Chapter 7

Evangeline

Three days later, Dad embraces me as his ride waits in the driveway. "I'm so sorry, Pumpkin."

"Dad, stop apologizing," I reply with a laugh. "I completely understand. I'm not going to die of loneliness. I probably still have a few friends around here, and I'll see if anyone's available."

"You will?" he asks. "Really?"

I hadn't actually planned on doing that, but I agree now to make him feel better. "Yes, I will."

"Okay. Stay safe. Remember Leonard will be here soon, probably later tonight."

"Got it. Love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Evangeline."

He gets into the car, and I wave goodbye, forcing a smile. Do I wish he'd stay home and take care of me for the next few weeks while I find a job and a place to rent? Absolutely. But I can't disrupt his life just because Chanel and Thomas disrupted mine.

Once his car disappears down the driveway, I take a deep breath, go back inside, and change into my bathing suit. I can alternate between swimming, relaxing, and searching online for French teaching job openings.

Now that I'm single, I'm not tied to any specific location. I can even move to a different country if I want to. This could be exciting, right? A new adventure.

Armed with a hard lemonade, my phone, a wireless speaker for music, and a bowl of cherries from the trees Dad picked in the front yard, I head out to the backyard.

My life might be in chaos, but that's no reason to waste a perfectly beautiful summer day.

Leonard

I let myself into Mark’s place with a sigh. This’ll be my base of operations for the next couple of weeks. I tied up some business at a new casino in Nevada yesterday, and now I’ll be helping the San Esteban build get back on track. I like Sims, I really do, but if he’s going to let guys like that Holding character walk all over him, he might not be the right man for this job.

Mark’s house is about an hour from San Esteban. Not super ideal, but better than living out of a hotel. I never liked hotels. Soulless. And Mark is the closest I have to family. His dad and my mom got together when I was five and he was twelve. I’m sure I annoyed the shit out of him, but he was a good stepbrother.

The house alarm isn’t armed, which confirms my suspicions—Mark’s daughter is here. Evangeline. Mark said I could take his room instead of the guest room, and I’ll appreciate the space to spread out.

As much as I want to stay out of my niece’s way, Mark asked a special favor this time.

“I didn’t know when I agreed to let her stay,” he said over the phone, “but she’s been through a lot in the past month, Link. Promise me you’ll watch over her, make sure she’s all right? Maybe hang around the house more than you usually would? I hate the thought of her being lonely after everything.”

“Everything what? What happened to her?” I asked, feeling surprisingly protective of this girl I’ve never met. “Do I need to kick some ass?”

“I wish,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll keep her company?”

“Yeah, of course. I promise.”

Now in his house, I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. Music plays outside, sugar-sweet pop music. Evangeline must be hanging out by the pool. That music sure doesn’t sound depressed or traumatized, but listening to it might make me feel that way.

I make my way down the hall to the master bedroom, passing the framed photos set up on a narrow table. For the first time, looking at the pictures of Evangeline gives me an uncomfortable feeling. I know she and Mark had a falling-out because of me. Mark doesn’t blame me, but I’ve always felt a twinge of guilt over it.

But, no, my discomfort stems from something else this time. There’s an element of familiarity to these images.

Pale blond hair. Big, innocent blue eyes. A slightly crooked, mischievous smile.

Wait just one fucking second.

Evangeline.

Evie.

Evie.

No, it can’t be. How did I not see it before? How didn’t I recognize her at the club? All of these photos are of a child, and it definitely wasn’t a child I hooked up with.

Fuck, fuck. Fuck. My heart kicks into hyper speed. This…this is not good. “Not good” is an understatement; this is cataclysmically fucked up.

I have to get out of here. I have to fucking leave. I can’t stay here, I can’t even look Mark in the eyes. He’s going to kill me. I would deserve it. A hundred percent.

The other night, at Vice?

I fucked my step-brother’s daughter.

My legs are numb, but I force them to back up. I’ll simply leave the way I came, lock up, and disappear.

But then she steps into the hallway, and I’m struck all over again by those beautiful blue eyes.