Page 105 of The Ruthless Boys (Adamson All-Boys Academy 2)
I sit down on the edge of the bed as Church sighs and slumps back against the wall, smoothing out his hair with his hand.
“I’m sorry abut my family. They’re beyond fucking intense.”
“I liked them,” I say with a shrug, leaning back on his bed and letting the ocean breeze tease my hair. If I do end up going back to Adamson, I’ll have to cut it. The thought makes me sad, but really, I’d do anything to spend senior year there. Even … pretend to be engaged to the president of the Student Council.
Church studies me for a moment, and then sighs, moving over to sit next to me on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, and our fingers brush together, making me shiver. It feels good when he touches me, but forbidden, like he’s denied it even to himself.
“Are you going to tell me about your sisters, about how they’re not related to you?” I ask, and Church tenses up, glancing away sharply toward his bedroom door. The waves crash against the beach, gulls calling out to each other in the clouds.
“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he admits, and my brows go up. “Not Ranger, or Spencer, not the twins … nobody.” There’s a long pause as Church takes in a deep breath and turns back to me. “Why I told you, I’m not sure.”
“The others all think you … that you like me.” The words come out before I can stop them, and Church’s smile gets a little wider before falling away completely. He looks down at his lap.
“Maybe I told you because I knew you wouldn’t judge?” he starts, but more like he’s talking to himself than he is to me. I curl my fingers around his, and he goes stiff for a brief moment before exhaling and calming himself back down again. Church turns back to look at me. “I’m adopted,” he says, and then he closes his eyes, like that’s the most painful statement in the world.
I try not to laugh, but really, it’s cute that he thinks it’s such a big deal.
“So?” I ask, smiling and giving his hand a squeeze. “You have an awesome family who clearly loves you. What does it matter?”
“My mother was their maid,” Church grinds out, breathing hard. He has the most vulnerable sort of expression on his face. “She left me here after giving birth. Literally, dropped me on the doorstep and left.”
“Wait … what?” I ask, blinking through my confusion. “Your birth mother abandoned you?”
“She left me in a car seat on the porch. My parents took me in, legally adopted me, and then decided to wait until I turned sixteen to tell me the truth.”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
No wonder he’s so upset.
“That’s what I was talking about when I mentioned imposter syndrome. I play the Montague’s only son, this shining example of what it means to be a part of this family, and yet … I’m not. I’m not related to any of them.” He closes his eyes and runs his hand over his face, fingers catching on his lower lip as he opens his eyes back up. It’s sexy as hell, but now’s not the time to be ogling, so I keep my hormones to myself.
“Nobody else knows?” I ask, and Church shakes his head.
“They lived in France with me for two years, told everyone Mom was several months pregnant at the time they left, and played me off as their own son. You’d think, if I had nothing to be ashamed about as they say, that they’d have no need to hide it. And yet, they did.”
“Maybe they were just thinking of you?” I suggest, shrugging one shoulder. “Like, they wanted to make life easy for you. Clearly, you fit right in. As soon as I saw your mother and sister smile, I knew where you’d gotten yours from. Honestly, Church, our biological parents’ DNA might make the shape of our lips, but the way we grin, or laugh, or light up on the inside … that comes from the people that love us.”
He just stares at me.
“Who the hell are you? And what happened to that little brat that knocked my report into the water?”
I grimace, but there’s no getting around the fact that I was a total jerk.
“Look, I never really properly apologized for that. It was a shitty thing to do, and I’m sorry. I was afraid if I spent time working on the project with you, that you’d find out and well … I never expected anyone was going to try to kill me, but …” I trail off because I’m not sure what else to say.
The atmosphere in that big, airy bedroom has suddenly become intimate and close, the way it did in the rest stop lobby.
“I should get your dress,” Church murmurs, standing up and heading over to the closet. “I had it ordered and delivered here for today.” He pulls out a garment bag and hands it over to me. I stand up from the bed and take it, laying it out on top of his white comforter and unzipping it to reveal a beautiful three-tiered tulle ballgown in peach. It has silver floral designs embroidered on it, and I swear, it just floats when I lift it up from the bed.
