Hanging Pawns (The Fate Series Book 2) (7 page)

In my family people are measured by their bank accounts and their looks. I’m always told I look like my mother, but if you ask me, I look more like my father. Which automatically put me at a disadvantage when it came to my mother since I’m pretty sure my parents hate each other, and I was a daily reminder of him. You see, while my sisters got anything and everything they ever wanted, I had to earn whatever it was I needed… including her attention. I gave up on getting any form of real love out of that woman when I turned twelve. Twelve… that was the year I learned just how much I meant to my parents. My father was away, and my mother couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge me. Instead the housekeepers and kitchen staff threw me a party and Elaina, my nanny, took me to Coney Island. Ironically, it was the best birthday I had ever had and taught me a lot about people. Unfortunately, I never saw Elaina after that day. She was fired, and I was left alone in a house full of people who hated me. Not even the staff would look at me after that day for fear of their own jobs. That day was the day I knew I could never grow up to be what they wanted. I was shown more love by Elaina than anyone in my life. I guess I love my mother because she is my mother, but other than that, I hate the bitch.

My father? I just wish I knew what I did wrong.

A lump forms in my throat, and I push myself harder. My feet pound against the pavement as the pain envelopes me. The rubber of my soles grip the ground when they connect for seconds at a time. It’s a freeing feeling and the only reason I still run. It was my escape for years. It made her happy, thinking she was getting somewhere with me. What she didn’t know was I used it to erase her from my thoughts.

I round a corner, running up a small hill that leads toward a park I saw on the map.  I collapse to my knees when I make it to the park. Tugging on the speaker cords, they fall out and land on the ground under me. I lean forward, digging my fingers into the earth, gasping for as much air as my lungs will allow. My pulse begins to slow into a deep thump until it calms down enough to return back to its normal rate. Once I’m ready, I stand up to get a drink and notice the gravel I hit when I fell has caused my knees to bleed. Taking off the mesh shirt I put on over my sports bra, I slowly walk over to a water fountain and soak it to clean myself up. The cold water stings when it hits my skin but soon my legs are almost completely dirt free, leaving only the angry red cuts behind.

I decide to lie on the grass for a while and let my legs dry instead of heading straight home. Being outside is something I wasn’t really allowed to do as a child, so I might as well bask in my newfound freedom. Closing my eyes, I replay countless fights my mother and I had in my father’s office when he wasn’t home. His office was the one place she knew she could get away with treating me like I was something she had stepped in.

“The next time you leave this house, I can guarantee you, it will be your last,” she threatened me from across the desk.
I went to her that day, right on time just like she told me. It would be the last time though. I knew she would look for me if I didn’t show, and I needed to give myself enough time. So I stayed, and she was right, the next time I left was going to be my last.

I lie here listening to the background sounds of the area; cars driving by, kids yelling to their parents on their way to school.

Life.

This is what I couldn’t wait for and I am going to live every
second
of it… my way. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here, but I think it’s time to go back.

Sitting up, I flip my shirt back on, and with a painful thrust forward, stand up. I walk home in silence trying to ignore the simpering whines coming from my legs. Instead I focus on studying my new town. It’s calm, peaceful, and nothing like where I came from.

I could live here forever.

Walking up the steps slowly, the slight burn that was taunting me the entire walk home spreads into an inferno with each bend of my knees. I take shallow breaths through my teeth as I make it up to the front door and let myself in.

“Where the hell have you been? Josh said you have class at eleven today and you went for a run at seven?” Morgan says, her voice filled with worry.

I look at her in confusion.

“Yeah, that’s true. What’s wrong?” I watch her frantic movements.

“Well it’s ten thirty, and you’re just getting back. Where did you go? And why do you look like you got beat up?” She pulls at my arms.

“It’s ten thirty?” I look around for a clock. Forgetting about the pain, I take the steps two at a time, instantly regretting it as my skin screams in pain with the sudden movement.

“No, it’s okay! I’ll just worry about you being dead in a ditch somewhere, because ya know... I have nothing better to do with my day!” she shouts up the steps after me.

“I’m sorry!” I yell back to her.

“Yeah, you better freaking be sorry!” she hollers at me.

Is she always like this?

Once I get to my room, I quickly stick my legs in the shower to wash them down with soap. Small whimpers escape my mouth and I bite my lip hard to silence myself. Once they’re dried off, I put Band-Aids over the really bad parts and slide on a pair of yoga pants before tossing a loose sweatshirt over my head and slipping my sneakers back on. Grabbing my books, I walk as fast as I can sideways down the steps toward the front door where my purse is hanging on a hook on the side of the door.

“I’ll explain later! See ya!” I yell out.

“Yeah, you’re damn right you will!” Morgan retorts.

Shutting the door behind me, I painfully ouch my way down the steps toward my car.

“I am going over to the campus now if you want a ride,” I hear Josh say from the porch behind me.

Of course he is. 

The idea of having to use my legs to work the pedals makes me wince again in pain. With a heavy sigh I shuffle over to what I recognize to be his brand new Aston Martin Vanquish. He comes up behind me, opening the passenger door then he motions for me to get in.

“This is a joke, right?” I ask. Confusion sweeps over his face as he thinks about what I just said. “I am not getting in a car that is designed to make girls’ “panties hit the ground” when you drive by.” I pull out the air quotes.

“It is not designed for that reason. It’s made to-” he begins but I cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah… It’s made to be raced not just driven. I know… I know… We are taking my car.” I point to my car.

“Did you hit your head? I’m surprised that thing drove here. If we drive it back one of us is going to die, and I honestly can’t even bet that it would be the car.” His shoulders raise when his hands flail around.

“It’s not going to die,” I chuckle.

“What about us?” He eyes me.

“What? You’re crazy! That car is perfectly safe.” I throw my arm toward the car.

“Puh—I can’t even repeat that it’s so outlandish!” he scoffs. “That is a death trap.” He walks over, opening the driver’s side door to pop the hood.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I walk as fast as I can behind him, ignoring the zap of pain in my knees.

“I’m showing you what danger looks like, obviously one of us doesn’t know what the phrase ‘death trap’ means.” The sarcasm rolls off his tongue.

I reach out, my hand slapping against the hood. “No need, we can just take yours. I think I’m low on gas, and well… there was a smell coming from… somewhere. Besides, yours is panty-dropping hot. And fast. Girls love panty… dropping… fast things… right?” My mouth becomes dry.

What am I talking about? And how many times are you going to say panty-dropping to the guy, Mea?

His brows shoot up in surprise as I wave my car off and gush over his. I wedge myself between his body and the bumper to sit and lock the hood back down.

“What do you say?” My teeth sink into my lip with nervous anticipation.

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “So… what you’re saying is, you want to drive? You could have just asked instead of getting your panties all worked up,” he teases, tossing the keys at me. My stomach twists when he says panties and my face flushes.

Fantastic, that will really help shake the guy.

His hands wrap around my arms to stand me up and he walks away to get into the passenger seat, leaving me standing behind his car staring blankly at the keys in my hand.

That isn’t what I meant at all.

Who lets someone they don’t know drive their car?

“The longer you stand there holding the keys, the later we’re going to be. Grab those panties and let’s go, speed racer!” he yells to me from inside the car.

I will never live this down.

Walking around to the driver’s side, I open the door and slide in, wincing at the pain that burns across my knees. I swallow hard, reaching for the door to shut it.

So much for not wanting to drive…

“I am not going to ask how you know what kind of car this is or what it can do…” he says.

I can feel the heat of his stare on the side of my face as I start the car up.

“You aren’t?” I say with as much nonchalance as I can gather. Turning my head to meet his gaze, I can tell he sees right through me.

“Nope, I’m going to wait for you to tell me. So, when you’re ready you can explain it all.” He gestures his hand to the road.

“It all?” I swallow hard, trying to not, as my mother would say, wear my emotions on my face.

“Yes, it all. Darlin’, you have expensive clothes but a shitty…” he hesitates when my brows knit together. “I mean… but that… uh
classic
car. All those expensive clothes were still on hangers and tied together instead of packed in an equally expensive suitcase and now it seems you, a girl who drives…
classic
cars—” He winks at me. “—knows an awful lot about mine. Something isn’t adding up, but that is for you to tell and for me to wait until you’re ready,” he finishes.

Biting my bottom lip, I turn back to face the road.

“I don’t pretend to know women very well, I can admit that,” he says. I shift back to see where this is going. “I have a sister who thinks she’s in love with one of our mutual friends… guys a real asshole. I don’t know what she sees in him,” he shrugs.

My brow rises. “Okay…?” I wait for him to make his point.

“I know girls are mysterious creatures and always changing, but your fashion sense is all over the place. I’m not gay by the way and it’s stereotypical to think that I am because I know who designers are.” His eyes narrow on me, and I nod. “That being said, even a straight man can tell you seem lost as to how you want to present yourself to the world.” The expression on his face says, ‘tell me all your secrets, pretty lady.’

Fat chance.

I white knuckle the steering wheel, contemplating what to say.

Stupid man, why does he have to care so much?

“I—I don’t know where I am going,” I mumble. The words manage to come out calm even though my insides are filled with nerves.

“Okay then. Just pull out and I will tell you where to go.” He points forward and with that the conversation is dropped.

I wonder how long he is really going to play this nice guy act.

After a few minutes of being on the road it begins to drizzle, and I hit the wipers so I can see.

“Hmm,” he hums from his seat.

I shift my attention to him to ask ‘what’ when I notice he is nose deep in a book.

Maybe this will be a nice quiet ride…

“Favorite color?” he asks.

After about a million, not really… more like twenty or so questions, which have made for a not-so-quiet ride, we pull into the student parking lot. I put the car into park and turn off the engine, the rain pounding against the outside of the car.

“It’s pink… and thanks, that was fun,” I say, tossing the keys at him.

Grabbing onto the handle on the door, I move to get out and make a run for it when his hand grasps my elbow.

“You’re just going to run out into the rain? Don’t you want to wait until it lets up?” he asks, looking away from me and craning his neck to peer outside.

Uh, yes… yes I am about to run in the rain. The idea of another round of ‘What’s your favorite…’ doesn’t sound exciting.

Besides how often does one get to run through something as wonderful as a rainstorm? By the looks of Josh, he has avoided adventures like this because he takes it for granted. As the sun will always shine for him, the rain will always fall, and he will never notice because it’s constant.

To most of you the rain is an obstacle, a nuisance… but imagine never knowing what it feels like on your skin because… well… you were forbidden to do such childish acts. Now tell me you wouldn’t run off with wild abandonment into the storm.

“I’m already walking into my first class late. I shouldn’t wait any longer,” I shrug. Slipping off my sneakers, I roll up my pants and stuff my socks, shoes and books into my bag.

“Wait, what are you doing?” he asks, watching me closely.

“Running to class.” I look at him, his face filled with wonder at why I’m barefoot. “I don’t want to get my shoes wet because then I’ll have to spend the rest of the day with wet shoes,” I explain, looking at him like it should be obvious.