The BlackBurne Legacy (The Bloodlines Legacy Series Book 1) (4 page)

Beth Anne chuckles at my reaction. “Not used to home-style portions?”

“Who eats this much food?”

“The folks around here,” Beth Anne says, a grin sliding across her face. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Who was that guy who just left?” Micah watches the boy climb into a dark SUV.

“Luka.” She looks out the window, a frown on her face too. “He’s not much of a talker. All I could get out of him was his name and that he’s a foreign exchange student from Romania.”

They’re both acting like it’s some kind of crime to be an exchange student. Beyond weird.

“Does Aiden know?” Micah asks. “I texted him, but he’s not responding.”

“Yeah, I think Burt told him last night.”

What is going on? Why would someone need to be informed about a new person in town?

“Well, I’ll leave you two to eat. Honey doll, let me know if you need a box to take some of that with you.”

“No way I’m eating all this. My brother will get the leftovers.”

“Your brother?” they both ask.

“Jason Reed,” I say slowly. What is wrong with these people? They get all nervous and jumpy at new people.

“Michelle’s Jason?” Beth Anne asks, surprised.

“Ah, the ex-future Mrs. Reed.” I nod.

A laugh bursts out of Micah. “What?”

“That’s what I called her last night when I met her,” I explain. “She got all territorial.”

“She can be that,” Beth Anne agrees. “Y’all holler if you need anything.”

Micah digs into one of the biggest steaks I’ve ever seen. It’s rare too. My nose scrunches. I hate to eat anything rare.

Micah’s eyes twinkle with mirth as he watches my reaction. “It’s not as gross as you think.” He stabs the piece he just cut and holds it up. “Want to try a bite?”

“No, thank you.” Uh-uh. No way am I eating bloody meat. Instead, I jam a forkful of eggs in my mouth. They taste delicious. If nothing else, the cooks here know how to make good food. I could eat here every day and die happy.

The door bursts open, and I look up to see my brother standing there like a crazy person. He’s wearing the same clothes he slept in—shorts and a t-shirt. It doesn’t look like he even brushed his hair. Flip flops complete his outfit. When his eyes light on me, relief floods his face and he all but stomps over to my table.

“Why didn’t you wake me up before you took off?” he demands, his eyes flaring with the same strange color mine does sometimes. “Do you know how freaked out I was when I woke up and you were gone?”

“I left you a note, Jase.” I keep my voice calm.

“Scoot.” He slides in next to me when I move over. “I didn’t see a note. Who’s this?”

Micah tries to keep the laughter off of his face. “Micah. I met your sister on the sidewalk outside the diner.”

Jason rubs his bloodshot eyes. He must have jumped up and run. I can only imagine all the terrified thoughts that went through his head when he woke up and I was gone. I’d left a note to keep him from worrying. I bet he just checked my room, saw me gone, and panicked.

“Here, eat these.” I push my steaming plate of pancakes at him.

“Morning, sunshine.” Beth Anne is back at our table.

Jason shoots her a look of irritation. “I’m not in the mood, Beth Anne.”

“What can I get you, sugar?”

“Coffee,” he mumbles. “The largest cup of coffee you can find.”

I munch on a strip of bacon while Beth Anne goes to fetch the coffee pot. Surprisingly, the bacon isn’t hard. It’s soft, but not
too
soft. Just the way I love it.

“Alex.” I look over to see Jason giving me his best “Dad” expression, and I cringe. “Wake me up next time you decide to go out before the crack of dawn.”

“I did leave a note,” I defend myself.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Just wake me up, okay?”

“Sure,” I agree, my eyes on the boy across from me.

Micah looks curious, but refrains from saying anything. His phone chirps and he looks down, reading the message and then typing a quick reply. “I have to head out. Gramps needs me to come help him. It was nice to meet you both.”

“You too,” I say. He pulls out his wallet and tosses a few bills on the table. He probably has the same thing every morning and knows the price by heart.

“See you around, Alex.” He gives me another wink before heading out.

“My, my, aren’t you a busy girl?” Jason teases, and I shove him.

“No, it’s not like that,” I tell him. Oddly, it’s
not
like that. I mean, Micah is cute and all, but I’m not crushing on him. He’s familiar, like a good friend. “He was just easy to talk to.”

“Uh-huh.” Jason digs into my breakfast.

“I really am sorry you got all freaked, Jase. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s a new town, Al.” He turns serious eyes on me. “We don’t know the area. You need to be careful.”

“Listen to the boy.”

We both turn to see an old man leaning on his cane about a foot away. He’s wearing a plaid shirt and workman’s pants. His white hair is longish, and he has a scar over his right eye, giving him a sinister expression without meaning to.

“Where do I know you two from?” he grumbles, mostly to himself.

“I don’t think you do.” Jason gives the elderly man his full attention. “We just moved here.”

“You, girl, you look familiar. What’s your name?”

“Alex Reed.”

“Reed…” He frowns, thinking. “Aye, now I remember. You’re Alesha’s young’uns.”

My brother and I both flinch at the sound of our mother’s name. Neither of us speak it if we don’t have to.

“You know our mother?” I ask. How could he know her?

“Aye.” The old man nods. “Knew you looked familiar.”

“How do you know her?” Jason demands.

“I knew her from when she lived here with y’all.”

Jason and I share a look. What is he talking about? We’ve never lived here.

“Them’s Alisha’s young’uns?” Another scrawny old man joins him. “Well, I’ll be.”

“I think it’s time to leave.” Jason signals for Beth Anne to bring the bill.

“I’m Hooter,” the skinny one introduces himself, “and this here old fart is Rush.”

“You two get on outta here,” Beth Anne scolds. “Curtis finds you bothering the customers again, he’ll not let you play your checkers outside later.”

They grumble, but amble outside. Beth Anne gives us an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind those two. They mean well.”

“They weren’t bothering us,” Jason assures her, pulling out his wallet. He lays some bills down on the table. “Come on, Sis. I think we need to go have a talk with Dad.”

Nodding, I follow Jason out to his car, my mind whirling with questions. Had we lived here before, and why hadn’t Daddy told us?

Chapter Four

“Dad!”

Jason’s bellow echoes throughout the house. I wince at the angry tone. While I’m curious about us having lived here before, Jason is plain old mad. It was the strangest, most fascinating thing to watch. His mood changed rapidly in the car on the way over here. He’d gone from curious to upset to something akin to full-on rage in less than five minutes.

Emma expressed her concern over his rapid mood changes when she found out I was going to live with him. After seeing it firsthand, she might have reason to be concerned. Something is definitely off with him.

Emma comes running down the stairs in her pajamas and slippers, looking scared. “What is it? What’s wrong? Did something happen with Alex?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “She’s perfectly fine. See for yourself.”

Emma’s eyes sweep over me, and relief floods her face. I want to kick Jason for making her worry for no reason. She’d been through as much as I had over the years. It might be my illness, but my entire family suffers because of it.

“Explain to me, then, Jason Michael Reed, why you are screaming at the top of your lungs in my house at
eight in the morning
and scaring me to death?”

She has that mom look leveled at him that always made us feel ashamed of our behavior when we were little. Jason has the good grace to blush.

“I’m sorry, Mama Emma,” he says softly. “I’m just mad. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Her lips forming into a tight line, Emma turns and walks to the kitchen, Jason on her heels. I can feel the anger in him begin to dissipate. I still have no idea why or even how he got so angry so quickly. It’s just bizarre.

“Where’s Dad?” I grab a glass of orange juice before sitting down.

“He went in to work early this morning.” Emma pours herself a cup of coffee and takes a seat at the kitchen island. “What has you so upset?”

“We were at the diner and some old guy said he recognized us. He said we’d lived here before.” Emma’s eyes widen as she listens.

“I thought you both knew,” she murmurs. “Your parents lived here when you were little. Alesha loved this place. They only moved because John took a job in Raleigh that paid three times what he made here.”

“So that’s why he suggested it.” Jason pours himself a cup of coffee and I grimace. Straight black coffee is nasty.

“Speaking of your mother…” Emma trails off and leaves the room.

Jason and I exchange curious looks. We never talk about our mother. Emma respects that. Usually.

She comes back carrying a box. “I forgot about these until I found them tucked away in the attic of the old house. Your mother asked each of you receive them on your eighteenth birthday. John wasn’t too keen on giving them to you, but I think you should have them. He threw a fit when I wouldn’t throw them out.”

“Throw them out?” I ask. “Why would he want you to throw them out?”

Emma sighs unhappily. “He has his reasons, children. Just trust in that.”

I have to wonder what else he threw out. Maybe she didn’t just write us out of her life. What if she did write to us? Sent us things and Daddy just never gave them to us. I hate the spark of hope that springs to life. I do my best to stomp it out, but it lingers like a foul taste in my mouth.

Jason takes the box from her and pulls out a heavy, black leather bound book that has leather ties to close it. His name is etched onto the cover. It’s not a journal. I mean, the thing is bigger than any book I’ve ever seen. Jason reaches in and plucks out an identical one that has my name on it.

“What are they?” I take mine and open it. Blank white pages stare back at me.

“Journals, maybe?” Emma shrugs. “Alesha sent them a few years back.”

“Wait. What?” Jason’s eyes zero in on Emma, narrowing. “She sent this for our birthdays, but she couldn’t bother to call and say hello?”

Emma turns around and busies herself getting out bowls for cereal. “Jase, at least she cared enough to send you a gift.” Is that guilt I hear in her voice?

“One gift out of how many missed birthdays?” The contempt in his voice speaks volumes. You don’t abandon your kids and expect them to be all happy and feel special you remembered
one
birthday. It’s despicable. That, I agree with, but what if we’re wrong about her?

“I’m sorry, sweethearts.” Emma’s shoulders slump, and Jason immediately goes over and gives her a hug.

“It’s not your fault,” he says. “You are a great mother, Emma. We couldn’t have asked for better.”

She gives him a lopsided smile and kisses his cheek. “I love you too, baby boy.”

I look wistfully at them before staring at the book in front of me. Jason and Emma are close. She was with him every day. I love Emma, and I know she loves me, but I will never have the same relationship with her Jason does. He grew up here with her and Dad. I didn’t. She did the best she could do for me, but we’ll never have what she shares with my brother. Emma is his mother, but she’s my step-mother.

And maybe that’s why I can’t crush that tiny seed of hope inside. I want what Jason and Emma have. I had that with my mother before she left. I’m jealous of their relationship. It’s not Jason or Emma’s fault. It just is what it is and I need to stop trying to make my mother into someone redeemable just because I want that relationship back.

“Are you two hungry?” I looked up at Emma’s question, watching her grab cereal out of a cabinet.

“No, we ate at the diner this morning.”

“More like Jason ate my food instead of ordering his own.”

“That sounds like our boy, here.” Emma pats his shoulder. “Do you want me to make you something, Alex?”

“No, I’m good.” My fingers stroke the soft leather of the book. “Emma, why do you think Dad didn’t tell us we lived here before? Do you know how old we were?”

I can’t shake this weird feeling I have that it’s important we know more about our time here.

“I’m not sure, sweetie.” She frowns, sipping on her coffee. “I do know your parents met in Boston where they both attended college. They moved here after graduation, and the two of you were born here. If I remember correctly, John said they moved to Raleigh when you were four, Jason. That’s really all he told me.”

Maybe Dad had a “back to your roots” moment when he suggested coming to Jacob’s Fork. It’s strange that he wouldn’t have told us we lived here, though. He can’t have expected we wouldn’t find out. I have this hinky feeling I can’t shake. Dad and I are gonna have a long talk about that and why he didn’t want us to have our mother’s gifts. I think the two are related.

“Are you wearing that when we go shopping?” Emma eyeballs Jason’s clothes.

“I look awesome.”

Emma’s expression of horror has me choking on laughter. She’s never gone anywhere with a hair out of place. Taking Jason shopping in his sleepwear is not something she’s prepared to do.

“Awesome you may be, Jason Reed, but you are not driving me around dressed like that.” She wags her finger at us. “Get yourselves home and put on something decent. I should be ready to go in about an hour.”

She shoos us out, and we grab our journals on the way. The thick leather feels warm against my bare skin, and for just a second, I swear it felt like it breathed against my chest, where I have it clutched. Yanking it away, I stare at it, confused. Jason shoots me a curious glance while he lays his in the back seat. He doesn’t toss it, but carefully puts it down.

Despite our feelings about our mother, neither of us is willing to mistreat the only thing we’ve gotten from her in over twelve years. We may hate her, but we love her too. We just don’t talk about it, and a gift from her is precious. We don’t say it out loud, but we accept it.

“I think I’ll give Emma a heart attack and wear this shopping.” Jason puts the car in reverse and backs out.

“You have a death wish, don’t you?”

He chuckles. “Got to keep her on her toes.”

“She’ll beat you bloody,” I tell him, my fingers caressing the leather of the book. “Jase?”

“Yeah?”

Do I ask him? I don’t want him thinking I’m slipping back into my brand of crazy. “These books…did you…did you feel anything weird when you touched yours?”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno.” My eyes rest on my name emblazoned across the book. “It felt a little like it…breathed?”

“That’s the leather. It expands in different temperatures. I bet it’s been in storage for so long, the leather just reacted to the cooler temperature of the AC.”

“But you
did
feel something?” I press.

“Yeah, but like I said, it’s just a chemical reaction. A book doesn’t breathe.”

“I know that,” I murmur. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Don’t sweat it, Alex. It’s just a book.”

I turn my attention back to the scenery and let my fingers knead the soft leather. Jason’s right. It’s just a book.

***

Shopping is exhausting. I mean not just tiring, but feet aching, head splitting, I need a massage to recover exhausting. Especially with Tornado Emma pulling up the rear. Oh my God…that woman can shop. She dragged us from one furniture shop to another until she was satisfied we had everything we’d need to live comfortably.

After that, Jason begged to be fed, and we ate at Subway, Emma declaring he needed to learn to eat healthy. He’d grumbled something about a double bacon cheeseburger. He’d looked so petulant and put out, I’m still grinning.

We drove to Beckley for the good stores. Jacob’s Fork is equipped with the essentials and a few tourist shops, but if you want something like Kohl’s or Best Buy, you drive two hours to Beckley. The mall yielded a new wardrobe for me and a winter coat for Jason. I am also the proud new owner of an iPhone, an Apple MacBook Pro, and a new iPad. Emma wanted everything to sync up properly. It was free, too. Emma wouldn’t let me pay for a thing.

She also decided I needed a haircut, much to my horror. I spent a half an hour trying to explain why I didn’t want a haircut, but instead, I find myself staring at my reflection in the stylist’s big mirror, his own expression comforting.

I take deep, steadying breaths. In and out. In and out.

Change is not something I do well with.

“I don’t know about this.” I eye the scissors in the stylist’s hands with trepidation, my apprehension rising.

“Trust me.”

“But to cut my hair that short?”

“I promise, it will be perfect,” Stefan, the stylist, tries to soothe me. “Your hair will be cut to here, just below your shoulders, and allow all that natural curl to come out of hiding. All of this hair, it hides your face. We want everyone to be able to see you.”

No, we don’t
, the panic inside screams.

I force my hands to unclench from around the chair arms. My hair is my shield. Whenever I needed to hide, down came the ponytail and my hair swung forward to keep prying eyes away. I’ve hidden behind it for years, my own personal security blanket. To take it away is like cutting off an arm. This is going to hurt.

“Just do it.” I grimace and keep my eyes firmly shut, cringing with each snip of the scissors.

Change. Change is good. At least that’s what I tell myself as I drag myself kicking and screaming into it.

Major brownie points to me.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, listening to the scissors become the death knell to my only hiding mechanism. Nerves eat away at me and I struggle to sit still. What will it look like? What will
I
look like? How had I let Emma put me in this situation?

A laugh echoes in my head and I go perfectly still. That wasn’t me. I listen, but nothing. Maybe my stress level is too high and I’m imagining things? I’ve never heard voices before, though. This is new and very, very disturbing. Dad will lock me up for sure if he gets wind of this.

“There, all done,” Stefan announces, startling me. “Jill is going to do your makeup, and then you can see yourself.”

Jill is a very pretty girl in her twenties. She smiles, but it’s a bored smile. Her cart rolls over with her and she starts rummaging through colors. I eyeball the massive makeup kit with despair. I have no clue about makeup or even how to apply it. My tortured expression catches her attention.

“It doesn’t bite.” Laughter bubbles in her voice.

“It might as well,” I mutter, feeling overwhelmed.

“Don’t worry.” For the first time since she came in, a real smile flits across her face. “I’ll show you how to put all this on. Every girl needs to know how to enhance her natural beauty.”

True to her word, for the next hour she explains what everything is, why some things work with my fair skin and why others won’t. She patiently shows me how to apply each and every piece of makeup she has picked out for me, letting me do it until she’s satisfied I have the hang of it. Noxzema cleans my face, and then she sets to work on it herself. The whole time I’m thinking to myself, when did being an adult become so complicated, and why is being a woman even more complicated? Do girls really spend hours on makeup and hair? Seems a little pointless, but if it’s normal, then I’ll learn.