High Groves Middle School.
My eyes narrow at the unassuming brick building as the car passes it. I know, logically, that I’ll now be attending the high school across town, but I can’t stop the stab of hate and anger that bombards me.
“Your nana is expecting you,” Charles says conversationally. “She set up a room for you in the attic.”
“She didn’t have to do that,” I murmur awkwardly, anxiously chewing on my lower lip. I haven’t seen Nana in years, and I can’t deny the flicker of self-consciousness that reverberates through me.
We pull up in front of wrought iron gates, and Charles steps out of the car to manually open them. I attempt to peer around the boughs of trees, desperate to catch a glimpse of my childhood home.
It’s only when Charles enters the car once more and begins to drive up the curving driveway, do I see the gothic mansion nestled snugly in the middle of a secluded forest.
It’s four stories high with numerous gables and turrets. Two gargoyles perch on the roof, their stone faces sending pinpricks of fear racing down my spine. The brown paint on the walls is faded in some spots, though I can’t decide if it’s from inconsistent weather or vandalism. Leaves cover the front steps and porch, already turning hues of orange and brown.
My memories of this place depict it as being grand and elegant, plucked straight out of a fairytale. Was I really that blind to the desolate home towering before me?
“Can I help you with your bags?” Charles asks, already hurrying around the car to open my door for me. His face is weathered by age, deep lines down both his cheeks and around his eyes. When he walks, his back bunches over, almost as if there’s a weight pressing down on the middle of his spine.
“I got it,” I say immediately. “Thank you, Charles.” He smiles, showcasing his crooked teeth, and I feel my own lips curve upwards instinctively. Charles has quickly become a fixture in my life. It’s going to be hell saying goodbye to him.
I grab my single duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder. The rest of my belongings had been sent over earlier.
The pathway leading up to the house is bogged down with weeds, and the air smells like grass and garbage.
Still, there’s a skip to my step that hadn’t been there prior as I rap my knuckles against the front door. Charles steps up beside me and offers me a reassuring smile. I relish in the wrinkled curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes—it makes me feel braver, stronger, capable of doing what I’d set out to do in the first place.
Taking another deep, ragged breath, I pound on the door a second time. After a moment of prolonged silence, I hear the patter of footsteps and the jangle of bracelets.
“Peony!” a raspy voice says, even before the door is fully opened. “I wasn’t expecting you for at least a couple more hours.”
“Mom decided to send me off earlier,” I reply dryly. Correction: she had practically thrown me out of the house.
The door opens the rest of the way, and I get my first good look at Nana—otherwise known as Cardinal Simone. Her naturally gray hair has been dyed a bright violet, the curls cascading to the middle of her back. Despite her age, she has no wrinkles on her face. The only indication that she’s above forty is the wisdom emanating from her muddy brown eyes. She wears a silky floral robe over a translucent nightgown, and I quickly look away before I can see something I’ll never be able to unsee.
“Nana…” I murmur just as footsteps resonate from behind her. A moment later, three handsome young men—triplets, more than likely—begin pawing at my grandmother. One of them kisses her neck while the other cups her breasts. The final one tilts her chin to the side to kiss her lips. All of them are heavily muscular with chestnut brown hair and emerald green eyes. They look to be in their mid-twenties, younger than Nana by over forty years.
And they’re also butt ass naked.
“Not now, my pets,” Nana coos, slapping one of them on the ass. “I have my granddaughter over to visit me.”
“For fuck’s sake…” I curse, diverting my attention towards a hanging plant. Charles’s face is beet red as he focuses on his feet.
“I’ll just be...um...going...Miss Peony,” he stutters, finally raising his head to meet my gaze. There’s a question emitting in his eyes, one he doesn’t dare say out loud.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him softly, pulling him into a tight embrace. Fuck, I’m going to miss the old man. A lot. I might actually cry—which is an oddity by itself, considering the fact I haven’t cried since middle school.
“Call me if you need anything,” he whispers in my ear. “Anything at all. Someone to talk to. Someone to listen to you. Even just someone to raise your spirits.”
“I will,” I promise, rubbing his back.
With great reluctance, I force myself to step away from the man who has been more like a father to me than my own has. I’m stunned to see tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away before I can comment.
“I need to go back to your mother,” he announces, already turning back towards the sleek car still idling in the driveway. “Call me when you settle in.”
“Will do.” I lift my hand in a cheery wave as he begins to back out of the driveway. “Be safe!”
I watch him until he disappears in the twisting landscape of maples and oaks. The farther away he gets, the more it feels as if my heart is physically crumbling into thousands of pieces.
“I always liked Charles,” Nana says, seemingly oblivious to the men lathering her body with attention. With a roll of her eyes, she grips the hair of one of the men and pushes him away. He collapses onto his ass, eyes
