Chelsea Cameron - My Sweetest Escape

Hunter was the first to come over and offer me his hand. I got to give him the once-over and I understood what Renee had said about not allowing him near anything flammable because he would set it on fire with his hotness. Yeah, he had the whole tatted-up, muscled thing going on. Plus his smile was genuine when he said he’d been looking forward to meeting me. Taylor was next, but she didn’t touch me. Thank God. She was also just as freaking adorable as the pictures I’d seen her in. It was easy to see why Renee and Darah had asked her to move in with them.

“I hope this is okay. I wasn’t sure what you’d like. We were planning on doing something bigger, but Renee... Never mind,” Taylor said, after getting the evil eye from Renee. I didn’t need to be able to see her giving it to know that was what she was doing. I’d been on the receiving end of that look more times than I could count. Paul stood next to Renee and gave me a comforting smile.

Last was a guy who looked like he missed his calling as a professional football player. Or wrestler. Or attractive bouncer. I guess sexy ran in the family of Hunter and Mase.

“Little Ne,” he said, giving me a handshake that nearly crushed all of my fingers. “It’s cool if we call you that, right? We’ll probably come up with a better nickname at some point. Unless you hate nicknames as much as your sister seems to.” He looked a little sheepish, which was kind of funny, given how strong he looked.

“Whatever,” I said, flexing my hand to get the feeling back into it. “I’m neutral in nicknames.” I couldn’t count how many I’d had in my life. Most of them I’d ignored, including when my sister Cari spent an entire summer calling me “Stinky Butt.” To be fair, she was three, and “Joscelyn” was a mouthful to say.

“Thanks for the cookies,” I said to Darah, who was absentmindedly stroking Mase’s arm. “They were really good.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping you’d like them,” Taylor said, stirring something in one of the steaming pots on the stove. “This is about ready, so why don’t you go sit down?”

“Is there, um, anything I can do to help?” Granted, I had been forced here, but they didn’t have to take me in. They could have said no.

“Don’t worry, sis. You’ll be on the chore chart soon enough,” Renee said, steering me toward the dining room table. Someone had already set out the plates, and there was a place set for me, with a card sitting on the plate, and yes, it was handmade.

“Taylor and Darah made that, so you have to gush about it even if you hate it,” Renee hissed as I opened it. How could I hate it? Someone had made some really cool designs with paint on the front that looked like fireworks, and there were letters cut from magazines spelling out the words WELCOME TO YELLOWFIELD HOUSE.

“Yellowfield House?” I said.

Renee rolled her eyes and sat down next to me, Paul on her other side. I caught him taking her hand under the table and giving it a squeeze.

“It was Taylor’s idea. She wanted it to be like in one of those British novels, where the house has a name. It was, like, the only way she’d agree to let us all live here. It was her one stipulation,” Renee said with a shrug.

“She wanted to make a sign and everything, but the rest of us vetoed it,” Paul said. “It was really cute, actually. She was so excited. And then we shot her down.”

“Um, weird,” I said.

“Shh,” Renee said as everyone else carried dishes and pans and other dinner paraphernalia. The second everyone sat down it was a chaos of passing plates and bumping elbows and trying to get everyone what they needed. Taylor had made spaghetti with an olive oil sauce with tons of vegetables and garlic bread and a salad. It was crazy delicious, and even though I’d consumed several of the cookies, I put away more than my share of dinner. It beat the hell out of the cafeteria food, or eating ramen for the millionth time.

Everyone laughed and talked about their day, and for the first time, I wasn’t the center of attention. It was really...nice. They were all just so damn happy and smiley and in love. It was enough to make me sick, but instead it somehow had the opposite effect. I’d really wanted to hate it here. It would have been more appropriate for me to hate it.

“Um, I still have some...stuff to unpack,” I said, getting up as soon as I could. I needed to get back to the loneliness of the basement. All the happy was screwing with my head. Renee shot me a look, but nodded.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hang out up here? You haven’t even seen the rest of the house yet,” Darah said, giving me a hopeful smile. I couldn’t really get out of that.

“Yeah, sure.” She led me upstairs, showing me her room, which was immaculate, as if they were selling the house and had a decorator come in to make it look good for prospective buyers. Renee refused to let us see her room, and Taylor only gave me a quick glance at her and Hunter’s suite on the top floor.

“Just ignore the clothes on the floor. I know I do.” Hunter and Taylor had tagged along for our little tour. It was technically his house, after all.

“Thanks. For...for letting me come here.” For letting my parents force me on you. I’m sure you had lots of choice in the matter.

“You’re welcome. Any member of Renee’s family is part of ours,” he said, putting an arm around Taylor. Did they have to do that all the time? “I hope everything...works out. I know what it’s like to go through a rough time.” Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’d heard all about Hunter’s and Taylor’s tragic pasts and subsequent “getting their shit together” moments. They were probably planning my intervention right now. Luring me into a false sense of security before springing it on me.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said as he closed their door and we went back downstairs.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us for some music?” Darah said as she and Mase canoodled on the couch. What was this, the Partridge family? Seriously, these people were a Cleaver short of a heartwarming fifties family show. “Hunter’s a really good guitar player.”

“I’m good. I still have...stuff to do.”

“And things?” Renee said, giving me a look. Yeah, stuff and things, Renee.

“Am I not allowed to do stuff and things now? Was that the fifth rule on your list?” I snapped, realizing only after I’d said it that everyone could hear me.

“Whatever,” I said, heading for the basement. “I’m going to bed.” It was only eight, but I couldn’t take being around them anymore. They were just so damn happy. It was killing me. I needed to go back to the basement of doom and comfort myself with more cookies and heart-wrenching music.

“Good night,” they all chimed almost in unison. Sick, this was sick. Maybe there was something in the walls that seeped into their pores when they were sleeping. Or maybe it was the water?

I shook my head and walked back down to what I was quickly deciding was my cave. My basement of solitude.

My room reeked of the delicious cookies, and even though I was stuffed from dinner, I ate two more before heading to the shower. The water pressure was significantly better than the dorm, and I took my time, savoring the sensation on the back of my neck. All the showers in the world couldn’t wash away the darkness in my life, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying it.

The charm bracelet caught in my hair as I was brushing it and I spent a good five minutes and several curse words getting it undone.

We’re friends, right? And friends give each other gifts. I know how much you love elephants, so...here, he’d said when he’d presented me with the box. I remembered opening it and falling in love with it. Such a simple, sweet gesture. He’d helped me put it on, and I’d worn it every day since. Especially after...