Chapter 1 HARD KNOCK LIFE

Adam's POV

For the third time this week, I ripped open the creaky little mailbox at the end of our crumbling driveway and peered inside, my heart racing faster than I care to admit. Empty.

Again.

I rubbed the back of my neck, scanning the street like the postman might magically appear late, waving the letter I’d been waiting for. But the sidewalk was bare except for Mrs. Daniels’ yappy little terrier glaring at me from across the road.

No letter. No fat white envelope with my name crisply printed on the front. No golden ticket to prove my advisor hadn't been kidding when he told me, Adam, you've got this in the bag. With your record and your grades, California State will grab you in a heartbeat.

So where was it?

I jammed my hands into my pockets and pulled myself back towards the house, trying to shake off the unease buzzing in my chest. The scholarship would have come by now. It wasn't about pride. It was about freedom. It was my ticket out of this stifling house, this family who treated me like a shadow that had overstayed.

The door groaned as I pushed it open, the smell of onions fried clinging to the air. The living room was shadowy, curtains drawn despite sunlight trying to filter between the edges.

And then I froze.

My mother was standing there. Tense figure, hands folded, dark hair pulled into its usual abrupt bun. A piece of paper clutched in her hand. Not just any paper.

An envelope. White. Stamped on the corner with the college crest.

My heart racing. "Looking for this, Adam?" she inquired, her tone smooth, slicing at once.

My smile burst open wide. Relief, joy—everything poured in upon me at once. "You got it? That's—oh my God, that's it!" I stretched out for it, the thrill pouring out of me. "I told you, I told you I'd do it. A full scholarship. You and Dad don't have to lay out a single penny for me. I can get out of your hair, finally—"

She cut me off with a half-smile, bitter as dust. "California State University. Impressive." She paused the words hanging, her eyes sparkling, inscrutable.

Something twisted in my belly.

"Yes," I said firmly, trying to ignore the chill in her voice. "I earned this. Every night, every exam, every paper. I earned it."

Her fingers drummed on the envelope with a light condescending stroke. "Oh, pity. Did you know your brother Brian wants to attend California State as well? Such a fine boy, so full of promise. His future shouldn't be. suspended. Perhaps I should have them informed to split this opportunity with him. Their own son.".

My smile trembled. My chest caved in. "What? No—that's not possible. That's my scholarship. I won it. I deserve it."

Her hand snapped across my face before I even realized she'd moved. The sting was hot, throbbing across my skin.

"What was that you just said to me?" She was venom, low and furious. "How dare you speak to me like that? We took you in when no one else would. We fed you, dressed you, raised you out of pity when you were a wretched little waif. And this is our reward? By daring to deprive Brian of something?"

"I didn't—" My voice cracked. I swallowed. "I didn't take it. I worked for it."

Her lip twisted, and she jammed the letter into my chest so hard that it folded a bit. "Ungrateful boy. Take your medicine and go away before your father gets home."

I dropped my eyes, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Arguing did no good. It never did.

My gaze landed on the amber bottle on the counter—my "medicine." The pills I'd been taking since I was six, when they told me I had some kind of immune disorder. I'd never questioned it. Never questioned why the pills made me numb and sleepy, like the edges of my feelings were sanded off every day. They called them "boosters." I called them routine.

With mechanical movements, I opened the cap, popped two into my hand, and swallowed them dry. They left a bitter residue on my tongue.

My mother nodded once and turned away as if I were already dismissed.

I managed to get out before the walls could close in on me, before my chest exploded with pain. My letter—my letter—was still held in my hand, but not so tightly now that it didn't feel like a victory, but like a chain.

I needed air.

Outside, the late afternoon had been warmer than I had expected. The air clung heavy, but at least it hadn't stayed heavy with the smell of onions and bitterness. I shoved the letter into my back pocket and moved, no place in mind. Just away. Away from the house, away from the acrid words that still danced in my head.

I'd only made it down the block when I collided with someone coming around a corner.

Oh—sorry," I said, taking quick steps backward.

The man I'd bumped into glared at me, and time stood still for a moment. He was tall around six-four with dirty blond hair that glinted in the light, blue eyes that sliced like a shard of glass, and a physique that hinted at more than gym work. There was something about him that radiated power, authority.

Excuse me," he whispered, his deep voice commanding but gentle. He pushed past me with a smoothness not at all consistent with his bulk.

But when he walked away, I felt it.

A pull. A strange, intangible pull in the back of my chest, as if an invisible thread had been sewn between us in that instant. My heart was racing, not from the collision, but for something else. Something… instinctual.

I turned around halfway, watching him recede down the street, this inexplicable sensation still tearing at me.

What the fuck was that?

I smoothed my hair, my eyes falling on the broken sidewalk, on the harsh truth I couldn't escape: my mother's words still slicing me up, the scholarship no longer mine, the bitter taste of pills still on my tongue.

I wasn't in the mood for worrying about strange people with weird blue eyes. Not when my entire life was crashing down around me at home.

Even so, the temptation persisted.