Mutual Release (2 page)

“Yes, I told her I would, Lee, remember? I promised I’d look after him.”

“Jesus, Amanda, what in the hell are we supposed to do with…”

Evan narrowed his eyes, recalling Carol’s husband had left her four years ago, when she’d discovered the lump in her breast, high-tailing it down to the Bahamas with a secretary or some shit. And that she had a son.

His mother rose to her feet, never taking her eyes from Evan’s father. The hard-core determination he saw there was a description many people used when talking about his mother. He’d seen it enough himself, but more lately mixed in with a melancholy anger that could swiftly morph into fury directed at him, but more often at Olivia.

He quickly realized what was about to happen. His mother had a new project. Something she could focus on – saving the son of her dear friend. What he didn’t know was how significantly it would alter everything he knew about himself. Or about an evil that lurked in the souls of so many boys, disguising itself as strength until revealed for what it was.

* * * *

“Evan, honey, come down! We’re home!”

He groaned and stood, rubbing his eyes and wishing this whole mess would disappear. A new family member, son of his mother’s friend, the eighteen-year-old Damian Slate, was coming to live with them – indefinitely. His father’s efforts on the legal side had netted the kid an emergency visa to live in the U.S. with Evan’s parents as guardians. The boy’s father had signed off without even commenting. Evan supposed he should feel sorry for him, getting more or less tossed away by his own father on the heels of his mother’s death. Evan’s mother had forced at least that much empathy down his throat.

She’d been stuck in manic gear for the last few weeks organizing and decorating a guest room for their new family member. Insisting everyone pitch in and help out and feel honored they got to do such an important thing for a poor unfortunate young man. Evan knew the signs, though. And once she swung back the other way, dropping into the flip side of her personality as she always did, that kid, whoever he was, would be on his own. And Evan had no intention of picking up the slack when that happened. He had enough to do already and was determined to stay apart from this whole mercy mission.

Olivia appeared in the doorway of his room. Evan frowned at the sight of her. She was too thin. But he knew better than to say anything. She was ballet-obsessed and had been from the time she could walk. And that meant she had to be slender and fit; he understood that. But in the last few months, since they’d begun the last half of their senior year, she’d dropped so much weight it alarmed him. Her long brown hair was wet; her tall frame covered in baggy sweats and one of his soccer shirts.

“Why do you insist on wearing my stuff?” He tugged at the shirt from some random tournament his team had won years ago. “I was, like, ten years old when I got this – you’re nearly eighteen. Don’t you think it’s weird that it fits you? Jesus.”

She flopped onto his bed and tucked her feet underneath his blanket. Evan smiled at the sight of her, comfortable in his space. They’d been born with their umbilical cords in a tangle. Olivia’s oxygen supply had been limited for long enough doctors had been pessimistic about her chances after a traumatic birth. They’d spent almost nine months sharing a small space and a blood supply and were so close as babies and toddlers his mother liked to tell the story of his figuring out how to climb out of his crib and into Olivia’s. She’d given up trying to keep them separate when they slept until they were nearly six years old.

He still enjoyed her company, most days, but her newfound craving for extreme privacy and close-mouthed attitude about her desire to get into this stupid ballet school pissed him off – he dreaded the thought of her leaving, moving away from him, even though it would complete the cycle she’d begun by withdrawing emotionally for the last few months. She was part of him, always had been, and he wanted her to open up and really talk to him again. Her hazel eyes were non-committal, however – their usual state these days.

He leaned in the doorway of his room, listening to his mother bustle around downstairs, chattering like the class-A small-talker she was, trying to put the new kid at ease, as he observed Olivia. While they were fraternal twins, they had looked very much alike as babies and small children. When they hit puberty, her hair had darkened to a chestnut brown, while his remained just a shade darker than blond, and her recent weight loss had given her skin an unhealthy pallor. He worried about her, but Evan always worried – that was his burden, he figured. And one he didn’t really mind, since Olivia was so distant, ephemeral even, floating through life barely making a dent in the air, much less committing to emotions not directly related to her own needs. It must balance out the universe somehow, that he got to be the one who was more grounded.

“We got a new brother, eh?” She stared at him.

“So it would seem,” he muttered, willing her to say more to actually converse with him. But she just sighed and looked down at her battered toes.

“Better go meet him. She’s gonna yell for you again…”

“Evan!” his mother called up the steps, right on cue.

He smiled, kissed Olivia’s hair, and held out a hand. “Come with me,” he said.

“No, I’m good. She doesn’t want me, anyway.”

“Only because you won’t talk to her.” He stopped, ran a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”

He started out his bedroom door, looked back in time to see his sister’s eyes swimming with tears. Sighing, he kept going down the steps, then turned left into the living room where his mother sat holding a cup of tea and looking across the room, a hopeful smile on her face. He would never understand women. He just knew it. Not if his experience with the first two in his life was any indication. But just as his thoughts started to drift towards the pretty blond girl he was trying to work up the nerve to ask out, he was jarred back to the present by the sight of his new housemate – no, family member, if his mother’s insistence on this detail were to be heeded.

Damian Slate held his own cup of tea, the corners of his full lips turned up in what Evan would come to recognize as the smile Damian used when he was mocking everyone around him.

“Hello.” He held out a hand. “I’m Evan.”

The other boy rose, his movements graceful, smooth, as if practiced. He put on an approximation of a sincere grin and gripped Evan’s hand, hard. Evan tried not to gape at the kid’s amazing physical perfection. Steely gray eyes twinkled under a mop of thick blond hair flopping over his forehead. The span of his shoulders and six-foot, three-inch height gave Evan pause to square the fact that the guy looked like he could be twenty-five but was supposedly eighteen, only a few months older than Evan and Olivia. Damian could have stepped right out of the pages of some magazine ad for “preppy perfection,” clad in garb that was aggressively “American” between the light-blue jeans, glaring white Stan Smith sneakers, and yellow Izod Lacoste shirt.

“Hullo. I’m Damian, but you probably knew that already.” He shrugged and put the tea mug down before sticking his hands in his pockets.

Evan couldn’t place why, but the uneasiness that had been building in his chest blossomed into something he considered near panic. He glanced at his mother, whose rapt gaze had never wavered from her new ward’s face. He would swear on a stack of Bibles the words “Isn’t he dreamy?” were passing through her brain. He shivered, the chill catching him off guard. He narrowed his eyes and tried to sort through the mix of emotions gripping him, while Damian stood there, sucking up all the energy in the room.

“Thanks for all of this, Aunt Mandy. Truly.” The boy glanced over Evan’s shoulder, his face a mask of sincerity, tossing Evan’s mother a bone that set his teeth on edge. The manipulation skills Damian possessed and would display in coming years were impressive. She blushed, embarrassing Evan on her behalf. “I miss her so much,” the boy fake-whispered. Evan glared at the guy as he watched what he somehow knew were bullshit crocodile tears form in Damian’s eyes.

God almighty, Evan, the guy just lost his mother, and his father threw him away like yesterday’s trash. Stop being such a prick. Have some sympathy.

Damian dropped back into his seat and put his hand over his eyes. Evan was frozen in place, unsure of what to say or do.

“Here.” Evan stumbled back, out of Olivia’s way, when she pressed a tissue into the other boy’s hand. He hadn’t even heard her come in; he’d been so busy trying to process how much he did not like the new family member within five minutes of meeting him, in a very alarming, visceral way.

Damian looked up, his tear-streaked face still perfect, as if he were posing for a camera, having just been directed to “
hold that emotion, then look relieved. That’s right, exactly like that.
” The boy visibly gulped at the sight of Evan’s sister. But even more alarming to him was the way Olivia’s eyes lit up at the very attractive young man’s supposed breakdown. She pulled a leather ottoman right up next to him and took his hands between hers.

Evan had a quick and disturbing image pass across his vision – Olivia sobbing her heart out at the feet of this… this… person his parents had brought into their lives. He licked his lips, fidgeted, glared at his mother and willed her to step between his sister and this boy. Wondering if he were the only one on the planet who instantly mistrusted Damian Slate, or the only one in the room who saw the obvious predatory shift in Damian’s gaze when he looked at Olivia.

His heart pounded nearly deafening him. He took another step back, and watched Olivia drop right into the steely gray depths of Damian’s stare. His mother gazed at them, a goofy, hypnotized look on her face. He cleared his throat, hoping to break up the moment, and wishing he could order Damian back to England and far away from them all.

Chapter Two

Evan glanced up from his calculus book, irritated by the interruption. He was drowning in the damn subject but was determined to make it through with a decent grade. There was only a month left before seniors were dismissed from high school forever, and all that stood between Evan and a decent scholarship to Michigan State was to not fuck up this one class.

Damian stood leaning in the doorway, his casual posture making Evan’s aggravation ramp up about a thousand fold. He had settled into his life as the token cute guy with the English accent amongst the seniors with ease – too much ease, as far as Evan was concerned. He’d even already gone out with the hottest girl in the school, and everyone knew what she did for all her boyfriends. Evan sighed, ran a hand through his still-wet hair, and tried not to be rude.

“What’s up?” He watched the other boy saunter into his room and make himself comfortable on Evan’s bed. “Uh, I’m kind of busy, so…”

“I’m bored,” Damian declared. “Let’s get the hell out of here, what d’ you say, mate?”

“Go away, Damian,” Evan muttered, uncomfortable as always in the other boy’s close presence. “I’ve gotta study, and I have two soccer games this weekend.”

“I know, I know.” He laid back on Evan’s pillow and tossed a soccer ball into the air over and over again. Evan returned to his homework, content to ignore the guy until he left. “But seriously, let’s get out of here.” The ball hit Evan’s hand making him jump and curse.

“And where do you propose we go?” he asked, not caring. He did not want to be Damian’s friend, not on any level. There was enough stress in his life as it was. He worried about his sister’s mental health, now that the ballet school auditions were only two weeks away. The girl he’d finally taken out on a couple of real dates, and groped rather successfully on her couch after the second one, was making him a walking hard-on, and his soccer team was about to play for the state cup finals. He sighed and glared at the tall blond guy who’d invaded his life and manipulated his parents into thinking he was a sweet, innocent, well-meaning human being. Evan did not like anything about him, especially the way he’d stare at Olivia at the dinner table.

“C’mon, just trust me.” He jumped up and sauntered out of the room, as if assuming Evan would follow him. Which he did, to his own chagrin. Damian stopped in Olivia’s doorway. “Let’s go, love. I talked him into it.”

Evan frowned at the thin girl as she rushed out, eyes alight in a way he’d not seen in years as she followed the compelling boy-man down the stairs. He wanted to stop, to call her back upstairs, and to tell Damian to take his field trip or whatever the fuck it was and shove it up his British ass. But he didn’t. And would regret it for the rest of his life.

* * * *

“So,” Damian said, passing him a corner of the brownie, which he claimed contained “mind-blowing weed.” “This girl you’ve been seeing. She put out?”

Evan chewed the foul-tasting morsel. “None of your business.”

“I hear she does for every other guy.” Damian leaned back on the hood of Evan’s beater Volvo as they watched the sun go down on a late spring evening.

“Just shut up, will ya?” He grabbed another bite, embarrassed to admit he’d barely made it to second base with the girl who claimed to be as inexperienced as he was.