She sighs and nods. “That’s my dad.”
Okay, so maybe this is a prank?
“Your mom?” I ask, because what if I missed something. She could be a supermodel, a famous actress, or a pop singer.
“Stepmom,” she corrects me. “She isn’t famous, but she’s the best mother ever.”
“Is The Coop real?”
“Are they sending you there?” She pouts.
I nod in response. She doesn’t sound thrilled. Maybe it’s some scary place that’s more like a detention center.
“I thought you were going to be my big brother. It’d be fun to have someone almost my age around this house,” she says and then looks at the tiny reading corner. “Please, don’t get me wrong. I love my little brother and baby sister, but they are too young to take to parties, concerts, or the mall. Our oldest sister is in college. I don’t see her often.”
“That explains the books. Are you the owner of the ocean room?” I glance from my ice cream to her. “Were you trying to find Nemo?
She laughs. “Nope, but Tess will be happy to know that you think her room looks like a representation of the Pacific Ocean. The books aren’t mine either. I’m not that small.”
I grin. “They’re your size.”
“Ha ha. Have you thought about seeking a career in comedy?” She glares at me then smiles. “If music isn’t your thing, you can always go to the performance school. I think Nathan Fielder is teaching this year.”
“Please, like I’m going to believe you that there’s a performance school or that some famous comedian will be teaching a class.”
She shakes her head. “Should I remind you that one of MJ’s fathers is Gabe Colt?”
I gape at her. He used to be a big action movie star. Mom had a crush on him.
“I want to believe you, but everything sounds…”
“Like you’re dreaming?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “I feel like this is a reality show, and someone is going to pop out of a wall like the Kool-Aid man and say, ‘This is payback for breaking into the flower shop. Now, back to your hole.’”
She bursts into laughter.
Well, isn’t she something? I’m freaking out, and she’s having a good laugh at my expense.
“Are you finished?” I cross my arms, glaring at her.
She takes a deep breath. “Sorry, it was funny. I was trying to imagine the…never mind. So nope, the Kool-Aid man isn’t popping out or,” she whispers, “bursting through the wall.”
I hate when people correct me when I don’t speak properly. There are times when I forget words. Any other day I’d be laughing with her but not today. “Are you making fun of me?”
She raises her hands. “I swear I’m not trying to, but I imagined Dad dressed as the Kool-Aid man.”
I stare at her for several seconds. A moment later, she’s looking at me with concern. “I didn’t mean to make fun of you. If anything, I want to help you,” she says with a soft voice. “When I said that I was hoping to have a big brother, I wasn’t kidding.”
The sincerity in her eyes eases the tightness in my chest. I’m not sure about a sister, but I could use a friend if we limit our activities to everything but the mall.
“So…you want me to take you to the mall?”
“That was a joke. I don’t enjoy shopping,” she says, sitting on one of the bean bags. “Why don’t you take a seat, Zeke? You can tell me all about yourself while I tell you what I know about The Coop.”
“The place where they store chickens?” I joke, finally taking a seat and a spoonful of ice cream.
“It’s not like that,” she mumbles.
“How do you know?” I grab one of the chocolate chip cookies and take a bite.
“I’ve been there a few times. My sister and I volunteered last summer.”
“How old is your sister?”
She sets the bowl on the floor, pulls out her phone, and after swiping her finger across the screen a few times, she hands it to me.
There’s an older version of her, taller with the same light brown eyes as Hannah. Her hair is almost strawberry blonde. Hannah’s is brown like mine. Her sister carries a baby.
“The little one is our sister Aubrey, and the other one is Tess,” she explains. “She goes to school in San Diego. We have a little brother, Kieran.”
“It must be cool to have brothers and sisters,” I state.
“Yes, and I love them so much,” she states. “Where is your family?”
I tell her about my parents. Just like Sadie, she reaches for my arm and squeezes it gently. “I’m sorry.”
“Since then, I’ve been like one of those tumbleweeds in the middle of the desert. No one claims me. I just drift away, moving from one house to the next,” I continue.
I have never told anyone how I feel, nor have I ever cried because I’m tired of living my life. The only reason why I keep going is because I want to make my mom proud.
“Even if you don’t live here, we’re going to be best friends—like brother and sister,” she promises.
Chapter Six
Zeke
This is not a dream—or a reality show.
It’s my life.
Since my birthday is close to Thanksgiving Day, the Hades family insists that I stay during the holiday season. They want me to spend the holidays with them. In the meantime, Kade’s lawyer is working on my emancipation. My case is straightforward.
I have a place to live and money to support myself. And no, we’re not talking about the salary I receive at the flower shop.
While Tristan was pulling my birth certificate, medical, and school records, he found out that my parents left me a trust along with all their money. I own properties in several places. In other words, I’m wealthy.
The fucking irony. For eleven years, I lived with people who never treated me well. I only wore second-hand clothes. They never fed me well. And for the last few months, I ate what I found in trash cans. But surprise, I’m a billionaire.
Well, that’s not entirely true because I can’t touch the money. So, I’m still poor. I own houses that I can’t live in until I finish a master’s degree or a law degree—and am practicing or working within my field. My mom wasn’t kidding about wanting me to be someone. She’s forcing me from beyond the grave.
The first week of January, I finally move into The Coop. When we enter the place, I’m speechless. This is a house on top of a building.
“Why here?” I ask after studying the two-story apartment. “Is it because I have money? I live in the ivory tower while everyone else stays in cool rooms and gets to know each other.”
Tristan rolls his eyes. “Before you get excited, you’re going to be sharing the apartment,” he states, shutting the main door. “If you break anything, you pay for it. You and your roommate are in charge of paying the utilities.”
“I thought you were providing me housing,” I protest.
“Yes, but you also need to learn that water, power, and cable aren’t free,” he explains to me as we walk toward the fancy kitchen. Why do I need a double oven? I’ll be ordering takeout daily.