Luciella screws her face up as she and Stacey stop a few doors down from ours. Perfect. Just what I fucking need.
“Please, Sebastian, stop being so vulgar.”
Despite my infuriation right now, I fight a smirk as Base glares at her. “Don’t call me that.”
“It’s your name, is it not?” She opens her door; Stacey slips in without a word. My sister’s eyes burn into me. “Be ready in an hour. And don’t you dare ruin this for Dad.”
I narrow my brows. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
She shakes her head. “Someone who used to be my brother, but now he’s possessed by a fucking battered demon. Get a grip of yourself, Kade. When did you last sleep?”
I stare at her.
Base folds his arms in a huff. “Don’t call me Sebastian.”
“Okay, Sebastian,” Luciella shouts as she slams the door.
“I might kill your sister,” he says, shaking his head and picking up one of my bags. “She’s been doing my head in ever since we left the manor. I asked if she wanted to join—” He stops. “Never mind.”
Lovely.
The room is large, with two single beds, an en suite with a shower and bath, and a balcony that looks over the pool.
“Think they’ll come out tonight as well?” he asks as he drops onto his bed. “Luciella won’t give me the time of day, so maybe I’ll approach her best friend.”
“Sounds toxic. ”
“Because I, Sebastian Ivanovich Prince, am toxic.” He winks at me, then says in Russian, “I’ll make your sister realise I’m her one true love by fucking her best friend.”
Eye twitching, I head for the bathroom to shower – again.
“Wait. Did you understand what I said?” Base sits up, confusion on his face. He has no idea I’m multilingual. “Hey, what’s up with you? You said you were cool with me liking Luciella?”
“I am.” I stop before I can close the door. “I’m just tired.”
He grunts. “Fine. I’ll make plans. Give me your phone. Mine is dead.”
I toss him it. I have all my work shit under passwords – the last thing I need is him knowing the secret life I live; that I’m not the engineering student he believes I am.
But he tilts his head as soon as he unlocks it. “Eh, Kade?” He rises from the bed, turning the screen to me, and my heart sinks. “Why do you have a picture of an ultrasound on your phone? You knock someone up?”
Before he can inspect the picture and see the woman’s name, I swipe it out of his hand. “Charge and use your own fucking phone, and no, I didn’t knock anyone up.”
“That was a baby scan.”
I shake my head. “I mean it, Base. Drop it.”
“I’m your best friend. You can tell me this shit. Who did you get pregnant? When are you going to be a dad? I need to know this shit! I’ll be Uncle Base!”
If only he knew how old this scan is.
I glare at him as I grip my phone in my palm. “Stop.”
Raising both hands, he stands back. He doesn’t believe me, but I don’t push the subject before getting back into the bathroom and trying not to fucking pass out from how fast my heart is racing.
Once the door is locked, I turn on the shower, waiting for the place to steam up with my head in my hands. I have the worst migraine building, I feel like I have blood and guts all over me, and I’m uncomfortable as fuck.
The scalding water burns my skin for ten minutes before I shut it off, get dressed and head down to reception to meet my mum, Ewan and my sister.
Base and Stacey aren’t coming to see my dad. Mum suggests they go for a drink and wait on us, which grinds my gears because I know for a fact Base will flirt with her until his tongue falls off.
The Uber to my dad’s facility takes half an hour, and Ewan talks to me about his new project and ways I can help. He’s been trying to get me back into construction with him; he’d probably noticed I’m a bit off the rails. I always enjoyed helping – it kept my head straight – but right now I have neither the time nor the mental capacity to focus on something like that.
Ewan tells us he’ll catch up in an hour, that he’s going to speak to someone in the building about a contractor. He always wants to give my parents time together. It helps Dad to have time with my mum. It’s quite the bond they have, considering their horrific history.
It’s a twisted love, and it’s warped Dad’s mind so much that he can’t focus on anyone else without comparing them to her or instantly becoming obsessive again.
He’s a diagnosed psychopath who loves Mum in his own way – learned, studied, even if it’s not the same way a neurotypical person would love. It’s limited, the way he feels, but it’s enough to never break the bond they have.
Kind of sad if you think about it. Being in love with the same woman for over twenty years and knowing they’ll never have a happy ending must be hard. Sometimes I compare their story to mine and Stacey’s, and wonder if I’ll still be watching her in twenty years.
Probably.
Shit. I am like my dad.
As soon as we get into the main area of the facility, an indoor park with a man-made pond, we spot Dad at the picnic bench – the one he always sits and waits at for visits.
He glances over his shoulder, and his eyes light up. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says as he gets to his feet and hugs Mum. They hold each other, as if they hadn’t just spent hours together yesterday. “Did you get a good sleep?”
“I did,” Mum replies, cupping his face and smoothing her thumbs over his skin. “You shaved. Did Luciella’s comment about getting grey hairs in your beard go to your head?”
He smirks. Mum grins and blushes.
Me and Luciella stand behind them in silence.
Dark and threatening eyes land on me, and for the first time in God knows how long, I think he might hit me. Anxiety scratches at me as he moves, studying my face, my eyes, all the tattoos I’ve acquired in the last two years. “Hello, son.”
Lips flattening, I nod. “Dad.”
Usually, when I visit, he’ll pull me in for a hug or offer me some words of encouragement about how good I look, how much my workouts have been doing me justice. But this time, he just stares, trying to read me .
With minimal sleep, a sore side from being shot, a bruised face from Crawley’s punch, a comedown and barely looking after my health the past three days, I’d be surprised if I looked normal right now. I’m probably drawn and looking exhausted. And I definitely forgot to sort my hair. It’s an abomination of curls and waves in all directions, hanging over my forehead.
Luciella breaks the awkward moment by cuddling him, and only then does he perk up and lead us to the pond area.
He holds my mum’s hand, Luciella hooks her arm around his and I walk behind them – silent, unable to even think of a conversation starter while they discuss what they’re planning to do over the next few days.
I shouldn’t be here. There’s no reason for me to be here.
He lost another appeal, but I already knew he’d lose it. He wanted to visit Scotland for a weekend, but because I failed to do as I was told, Bernadette made sure the appeal fell through, and now he’s permanently blocked from ever entering the United Kingdom.