Prologue — Oliver

AND SO IT BEGAN:  Six years ago

Spotting the familiar face in the crowd, I moved in the direction of the threesome waiting for me at the airport. My flight had been delayed by an hour and that made me cranky, as did most things these days.

I couldn’t help noticing how wide my mother's smile had grown. She looked so damn content standing there with her new family that I didn’t really know why she’d insisted that I leave my friends to come to this place during the summer vacation. I shoved my way through the throngs of people blocking my way as they reunited with those waiting for them, grimacing as my gaze fell on my new stepsister. I’d only seen her once before, at the wedding, and that was more than enough for me.

The kid looked up at me with huge green eyes and a sweet smile. It irritated the shit out of me. I already hated her and her father for making my mother move back there from Los Angeles. “Hi, Oliver,” she said as I approached, dimples appearing in each cheek. “Welcome back.”

I grunted something back at her, pissed off because she was being sweet to me. If anyone thought I was going to play the role of an adoring older brother, I had a surprise waiting for them—all I wanted was for her to stay the fuck out of my way.

I glared at my new stepfather. He was standing behind the gangly kid, his hand resting on her shoulder and squeezing lightly.  He was to blame for all this bullshit.

My gaze shifted to my mother who stood beside the distinguished looking man with his graying temples and welcoming smile. Hooked into his arm, she leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “Oliver, I’m so happy that you’ve come. Sorry your flight was delayed, honey, I know how you hate that.”

“Hey, Mom,” I said, not even cracking a smile.

She kept up the over friendly chatter she always did when she was nervous. “Once we get home you can relax and take a swim. I cooked your favorite meal for dinner. Maya has already set the table—she’s that excited to see her stepbrother.”

Maya stood there grinning up at me as if she was waiting for me to pet her head like a puppy. “I picked flowers from the garden for your bedroom. I'm so glad you’re going to stay for a few weeks this time. Maybe we can hang out?” she said, all bright and bubbly.

My stomach churned. Jesus, this love fest is going to make me sick. I didn’t want any part of it.

Once I was legally an adult, I wasn’t returning if I could help it. Until then, I’d have to grin and bear it—my inheritance didn't kick in until my eighteenth birthday. It was going to be the longest two years of my screwed up life.

“Hello, Oliver,” my stepdad said, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. I looked away, ignoring the older man’s outstretched hand as I pulled my mother into a quick hug, then let her go and headed for the carousel to collect my luggage.

Fifteen minutes later, I was staring out the car window as we drove to my mother’s new home. The kid sat silently beside me, her gaze drinking me in. I was glad everyone had stopped their happy chattering from earlier; it made my head hurt.

‘What are you staring at?’ I snarled, unnerved by the way she made me feel—as if her eyes saw right through me. She was twelve going on twenty.

Lowering her head, she bit into her lip and studied her nails. She had beautiful hands with long sleek fingers. Her brows knitted together and her mouth turned downward. She was hurt, but what the fuck did I care? I’d be gone before long. 

Both my mother and her new husband tried to engage me in conversation on the ride back to their place, but they quickly gave up when I just grunted a “yes” or “no” in response. Mom sighed and placed her palm on the prick’s lap. He squeezed her hand then turned his head to smile at her.

“Hey, old man, eyes on the road.” Ever since my dad had died in a car accident not far from there, I couldn’t stand when people didn’t give driving their full attention.

“It's okay, sweetheart, Alec is a good driver. He's much more careful than your father. He’ll get us home safely.”

That comment made my blood boil. “Why would you say shit like that about my father?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said as she squirmed in her seat.

“We need to have a talk when we get to the house,” the old man threatened.

“Like hell. Just because you’re married to my mother, that doesn’t make you my father.” I turned to the kid, whose head had snapped up. Her eyes widened in shock. “Nor does that make this kid my sister. So don’t expect me to be nice or brotherly or any of that screwed up shit. I'm not going to play happy families with you.”

Mom sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything. She knew how I felt about her coming back to the place that had caused us so much unhappiness. Why couldn’t she have met and married someone in LA and started her new life there instead of running back to this place and dumping me at boarding school?

Apparently big cities weren’t for her and she missed Santa Barbara. Yeah right. I doubted that was true after everything we’d been through in the years we’d lived there. A few weeks later the truth came out. She was marrying a plastic surgeon—she’d known the guy even before my dad’s accident. He’d been making a killing off her cosmetic surgery addiction. Hell, she’d probably paid for this car with the amount of work she’d had done.

My stepfather patted Mom’s hand reassuringly. “Larissa, sweetheart, don’t be upset. Oliver and I will have a man-to-man talk about his attitude when we get to the house.”

Groaning, I folded my arms across my chest. Great. Now my attitude was a problem. What the fuck did he expect? For me to be all sweet with everything that happened in spite of being left to fend for myself in LA?

I caught a glimpse of the kid’s face. Pity. That’s what she was feeling for me. I didn’t need a kid four years younger feeling sorry for me. That was just fucked up.

Pissed off, I turned my body away and watched the scenery as we drove by, hating everything I saw. To no-one in particular, I said, “Yeah, judge me. How would you feel if your mother married someone only six months after your father died and you were forced to go back to a place you hated?”

Yeah, I had issues. Anger management being only one of them.

Nobody said a word. Good. Silence was far better. The kid turned to stare out of the window and Alec squeezed Mom’s hand. I plugged my earphones in and turned up the music until it drowned everything else out.

I had a plan—I’d stay in my bedroom for most of the time, maybe swim during the day, but otherwise I was avoiding everyone until it was time to go back to LA.

And the kid? If she knew what was good for her, she’d stay the fuck out of my way. I certainly didn’t need her sweet ways or her pity. What would she know about being abandoned by a parent? She didn’t have a fucking clue.