Laverne ignores her in favor of staring at me.
“How did you manage to find your way into this family?” she asks, which surprises me.
“Grandma.” Parrish’s tone holds a sharp warning that Laverne either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore.
“It just seems odd to me that you heard about a wealthy family looking for a lost child and then magically appeared, ready to enjoy all the benefits that come with it.”
Tess slams her wineglass down on the table and stands up, her chair legs scraping across the floor.
“She took three DNA tests, Laverne. And look at her. I mean, really look at her. You’re always scheming and plotting behind other people’s backs, so you assume everyone else is doing the same.” Tess throws back her wine as I stand there with my plate of food and try to decide if I should run or simply chuck my body out of one of the upstairs windows. Surely the high desert would be more forgiving than this crazy family?
“What do you think of your new sister, Parrish?” Laverne asks, as if she didn’t just call me a gold digger and a liar two seconds prior.
Parrish slams his plate down on the table so hard that it cracks before turning to look at his grandmother.
“First off, she is not my sister. Stop calling her that.” I hear the same words from him that he’s been repeating like a mantra since moment one only … the meaning is different. I catch myself holding my breath and force out a long exhale. “Second … she …” He chokes on the words for a moment before reaching up and running his inked fingers through his hair. “She’s alright. She definitely isn’t here for fun. Who would be? This family fucking sucks.”
“Parrish.” It’s a warning from Paul this time.
“And you can’t make someone love you by controlling them,” Parrish says next, surprising the crap out of me. He looks up and straight at Tess. “You shouldn’t keep her from talking to her sister and her grandparents.”
“Parrish.” This time it’s Tess, but she’s practically choking on his name.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Laverne continues, oblivious to the tension in the room. “You let the boy cover his skin in gangster tattoos and then find yourselves surprised when he talks back.”
“This is his art,” I blurt, surprising myself. “And he’s damn good at it, too. Have you ever looked at his sketchbooks? Do you even care?” I double the portions on my plate, slapping the food onto it with a vengeance. “Excuse us.”
This time, it’s me who grabs Parrish’s hand and drags him away from the table.
We end up sitting and sharing the plate of food at a small table on the opposite side of the room from the shuffleboard table.
“Did we just defend each other?” he asks me, staring hard at the fried rice instead of my face. “When did that happen?”
I do my best to stifle a smile, but it comes through anyway.
“I have no idea, but I like it. It’s much better than you ‘burying me’.” Parrish cringes slightly at the reminder of his opening challenge to me back in February. He picks at the rice with his fork.
“I’m sorry about my grandma. She’s a bitch, but we all put up with her because she’s a billionaire and everyone wants her money when she dies.”
“She’s a billionaire?” I ask dryly. “Like for real? Also, that’s pretty dark.”
Parrish lifts his head up to look at me.
“For real. Also, you’ve met her. Would you willingly hang out with that woman?”
I guess he’s got a point.
We finish our food in silence before Parrish stands up from his stool.
“Goodnight, Gamer Girl.”
I watch his retreating form, trying and failing not to at least glance at his ass in the tight jeans he’s wearing. After a few minutes, I head up the small set of stairs that leads to the first floor.
“Hey,” I whisper, crouching down beside Ben. He’s sitting in an armchair in the living room reading a book. And not on an e-reader or an iPad or a phone, but like, an actual paper book. God, I love this kid. Give us some time and I might actually come to think of him as a brother. “Which room is Parrish’s?”
He points me in the right direction before diving right back into his book. His most frequent arguments with Tess and Paul often involve the phrase ‘just one more chapter!’ so I know we’re kindred spirits. I slip into the room and close the door behind me, putting my back to it and pausing to survey the room.
It’s fancy, much fancier than the one in the basement. There’s a king size bed, walls painted a charcoal gray, and an entire bookcase full of coffee table style art books. He’s even got an attached bathroom, a walk-in closet, and a huge window looking out at the manicured portion of the yard.
