Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
She was about to challenge him on his claims when a cheery knock sounded at the door, accompanied by an equally chirpy, “Room service.”
Ben gave her one last look before heading indoors to let the server in. Lilah took the opportunity to take a shaky breath. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed by the interruption—either way, it had merely delayed an inevitable conversation.
TWELVE
Fifteen Years Ago
“Lilah, this is the young man I’ve been telling you about. Ben, this is my granddaughter, Lilah. I trust you two will get along well. Lilah, I expect you to help Ben acclimatize to the country and the house.”
Ben stared down at the girl laying on her stomach on the huge, plush sofa in one of the biggest rooms he’d ever seen in his life. She was wearing a pair of shorts with a tank, and seemed to be all arms and legs, with overly long brown hair messily blanketing her narrow back.
She was staring down at her phone and lifted her gaze from the screen to give Ben a dismissive once over.
The look rubbed an already defensive Ben up the wrong way.
Jesus. What a brat.
It’s not like he fucking wanted to be here. In this overly-hot country, and this stupidly big house, with these strangers. So he needed this kid’s shite attitude about as much as he needed a third nipple.
He didn’t even know this old geezer who claimed to be his granddad’s best friend and Ben’s apparent legal guardian. A legal guardian he’d never even heard of before three weeks ago when his whole world had imploded.
He shoved his hands into his front jean pockets and glared down at the floor, wishing he was back home in their tiny kitchen, watching his mam cook some trout Ben and his dad had caught fly-fishing.
He felt a pang of loss so sharp, his stomach cramped with it. The grief threatened to overwhelm him right then and there and he blinked rapidly, not wanting to humiliate himself by crying in front of this snobby girl and her strange, old granddad.
He was aware of the girl scrambling to her feet for some reason and sneaked a peek at her from beneath his hair. He was almost immediately overwhelmed by another spasm of grief combined with guilt. His mam had been nagging him to cut it every day for nearly two weeks before the bus accident that had taken both his parents from him. Now, three weeks after he’d lost them, he still hadn’t done so. Why hadn’t he just cut his fucking hair? It would’ve made her happy.
Suddenly Ben couldn’t wait for a private moment, so that he could shave it all off. He couldn’t stand the thought of it growing even another inch.
The girl was standing in front of him now. She couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen. She seemed tall for her age. Not that Ben was an expert or anything. She just seemed to be lanky. Ben had shot up over the last few years, his mam had complained about the seams she’d had to let out of all his trousers. And if Ben’s growth spurt was any indication, it only stood to reason that this girl would probably grow into those long, gangly arms and legs eventually.
She looked like a clumsy newborn colt in those denim shorts. And her t-shirt was too small and too tight over her flat chest.
She’d probably already started that growth spurt.
She folded her arms over her chest and peered up at him closely.
What the hell? Why was she staring at him?
Despite himself, Ben’s eyes flickered down to hers. She had weird eyes. Light brown… almost gold. He didn’t like them. They were eerie.
He wasn’t sure he really liked anything about her. He wasn’t used to being around kids her age anyway, but from what he knew about them—thanks to his friends’ younger siblings—they were pests.
He was aware of the old man, Cyrus, watching them both expectantly and offered the girl—what did the man say her name was? Lily? Lilac? Something unusual—a nod and a grunted, “Hey.”
“Hi,” she replied, clearly trying emulate the boredom and disinterest in Ben’s voice.
Ben watched—fascinated—as a range of emotions flickered across her freckled face. Wariness, resentment, fear, anger, and then—to his utter humiliation—pity.
Who the hell did this girl think she was? He didn’t need her fucking pity. He hadn’t asked to come here. He’d hoped Cyrus would cart him off to a boarding school and remain a benevolent, distant benefactor. But the old man seemed to be taking this whole guardianship thing seriously. He’d informed Ben that he would be moving from Inverness to Cape Town and living with Cyrus and his granddaughter. Ben had zero options. No money, no prospects, no family, not even a home. Their house had been a rental and Ben would have been left homeless if Cyrus hadn’t shown up when he did.