Flock (The Ravenhood Duet #1)(4)
“She moved in with Timothy.”
“Really? When?”
“Yesterday. Just give her time to get settled.”
“Okay…” she pauses, “why am I just now hearing this? I knew things were getting bad, but what’s really going on?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” I sigh, giving in to the resentment I’m starting to feel. It’s not like me to hide anything from Christy. “She’s going through something. Timothy is a decent guy, and I trust him with her.”
“But he wouldn’t let you move in.”
“To be fair, I’m an adult, and he doesn’t exactly have the space.”
“I still want to know why she’s okay with letting you live with your dad now.”
“I told you, I have to work at the plant for a year to get her set up. I don’t want to worry about her while I’m at school.”
“It’s not your job.”
“I know.”
“You’re not the parent.”
“We both know I am. And we’ll resume our plans the minute I get back.”
It was a surprise to me that my father agreed to let me attend community college here for a couple of semesters, rather than make me take a sabbatical to start a year late at a more acceptable school. It’s his dime, and he’s the sole source of my college fund, so that win during negotiations let me know he wanted his way enough to compromise—a departure from his controlling personality.
I glance around the room. “I haven’t spent more than a day with him or summered here since I was eleven.”
“Why is that?”
“It was always something. He claimed it was overseas trips and expansion that kept him from being able to care for me for weeks or months at a time. The truth is, I got my period, boobs, and an attitude, and he couldn’t deal. I don’t think there’s anything Roman fears more than being a real parent.”
“It’s weird you call your dad by his first name.”
“Not to his face. When I’m here, it’s Sir.”
“You never talk about him.”
“Because I don’t know him.”
“So, when do you start your job?”
“My shifts will be from three to eleven, but I’ve got orientation tomorrow.”
“Call me when you get off. I’ll let you unpack.”
It strikes me when we disconnect that I’ll be stuck with the silence in the room, of the house, and utterly alone. Roman didn’t even have the decency to meet me here to get me settled.
“Cee?” Christy’s voice sounds as uncertain as I feel.
“Uh, shit. Okay, I’m feeling it now.” I open the French doors that lead onto my private balcony and stare down at the pristine grounds. In the distance is nothing but a blanket of the greenest grass cut in a diagonal shaped pattern, beyond is a thick forest of trees that surround a cell tower. Closer to the house is a well-kept garden that screams southern opulence. Wisteria covers several trellises that canopy statuesque fountains. Hedges covered in trimmed honeysuckle trickle over sporadic fencing. The scent of several blooms wafts to my nose as the breeze hits me in hushed welcome. Plush seating is placed strategically throughout the manicured garden, which I decide will be my reading nook. The large, sparkling pool looks inviting, especially due to the budding summer heat, but I feel too ill at ease as a new resident of the palace to think of it for personal use. “God, this is weird.”
“You’ve got this.”
Her nervous tone is unsettling, and we’re both unsure at this point, which instills more fear in me.
“I hope so.”
“A little over a year and you’re home. You’re almost nineteen, Cee, if you hate it, you can leave.”
“True.” It is the truth, but my agreement with Roman is a different story. If I go back on spending my time at the plant, I lose a fortune, a fortune that could erase my mother’s debt and set her up comfortably for the rest of her life. I can’t—won’t—do that to her. She’s worked herself stupid to care for me.
Christy reads my hesitation.
“This isn’t on you. It was her job to raise you, Cee. That’s the obligation of a parent, which you should never feel obligated to repay.”
It’s true, and I know it, but as I survey Roman’s lifeless palace, I find myself missing her more than ever. Maybe it’s the distancing and treatment from my father that makes me feel such gratitude for her. Either way, I want to care for her. “I know my mother loves me,” I say more for myself than for Christy. Mom’s withdrawal, from life, from me, after all our years together was a cruel and confusing surprise.
“Well, I for one, wouldn’t blame you if you liberated yourself. I love your mom and all, but they both seem worthless at this point.”
“Roman is tolerable, strict, but we managed a few summers. Well, we managed to avoid each other for a few summers. I’m not looking to bond, just survive. This place feels…cold.”
“You’ve never been there?”
“No, not this house. He didn’t build it until after I stopped coming for the summers. I think he lives mostly out of his condo in Charlotte.” Across from my bedroom door a few feet away sits another. I open it, relieved to see it’s a guest room. To my left at the top of the stairs is a mezzanine overlooking the bottom floor foyer leading to a long corridor with more closed doors. “It’s going to be like living in a museum.”