Page 4 of The Lost Kings

Presley

G rowing up I learned how to take a hit, probably harder than was necessary, but my uncle’s methods were unconventional.

Frayed knuckles I could tape up, glue together in some cases.

Ice baths were helpful for the bruises and aching ribs I’d earned over the years.

There were tools for every injury. Scotty taught me how to endure, how to eliminate weakness, and live without it myself.

Unfortunately, no one ever once considered that I might need to learn how to break.

Perhaps if they had, then I wouldn’t be tucked in my best friends’ empty bed, staring at artwork that we’d done together when we were kids. I wouldn’t be trying to take a hit off their pillows as if they were a drug just to feel as though they were still here.

I wouldn’t be doing this every night instead of sleeping.

If my parents or Scotty knew I was merely placing things inside of tidy compartments in my head and pulling them out to grieve over later, maybe they’d realize I needed help.

I could complete the lessons given to me in a timely fashion and with precision, but then I was left alone.

Left to wander the halls of a mansion that was split into four family wings, two of which were empty.

A salty tear slipped into a crack along my lip that hadn’t healed yet from my last training session. The sting was a reminder that I was human.

Alive.

Kingston used to say, “Plants can breathe, Presley, and if you’re ever unsure, just hide it from the sun and tear out its roots.”

I had argued something stupid just for the sake of arguing. Probably because I just wanted him to keep talking to me and I couldn’t stand the idea of him ever stopping.

The picture of the farm I drew as a kid taped above his bed shifted as the AC kicked on and it made my gaze wander over to the opposite side of the room.

Navy blue bedding was draped over a queen-sized bed; Gio’s posters were mostly related to star systems and how to navigate them. Moon rocks, glow worms, and a few NASA posters from when he wanted to be an astronaut.

Gio used to tell me I was the brightest star in his universe, then he’d pretend to blast me with some homemade star-blasting machine. He’d joke that I was so bright I needed to be broken into tiny pieces and shared.

The memory had my fingers curling tightly into the covers. Wetness tracked down my face as I glared at the ceiling. A flame burned deep in my belly to stand up and rip the image away from any place that anyone could ever see it again. Especially one of the brothers that had a hand in ruining me.

Because really there wasn’t one person who had a hand in breaking me…there were two.

My cousin Carter was the same age as the twins, which meant she was a year and a half older than me.

When we were younger, she liked to rub that in my face and remind me that she was in charge.

However, Alex, the twin’s older sister, would then remind Carter who was actually in charge, so while my cousin and I should have bonded, I drew closest to Alex and the twins.

Throughout the years, Carter and her parents would come and go, not really living in the manor like we did.

It became easier to feel detached from her, and she didn’t understand why I was always training, nor did she care to know.

She would typically arrive like a hurricane, toss her things, dump all her drama, and then make the weekend all about her before leaving again.

It used to bug me when I was younger, because I felt like I had no room to fit inside her larger-than-life world.

She traveled more than me; she went to school.

It wasn’t exactly public school, but private school was still better than doing your homework at the kitchen table while your uncle fed table scraps to the dogs.

Now, seeing her come in wearing a pair of two-hundred-dollar sunglasses, with extensions in that went past her ass, I was beyond grateful for her antics.

“Oh my god, did someone die? Why are you hugging me?” Carter was stiff, with her arms dropped to her sides as I squeezed her.

Finally releasing her, I let out a sigh. “Just so glad you’re here.”

She threw her purse, which was practically a duffel bag to the couch, and plopped down.

“Well at least someone appreciates me.” She crossed her arms, and I took in how her reddish-brown hair had gotten lighter while her self-tanning applications had gotten darker.

She’d inherited the James’ family mossy eyes that my dad, her, and Uncle Scotty all had. I was insanely jealous of that fact.

I sat next to her, tucking my feet up under me. “Why do you say that?”

“Because my parents left me here. They literally dropped me off and said they had to go to Belize without me. Like, what the fuck could they be doing that’s so important? Whatever, at least this place is big, and I’ll have my section of the manor to myself. Where are the twins? ”

That’s when she really inspected me, as if I were missing two sets of arms and legs.

“Wait.” She swung her head around the room, then stood up. “It’s your birthday, they aren’t here?”

Just then, Alex walked into the room from the terrace and plopped onto the couch across from me.

“My brothers are idiots.”

Guilt sprung up like a resilient weed, and in my silence, I was grateful that Alex never looked at me or acted as though I was the reason her brothers had left.

Carter placed her hands on her hips, her black leggings were paired with flip-flops and a crop tank, revealing her toned stomach. “I figured they’d be back by now…especially on your birthday…”

My gaze met hers and while I tried so hard to tamp down the emotions surfacing, my eyes began to water.

“Oh shit.” My cousin dropped into a crouch in front of me, and while we’d never been close, not really, she threw her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, Pres. You three were inseparable. Annoyingly so, but I can’t believe those idiots still haven’t pulled their heads out of their asses.”

“Carter, stop reminding her that my two moron brothers left. I’ve been trying to cheer her up, but it isn’t working.” Alex sighed, and it made me laugh because what the hell else could I do?

She pulled away from me and eyed the blonde on the couch across from me. “Well, I’m here now. We’re going to have a girls’ night. My side of the manor is empty; we’re going to party over there.”

I was only seventeen. Carter was almost nineteen, and Alex was twenty-one…but we’d never really followed any of the rules. There was enough alcohol in this house to have a fun night alone in the empty part of the manor, so I perked up and swiped at a few stray tears.

“I’ll grab some nacho cheese from my pantry. And chips! ”

Alex sat up and held her finger up. “I want margaritas, and only margaritas.”

Carter rolled her eyes but agreed. “Fine.”

An hour later, I was stirring nacho cheese in a saucepan while Carter turned on 13 Going on 30 at the same time she attempted to use some new, trendy workout machine.

It looked like an ironing board and a thigh master had a baby, and while Carter used her knees to pull herself up, she kept crying out each time the thing wobbled.

Alex was blending the margaritas, and something in my chest loosened. I had needed this.

Six months without them, and every day I felt like I wouldn’t make it without breaking down. With Carter and Alex, I at least felt like I could breathe again.

After finishing off two drinks and a pile of nachos, things were beginning to wind down. Alex had turned off the blender, double fisting two of her own drinks while reclining on the couch.

“Okay, I have a question for you, Presley!” Carter laughed while sipping the last of her drink. She was on her third margarita and had apparently hit her limit based off how frequently she was laughing.

“Yeah?” I called over my shoulder. I was now trying out Carter’s work out machine. The thing really was unstable, but it was also sort of fun.

Carter crawled next to me on the floor and whisper-shouted, “I think I finally figured out what Uncle Kyle does for work.”

“Oh yeah?” I pulled my knees up, gripping the handles.

Shit the whole thing nearly toppled over again.

Carter was never invited into the confidential details of what our family did.

Mostly because her family left too often and didn’t want to live in the safety of the manor.

Because of that, Dad always said it was imperative that Carter never learn what anyone did.

“He’s in the mafia!”

I fell off the machine and rolled onto my back. Alex’s eyes grew from her spot on the couch, but she didn’t say anything .

“Why would you think that?” I slowly got to my hands and knees and tried to get up.

Carter smiled and tapped my nose. “How does anyone think that? I don’t think it, I know it.”

I hated drunk Carter. “Okay, but how do you know it, then?”

She dropped to her butt then sprawled out on her back. “Because I saw something I wasn’t supposed to…isn’t that how all these things start? I saw your dad shoot someone…do you think that means he’ll shoot me too?”

Her words were like shards of ice being tossed at my chest. Memories of when I had found out clouded my mind, making me nervous about what would happen to her. This was a major breach if she truly did see something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Carter, what did you see?”

She was already relaxing with her head on a cushion and her eyes closed, but before she fell asleep, she muttered something that had Alex shooting up from her seat and running to find Scotty. As for me, it sent a cold chill down my spine as a memory surfaced.

“The Joker.”