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“They don’t, but Louis does.” Saint shrugs, piling pancakes onto her plate before reaching for the chocolate syrup. That’s my bad. I basically hand-fed her the shopping addiction she so candidly utilizes.
“Where’s Nate?”
“He’s coming,” Eli says, entering the kitchen with Cash and Hunter right behind him. “Mmmm, pancakes.”
“I need everyone out of my fucking house.”
Saint
I never understood why Brantley was the way he was. Why he was filled with such anger and hatred. Not that I saw it often, because I didn’t. Once or twice. There were times where he would snap at me growing up, but it wasn’t in a way that made me fear for my life. I trust him to an extent, so that begs the question that I’ve been asking myself since hand-feeding him a pancake in the kitchen this morning—right before his fingers were against my skin and his whispers on the nape of my neck.
Why have I not told him about the texts I’ve received?
“So, I thought we could do some shopping, maybe? Go buy some food? Oh! I know!” Tillie grins, rubbing the palms of her hands together while swinging on the barstool. “Let’s get you drunk!”
“Ahhh.” My brows knit. “I don’t know. I’ve never had alcohol before—”
“Girl, you have a death wish,” Veronica interrupts, carrying countless bags of new groceries.
“V!” I jump up from my chair and wrap my arms around her neck.
“How you doing, Snow. He back now and allowing other visitors?” Veronica, or as I like to call her, V, has been the housekeeper since, well, since Lucan died and Brantley started disappearing. She and I bonded over a debate about the Salem witch trials. I argued that witches aren’t real and they burned people out of fear.
V doesn’t agree. She’s originally from Danvers, which was formerly known as Salem Village. V is firm on her beliefs when it comes to the history of Salem Village.
She was probably right, I just enjoyed finally talking with someone.
“He—yeah. He’s around a lot more often now. Tillie, this is V. V, this is Tillie. She’s Brantley’s friend’s girlfriend.”
V hooks her finger into the wire of her glasses and slides them down the bridge of her nose. “Hmmm.”
Tillie remains passive. She nods politely at V, but it’s far from the friendly girl I’m beginning to know.
“Ahhh, she’ll warm up.” I tap Tillie’s arm before looking back to V, who is now emptying all of the food into the Tupperware containers. Brantley likes things to be in order—everywhere—so it’s part of her duties to make sure everything is labeled and in the right place.
He’s, what’s the word? Controlling.
“So, drinking?” Tillie waggles her brows. “Come on!”
I nudge my shoulders noncommittally. “Only if you agree no parties or bars.”
She crosses her heart.
“Oh, and we stay home and watch movies.”
Tillie rolls her eyes and hooks her arm in mine. “Yeah, yeah, all right.”
We drive to the closest 7-Eleven in Tillie’s Ferrari. I did offer to take my Tesla, but she said she was already in enough trouble with Brantley.
Once we’re parked out front, she removes her belt and rests her hand over her belly. I always forget she’s pregnant, because she’s so small. “In and out. No messing around.”
“Agreed.” We both slide out and make our way through the electronic sliding doors. Heading straight for the junk food section—because V would never buy this food—we start piling snacks into the baskets.
“You know, my best friend’s chocolates are Sulpice Debauve’s pralines. We used to hang out in her room, get drunk, eat chocolate, and at that time, I used to have to put up with one of our other friends fucking Nate.”
I pause, my finger hovering over the Reese’s cups. I grab seven. “Wait, you mean he had sex with your friend?” Once I remember the discussion with Brantley last night, I toss the candy bars into the basket. “Never mind. Brantley sort of filled me in last night with calling red on girls.”
Tillie ignores my comment, falling quiet. “Mmmm. It’s a little weird to most people, but the dynamic of The Kings has always been like this. With every woman that a King falls in love with, another King also has, well, a kind of bond with her. Usually not platonic and always sexual.”
I toss in a bag of hot Cheetos. “And no one gets jealous that someone else is touching that person?”
Tillie shrugs as we make our way to the counter. “I mean, yes and no. For me, it was Nate and Brantley. For Madison, it was Bishop and Nate. For you… I’m not sure.”
That catches my attention. “What do you mean, for me? I’m not with any of them.”
Tillie’s eyes come to mine as she blindly piles our poor eating choices onto the conveyer belt. “Oh, but you are…”
We make it back home safely, and I quickly run up the stairs and into my room while V vacuums the living area. Once Tillie kicks the door closed, she comes up behind where I am, gazing out the curtains to the three men who are stationed outside the house. They’re all dressed in suits, wearing black glasses and gun holsters outside their clothing. One is even carrying an AK.