“Violet Wonders,” is all I say.
She snorts. “He still has his panties in a twist over them, huh? Ridiculous. Kyler always hated how much you loved them. Said you were wasting passion on ‘tragically untalented people’ when he realized you were a fan, but I think he’s just jealous you never liked Single Division as much.” Considering the shirt I wore the day we met, it sounds like he’s been irritated over it for the past six years. I’m not even a little sorry though. His band was good, but they weren’t my favorite. Plus, he’s way better as a solo artist.
One of my brows quirks as I study Kyler inquisitively. “Did he say that now?” That captures his attention, his eyes questioning what his sister is telling me. He wiggles his fingers at me like he wants the phone, but I shake my head and point to the road, silently reminding him that he’s driving. “I guess that makes sense. He found out Garrick gave me alcohol when I met the group that one time.”
“Wait,” Ky blurts out. “Did my sister know about that?”
Mia must hear him because she says, “Put me on speaker, would you, Len?” I do as she says, holding the phone in my palm. “Of course, I knew. I gave her a high five. Who better to share your first drinking experience with?”
Kyler spits and sputters, curse words flying out, rants that don’t make any sense, all while his sister and I laugh at his outburst. He’s always like this. Overprotective to a fault. It’s kind of nice though, like no time has passed at all. It gives me the sense of belonging that I never felt with Mom, because she also would have high fived me if she knew I drank with someone like Garrick.
“Anyway,” Mia pushes on, “I don’t see what you two have to talk about. If you found a house you like, take it. Properties don’t last long on the market here. There’s always someone rich ready to fork over a shit ton of cash the first chance they get. Don’t miss out on something nice by overthinking.”
Kyler just shakes his head, though he’s probably thinking about how Mia’s right. Again. Instead, he says, “The last house we saw would be perfect. There aren’t any neighbors directly nearby and the garage is behind the house which means people can’t see us getting in and out when they figure out where we moved.”
I rub my arm, thinking about how nice that perk is considering what’s happened in the past with paparazzi always being close by to snap a picture and yell obscurities. “It’s not like it isn’t a great place, but I’m not sure it’s smart.”
“Smart?” he repeats dryly. “Mia, she’ll call you back.” Before I can argue, he grabs my phone and ends the call, flinging it behind us until it lands in a thud somewhere in the back.
“Hey!” I protest, twisting around and trying to figure out where it landed.
“Your phone is a piece of crap anyway,” he tells me bluntly. “Surprised you haven’t sliced your fingers open on that damn screen.”
“It’s old,” I defend. Not seeing it, I sigh and turn back around. The cell is also an old one of my mother’s. It’s one of the few items of hers I have left. Cracked screen and all, it still works relatively well. It took forever to get a new number because the original one kept getting suggestive texts and pictures that my eyes did not need to see.
“I’ll get you a new one.”
“No, you will not!”
“Leighton.”
“Kyler.” Does he not understand my problem? He’s never had to struggle with money or the pride in earning something when you come from nothing. I palm my eyes and lean back against the seat to collect my thoughts. “This is my problem. I’m aware I’m the one who reached out first and asked for help, but I shouldn’t have. I appreciate everything you want to do for me, but it’s not necessary. I’ve been searching for jobs, and—”
“You need to search for schools,” he argues in disapproval, “since you’re so dead set against going to Stanford now. Your focus needs to be getting into college and doing what you’ve always wanted. UCLA has a good Public Relations program and it isn’t far from any of the places we’ve seen. Half an hour, forty minutes tops depending on traffic.”
Gaping at him with parted lips, I slowly blink and consider the information. “Did you look that up?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
He hums.
“Well…” I don’t know what to say. He’s always done research for me, but this seems next level. “I’ll still need to work, Ky. College obviously isn’t cheap, even with loans. And if I take out a loan that’s more than it costs to attend just so I can afford books and food, then that means more debt later. It’s a lot to think about. Plus, there’s housing costs, and—”
“Don’t worry about housing.” His lips flatten for a moment. “Unless you’d want to live on campus.”
Truthfully, I always considered living in a dorm room when I was younger. The ones at Stanford that we saw on tour were nice and I imagined the built-in shelves lined with my textbooks, trinkets, and pictures of my family—of Mom, Kyler, Mia, and even Harry because he made Mom smile. I liked to pretend my future roommate would be my best friend and we’d go everywhere together and experience what it’s like to be college students. Parties. Drinking. Boys. The works.
I find myself smiling. While it took a long time adjusting to the move and my new life with the Bishops, I managed to hold onto a part of me that wanted simplicity. The houses we saw aren’t that, and the Stanford dream isn’t either. It’s too costly. “I don’t know. I used to want that, but things have changed. What I know for sure is that big, flashy, expensive things make me uncomfortable. They always have and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. My clothes are all from Walmart, what little items I own are all second hand, and I’m fine with that. I prefer it.”
He’s quiet for a moment, taking in my words. I appreciate that he does because not many people would give my thoughts the time of day. Finally, he breaks the silence with, “What happened to things you had when you lived with us? The clothes and whatnot.”
Glancing down at the hands folded in my lap, I peel them apart and touch the frayed hem of my shorts. “I grew out of most of them. The ones that still fit were a little too fancy for my life and I ended up selling them to get money for food and bills that Mom couldn’t pay.”
His hands grip the steering wheel harshly, but he doesn’t say anything. I won’t tell him about the one thing I feel horrible about to this day—the thing that got me the most money on eBay. I’m not sure he’d understand.
“We didn’t really leave with much else,” I tell him cautiously. “At least, I didn’t. I think she hocked some of the jewelry Harry gave her to get us a new apartment, but I don’t know about anything else.”
“The car?” he all but growls.
Closing my eyes, I let the A/C cool my suddenly tight, overheated body. Hand going to the necklace tucked under the collar of my shirt, slicked with sweat, I whisper, “That’s what she was driving when she…” My voice cracks under the pressure of the words, memories flooding of crime scene pictures plastered in the papers.