I’ve never been on an airplane before.
I’ve especially never been on a private one with leather seats softer than butter. Clean carpeting and little curtains covering the windows. I’m really glad my mother suggested I take a shower and change before we left for the airfield because I would have felt terrible traipsing mud all over the place. Even in my best blue dress, I feel out of place in such luxury.
Now, I sit on a leather bench across from my stepbrother, Tristan, ankles crossed together, my hands wringing in my lap.
Lord in heaven, I’ve never seen anything like him.
His green eyes are the sharpest, most intelligent ones I’ve ever seen. Mama said he’s a politician. An important one who might even be president one day. I can believe it. He looks at me like he’s trying to read every single thought in my head. Well thank goodness he can’t. My thoughts would probably sound incredibly simple or boring to a man like him. He must know every fact and figure in the whole world.
I don’t have a television or anything, but back when daddy was still alive, he used to bring back the Sunday paper from the store. There were always politicians’ pictures in black and white, but I don’t remember a single one of them looking like Tristan. No sir.
He’s beautiful.
Like a movie star or something.
His hair is the color of hickory tree bark after it rains. His eyes remind me of my beloved glen, the one that is now miles below us. A speck in the distance. And since Tristan is trying to read my mind, I try really hard not to think about how he held me in that glen, so close to his big, hard body, his skin smelling of fine cologne. I shouldn’t be hoping he hugs me like that again, should I? I don’t have a lot of experience with family or even people, in general, but I know kin don’t get so close they can feel each other’s breath on their necks.
The memory causes an alarming tingle between my thighs and I quickly cross my legs, watching as Tristan’s green eyes darken to another shade.
“We should discuss plans,” he says in that Yankee accent. “For Cate.”
Mama, who is sitting to my right, perks up. “Yes, that’s a great idea, Tristan. Obviously, she’s going to live with your father and I. At least at the beginning—”
“She’ll have her own place,” Tristan interrupts, reaching toward a sideboard laden with crystal decanters, pouring himself a glass of something amber colored and resting it on his knee. “I’ve already reached out to a realtor. The apartment is being prepared as we speak”
“I…oh,” sputters Mama, trading a glance with her new husband. “May I ask why she’s going to stay somewhere else?”
“The press watches your home closely, as well as mine. I don’t want them speculating on Cate or hounding her.” Tristan’s jaw ticks as he discusses me. “Not until she’s better prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” I ask.
Tristan’s father, Elton…who I guess is my new stepdaddy, answers. “The press can be a little relentless, especially when it comes to Tristan. He’s right to put you somewhere neutral until you know how to deal with aggressive reporters. They’ll no doubt be quite interested in you.”
That seems to annoy Tristan, his eyes darkening another degree. “Exactly how much schooling do you have, Cate?”
My face heats with embarrassment and I can’t help but squirm on the seat. I’ve never been humiliated by my lack of education. I know how to read and count money and fend for myself. Aren’t those the most important skills one can have? But with my gorgeous, sophisticated stepbrother questioning me, I suddenly wish I could curl into a ball. “Um…just about up through the middle of high school, sir. That’s when Daddy got to feeling bad.”
To my relief, Tristan only nods once, no pity or judgment in his expression.
He’s merely taking in information, thoughts taking wing in his mind. Solutions, too, I bet. Lord, he’s so smart. I wish I could be just like him.
I’m distracted from mooning over my stepbrother—which I shouldn’t be doing anyway—when my mother sniffles into a tissue, tears brimming in eyes the same color as mine. “I’m so sorry, Cate. I had no idea your father was ill. I just…I just assumed you two didn’t want to speak to me, after the way I left, and that’s why I never heard from you. I tried calling, but it said the number was unavailable. I thought you’d changed it.”
“Phone died about two months after Daddy,” I say quietly, patting her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mama. You didn’t know.”
“My poor girl. You were all alone,” she hiccups.
“No. I had the fireflies.”
A few silent beats pass until Tristan clears his throat hard. “We’ll hire tutors.” His voice sounds like gravel, his brow knitted. “Someone who can work with her speech and etiquette. Another instructor for academics.”
“I can make an appointment for a house call with my stylist,” suggests my mother.
“Yes,” Tristan says slowly, his eyes traveling down to my crossed legs and back up slowly. “You will give the stylist my number, though. I don’t want a single change made to Cate without my permission.”
My head is starting to spin. “Changes? What do you mean?”
Mama smiles at me gently. “A new haircut, clothes. Things like that. Won’t it be nice?”
I finger the frayed hem of my best dress, feeling another hot flash of embarrassment. Compared to the finery my mother is wearing, it’s a cleaning rag. These people are bringing me into their fold and helping me better myself. And even though I had the fireflies to keep me company in the evenings, there’s no denying how lonely I’ve been. Now I get to have a real family again. Like I used to have, before Mama left. I have people who care enough about me to swoop in on their fancy plane and make plans for my future—and I’m going to be grateful. I’m going to try really hard to be whatever they reckon I should be.
Even if I think the current me is just fine as is. Because maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe I haven’t learned enough to be sure.
“Yes,” I whisper, smiling at the three of them. “That’ll be real nice.”
It’s still dark outside when we land. There is another limousine waiting for us on the tarmac and everyone just climbs inside, like it’s no big deal to fly around in jets and ride around in the backs of limousines all the time. We stop outside a house that makes my jaw drop into my lap, it’s so enormous. Manicured and pristine beneath the stars.
My mother leans over and kisses my cheek. “Good night, Cate. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“You live here?” I whisper, still staring out the window, dumbstruck.
“Yes.” She laughs quietly, but it turns into a yawn. “And I’m definitely overdue in my bed. Tristan is going to bring you to your new place, okay? I’ll be over as soon as I can to see you. You’re not alone anymore. We just have to be careful about this…transition.”
Because they’re not ready to present me to the public.
I nod, hoping she can’t see the pink staining my cheeks. “I know. Good night, Mama.”
“Good night.”
My mother and stepfather climb out of the limousine, but not before Tristan and Elton spend a few moments staring at each other, hard, as if daring the other to back down. I wonder what that’s about.
Somehow with two less people in the back of the limousine, it seems infinitely smaller.
Tristan is across from me, his long legs stretched out and nearly reaching mine. He sits silently, watching me with one arm laid across the back of the leather seat, his jaw bunched like he’s chewing on metal. In the darkness of the vehicle, held captive in the intensity of my stepbrother’s stare, I feel vulnerable. Exposed in my threadbare dress.
“Are you overwhelmed, Cate?”
His deep voice almost makes me gasp, my head aching to fall back against the seat. Just so I can close my eyes and let the gruff, cultured quality of it swallow me like a wave. “Yes,” I whisper. “I don’t want to disappoint anybody.”
The limousine pulls out of the driveway and turns down a tree-lined avenue, silent, dotted with towering streetlamps. One of those lamps lights Tristan’s face long enough for me to see his frown. “You’ve been left to fend for yourself in a hovel and you’re worried about being a disappointment? Perhaps you should be disappointed in the adults who allowed that to happen.”
“I am an adult,” I whisper, though I don’t know why it feels like a secret I’m passing on. “Just this past May.”
Slowly, his fingers curl into a fist where they rest on the seat. “I see.” It takes him a moment to continue. “Still, that wasn’t always the case, was it?”
“No. It wasn’t. But I done just fine and kept on breathing.” I study my knees a moment. When I look back up, he’s staring at them, too. Where they press tightly together, the way I watched my mother do on the plane ride. Ladylike. “Tristan?”
Is that a shiver that passes though him? “Yes?”
I hedge for a few seconds. “Did my mother come to get me ’cause she missed me? Or ’cause she was worried it’d hurt your career if people found out I was all alone down in the marsh?”
A single brow raises. “She missed you.” A pause. “And it would hurt my career.”
“So…both?”
Tristan inclines his head, though making the admission seems to trouble him.
I nod, accepting that information. Trying not to be conflicted over it. Of course there’s a reason they made such a big deal of collecting me fast, quietly under the cover of night. Just like there’s a reason they’re going to keep me in an apartment, teach me things and dress me up. I’m not one of them yet. But do I want to be?
Already, I’m a little homesick for my tire swing and fireflies.
For the creaky floorboards of my house.
Squishy mud between my toes.
I packed up as many of Daddy’s things as I could, but I also miss the memories of him walking through the rooms. His laughter. Even the smell of his menthol cigarettes. We were all each other had for a long time.
“Everything is going to be okay, Cate.”
“I know,” I say, though I’m not as confident as he sounds.
Looking across the seat at my stepbrother, I find myself extremely curious about him. He’s so intense, so laser focused, but every once in a while, I catch him softening when he watches me. I don’t know how to feel about those too-brief slip-ups or how to read him. Does he like me or am I just a responsibility?
My father always used to tell me I asked inappropriate questions and made people uncomfortable. Maybe it’s in his honor that I blurt, “Are you married?”
A vein ticks in his temple. “No.”
“Oh.” Why am I so relieved? “Why?”
He starts to answer, stops. And begins again. “It has been suggested, mostly by my father, that I marry to further my career. Voters like to see a family unit, but I don’t want to make life decisions because they’ll look good on a billboard.” His tone thickens. “And there have been no women I’ve wanted to make time for.”
“You’re making time for me,” I point out without thinking, immediately wishing I could cast a line and reel the words back into my mouth. “B-but I’m your stepsister, so it’s different.”
“Yes.” His gaze bores into mine, then slowly travels down to the bodice of my dress. To the buttons that became harder to close when my breasts came in. “It’s different.”
The limousine rolls to a stop outside a tall building. So tall I have to lean sideways and tilt my head to see the top. It seems to stretch all the way up into the clouds. “No way. Is this where I’m going to live?”
“Yes.” Voice tight, Tristan doesn’t wait for the driver to open the door, but pushes out himself, briskly, as if escaping something. Though he does reach a hand back into the running vehicle to help me out. “Come.”
We hold hands a few seconds longer than necessary after I’ve exited.
Both of us look down at our joined hands and the sight of my small one in his much larger hold tickles something low in my tummy. Tristan makes a sound in his throat, gently rubbing a circle onto the small of my wrist. And I barely stop myself from sagging against him, that one small touch turning me into a beehive of sensation.
What is going on with me?
I shouldn’t want to hold hands with my stepbrother, should I?
Finally, Tristan lets go and steps back, guiding me toward the building with his fingers on the small of my back. A doorman opens the glass double doors for us and we step into a black and white marble hallway with gold accents, green potted plants spaced evenly apart. My mouth is open wide enough to catch files, but I can’t believe this is where I’m going to live. I’ve read about doorman buildings in some of my books and old editions of Daddy’s Sunday paper, but I never expected to see one in real life, let alone call one my home.
Tristan presses a button for the elevator. My first ride in one. Ever.
I’m excited…right until I step into it. And it starts to fly up. Up. All the way to the top of this building that reaches into the clouds? Oh God. Oh God. That’s so high!
“Cate?” I look over at my stepbrother to see him watching me with mounting concern. “Jesus, are you all right?”
I shake my head vigorously.
That’s how I end up in Tristan’s arms, clinging to him like I did in the glen.
Only this time, I don’t know how I’ll ever let go.
