Strength is earned, never given, and always tested.
Chapter 1
Three days ago, I was standing on an actual ledge outside my one-bedroom apartment and looking down at the long drop as I struggled to breathe. Today I’m standing on a metaphorical ledge, looking up at an enormous, unwelcoming home. Breathing isn’t much easier.
Funny how one led to the other.
The lush, green lawn surrounding me is only obstructed by the long, wooden deck that extends from the center of the yard, leading down to the lake beach. The large patch of white sand looks to be imported and stretches from side to side as far as I can see.
Woods surround the home on the back of the house, which is probably the view I’ll have. It’s doubtful there are any lakeside views left available. It’s going to be one hell of an adjustment to go from being an only child to one of four.
The three Nash boys won’t be overly enthused to share their comfortable lifestyle with me, either.
The empty driveway I’m standing in has a circle at the end, and a massive fountain that has a weird abstract sculpture is in the middle. I glance behind me as the cab driver pulls out of the end of the long driveway, heading back to pick up someone else. He’s probably hoping for a better tipper next time.
Sighing, I tug both my suitcases behind me, keeping my purse over my shoulder and a backpack strapped to me as well. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Olivia and Hal won’t be here.
After keying in the code I was given and pushing the door open, I glance back, letting my eyes search the lake one last time. For miles and miles, all I can see is the water straight in front of me. But off to the side, there’s a small island nestled in the middle. It’s definitely something I plan to visit.
Maybe I’ll pack a tent and move out there when this doesn’t work out.
Finally, after taking one last breath, I move inside the house, dreading this with every fiber in my body.
Silence.
Nothing but painstakingly brutal silence.
Mom always had music playing because she knew how much I hate silence. But Hal doesn’t give a damn.
Each creak and rustle seems to echo in the massive entryway. Two staircases start and arch, slowly spiraling upward. Well, hell. That’s going to be a bitch to get my suitcases up. Especially since Hal wouldn’t enjoy scuffs or scratches all over his shiny, dark-cherry hardwood. I forgot all about the damn stairs.
I haven’t been here for over five years, so the staircases didn’t register high on the need-to-remember list.
My throat is dry, considering I slept on the plane and never bothered to get a drink during the three layovers I had. It’s hard to go from New York to Russette, Utah.
Leaving the city to live in the country… It’s odd. No longer am I surrounded by noisy traffic and beautiful skyscrapers. Nature encompasses me now, and the smell—though amazing—is also a little… too new. It’s almost as though there are no scents here at all, but then you hit one patch and your sense of smell is overwhelmed. Or the wind stirs and carries new scents to you all the time.
The second I sneeze, I silently curse, remembering why I hate nature so much. This is going to take some getting used to. I used to only stay for a few short days at a time, back when I still visited my father.
Abandoning my luggage in the foyer, I head toward the kitchen. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I know the layout well enough.
There’s another staircase after I pass through the main part of the house, and I brush my fingers over the smooth banister while I move on, heading all the way toward the back where the kitchen is.
The patio doors are off to the side, and I glance through the windows of them as I pass by, taking in the sizeable pool they seem to have upgraded. Or maybe it was always that big. Who knows?
I’ve always preferred swimming in the lake while I was here, as opposed to playing in a pool. The outdoor area in the back is set up for parties, probably able to hold large quantities of people.
This place is so huge, that it seems to take me forever to reach the kitchen, but when I finally do, it takes me twice as long to find a glass.
No sooner do I pour the water, I hear the front door open and close, the thudding of it echoing through the otherwise silent house. Loud, male laughter fills the vast space, resounding off the walls, but it’s suddenly gone all at once.
“Guess that means she’s here early,” one of them says, though I don’t know which one. I haven’t seen any of the Nash boys since I was fourteen, and that voice is much deeper than any of them were back then.
I’ve only ever seen my three stepbrothers a total of five times. Now I’ll have to finish out my senior year of high school with them, so I suppose I’ll be seeing them all the time.
As I said, I have no luck.
“Did she seriously just leave all her shit down here for us to carry up? Can we say spoiled?” another deep voice asks, singing the last word.
I’ve never been spoiled—ever. My father is wealthy, but my mother never was. So we always lived modestly.
Cackles ignite, and I hear the first voice again. “What the hell are we supposed to do? Did Mom or Hal tell her we’d take the shit up for her? Think the princess would tattle if we left her to deal with her own shit?”
Those are the jokes I’ve been expecting. They always referred to me as the princess.
“Fuck that. Leave it. We have to hurry.” And there’s the third voice. More than likely, given the surly attitude, that’s Ethan.
Their voices turn to mutters as their heavy footfalls echo through the house, and I release the breath I was holding. Deciding to avoid them until they come down, I rush toward the foyer, staying light on my feet so as not to make any noise, and slide my bags into the small alcove under the curved stairs.
Just then, I hear the rumble of laughter again, and the stairs are pounded by the three boys. I don’t want to face them yet, so I dive into the alcove with my luggage, silently cursing my stupid luck the whole time.
“Damn. She must have come and gotten her shit.”
“That was fast. How’d she get by without us seeing her?”
“You know Mom doesn’t want her being alone. Think she’ll get pissed if we leave her here?”
“Who fucking cares? Mom would be here if she was so damn worried,” says the one I assume is Ethan in a bored drawl. “Let’s get to Miranda’s party before the sun sets. Everyone will be too damn drunk to talk if we show up much later. Practice is putting us behind a bunch of them as it is.”
“Speaking of Miranda…”
“How long are you going to fuck that shady piece, Luke?” one groans.
At least I know which one is Luke now, even though I’m not brave enough to peek out and see their faces.
“Better than Elise. When you gonna stop hitting that?”
“I haven’t fucked Elise in at least… two days.”
Their laughter bellows out again as the door shuts, the thick buffer only allowing remnants to slip through, and once again I have a breath to release. If I’m already hiding from them, this is going to be a really long year.