason for it?

My mom clears her throat deliberately, and I realize I’ve been lost in thought, completely ignoring Khristos’s greeting. “Morning,” I murmur before I turn and go to the kitchen. I search the cupboards for some cereal and find that my mom hadn’t had the chance to get groceries yesterday. I spy a box of granola bars and pull it out, only to find that it’s empty.

“Why don’t I take you both out to eat,” Khristos suggests smoothly.

I can’t resist glancing at him with annoyance. My mom might take handouts, but I don’t.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” my mom immediately announces. She smiles hugely as she rises to her feet. “We’ll be ready in five,” she assures him as she walks towards me.

Is she serious? I give her a look as she nears me. “I don’t want to go anywhere,” I protest.

“It’s just for a little bit,” she says, nudging me out of the kitchen.

I allow her to pull me into the hall, and then she hustles me into my bedroom. “Mom! He’s not your brother, is he? What’s the point of lying?” I ask as I turn to her, crossing my arms over my chest.

“He’s my brother,” she says simply. Then, she gives me a parental look of authority that she rarely ever uses with me. “Now, get dressed. He has some things to discuss with us.”

“Like what?” I ask suspiciously.

“You’ll find out over breakfast.”

“I haven’t even taken a shower.”

“Two minutes,” she warns.

I give her a look and hurry towards the bathroom. I take a quick shower and braid my wet hair so it looks halfway decent. I slip on a pair of fresh jeans along with a cute teal blue shirt before sliding my feet into sandals.

Before I know it, Khristos is escorting us to an expensive looking SUV parked outside our apartment complex. I get goose bumps as I climb into the back seat so my mom can sit up front with him. I’ve never been in a vehicle this expensive before. It feels weird, and I don’t like feeling out of my element. I’m not a control freak by any means, but rich people are way outside of my comfort zone.

As Khristos expertly maneuvers the vehicle through the morning traffic, my mom tries to draw him into a conversation. I watch them intently as they interact. She’s interested in him, it’s in her body language and the way she looks at him. He, on the other hand, is much more reserved. He doesn’t seem like much of a conversationalist, so he only speaks when she asks a question. I’m glad to see that the interest doesn’t seem to be mutual. It’s kind of unsettling that my mom finds her own brother attractive. The fact that she does is what has me suspicious of this entire ‘half-brother’ thing. I just get this feeling that there’s more going on than they’re admitting.

I’m relieved when Khristos pulls into your regular run of the mill restaurant that serves breakfast. I’m thankful he chose a normal place versus a classier one. Of course, neither I nor my mom could pass as classy, so I’m guessing he’s wanting to save himself the embarrassment. 

We’re seated promptly, and I feel chilled, because the restaurant has their air-conditioning up high today. It’s supposed to be a scorcher, but as of right now, it’s only in the mid-seventies. As I gaze at my menu, I can’t help but think that this summer royally sucks. It’s just barely began, and my ex-boyfriend has already tried to kill me. Maybe I should be grateful that I have the entire summer ahead of me. School’s going to be a nightmare in the fall. It’s bad enough my only two friends I’ve made at school in the past year are ignoring my phone calls. I don’t have any close friends. All my friends are basically Brad’s friends. They’ve all known him their entire life while I am the newbie that moved here a year and a half ago. Of course, they’ll take Brad’s side over mine.

“Livvy?”

“Hm?” I ask as I glance up at my mom. I realize that a waitress has approached us and is waiting for my order. I try not to flush and order the first thing I see as I glance down at the menu. When the waitress walks away, I reach for my ice water and take a much needed sip.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Livvy? I’d like to get to know you better,” Khristos comments as he studies me from across the table.

“Uh, sure.”

“Are you okay with discussing Brad Leske?”

My body goes tense, and my eyes dart back to my mom. How can she be sure he’s not a reporter?

She sees the doubt in my eyes, and she gives me a reassuring look. “He’s not a reporter. He doesn’t even live here. He’s from Minnesota.”