My Sweetest Escape. Chelsea M. Cameron

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My Sweetest Escape - Chelsea M. Cameron


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      “Are you settling in okay?” It was then that I noticed she had a plate of cookies. Oh, Jesus. What next? “Cookie? Taylor and I made them last night. They’re snickerdoodles. I know those are your favorite.” Yes, they were, but that wasn’t the point.

      “Thanks, but I’m fine.” I refolded the T-shirt and put it in with the others. Darah sighed and sat down on my bed, setting the plate of cookies next to her.

      “Look,” she started. Here we go again. “I know that everyone is going to be up in your face and scrutinizing you, but I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you. If you want to talk, if you don’t want to talk. Whatever. Even if you want to...I don’t know, eat ice cream and cry in the middle of the night. I’m here, okay?”

      She got up and rubbed my shoulder. What was it with people invading my personal space? It was really starting to piss me off. If Darah hadn’t been one of the sweetest people on the planet, I would have shrugged her hand off and told her to leave me alone. But she was the sweetest person ever, and she’d brought cookies, so I let her touch me as I gritted my teeth.

      “Okay, well, let us know if you need anything. Um, Hunter and Taylor are doing dinner tonight, and it’s going to be vegetarian, if you’re cool with that.” I nodded. Back in the day I’d been an on-and-off vegetarian. Back in the day when I’d been in the Climate Action Club and a card-carrying member of PETA. I might still have the thing in my wallet. God, I’d been wound so fucking tight back then. I’d also done a lot less cursing.

      “Come on up when you’re ready.” She patted me once more and shut the door behind her, leaving the plate of cookies. Did they expect me to polish those off and then have dinner? I shrugged, snagging one of the cookies. She must have put them in the microwave, because they were warm and crumbly. Oh, wow. I chewed slowly, savoring the spicy sweetness of the cookie.

      Footsteps and voices sounded upstairs. I heard laughter and chaos. The house above me was full of life and joy and people. And then there was me, hanging out in the basement. Lurking like a creeper. I shook my head and shoved the rest of the cookie into my mouth and went back to folding.

      * * *

      When the smell of whatever they were cooking upstairs became too much for me to withstand anymore, I ventured up the stairs.

      “There you are,” Renee said, nearly crashing into me as I opened the door. She’d obviously been coming down to drag me upstairs from my cave.

      “Here I am.” I gave her a tight smile as we walked into the kitchen/dining room. Everyone went absolutely silent as Renee and I walked in.

      “Awesome. I was totally going for that reaction. Well played, everyone,” I said as they all tried to resume their normal activities. It was weird seeing some of them in person, because I’d only seen them in pictures. They really were three-dimensional.

      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


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