Delayed by Nathan Kingsly (the false prince TXT) 📗

home, it’s after I tell you not to. If I had known reverse psychology would work on your simple mind, I would have done it years ago.”

“So you do want me here?”

Her mouth twists but otherwise continues without acknowledging she heard me. “I wasn’t joking, like I’m not now. Get the hell out of my house, and go back to wherever it is you’ve been hiding.” With that, she spins on her heels and walks out of the room, disappearing around a corner. A second later, I hear a cabinet slam and the tinny metallic sound of a pan.

Mom and I look at one another, and her mouth tips to one side. “Give her a few days; she’ll consider her words and know how to apologize for them.”

“She’s not the only one that needs to apologize.”

“There will be time for that. I’d invite you to stay, but this isn’t my house.”

“Why are you here? Did they kick you out of the hospital after all?”

Her expression's puzzled before she smooths it again. “No, your sister signed me out. I went because I felt too...” She swallows, her fingers twitch at her side, and for a moment, her eyes get glossed over as if she were far away.

“Yeah, I know. Did they really put you in a padded room?”

Her clear eyes focus back. “Your sister has a flair for the dramatic.” She rolls her eyes and holds out a hand. My hand is so much bigger than hers. She turns our hands over and pats the top of mine, and I’m glad it isn’t the one in the bandage. “Call me when you’ve found somewhere to hunker for the night, and I’ll soften your sister up for your next attempt.”

“I’m not sure I can leave you here.” My hand tenses in her grip at the thought, and my heart pounds in my ears. Now that I’m here, I don’t want to leave again.

Her smile is sad, but her eyes are smiling. “Only a few more days.” She starts walking me to the door. When she wraps me in another hug, I’m sure I can’t let go, but Mia changes my mind when I see her standing back in the hall, clutching a knife as if I am an unclaimed victim of a horror movie.

“Make sure to lock up and set the alarm. Don’t open the door until I come back tomorrow.”

Mia spins the knife in her hand, and the business end points at me as she barks her reply. “Don’t even bother coming back, Liam, I mean it.”

I catch my mom rolling her eyes as she shuts the door, and my shoulders relax a fraction when I hear the sound of the locks clicking into place.

Turning, I take in my surroundings again and pick up the bag I’d left on the front step. Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I pull up Google, and find the nearest hotel, and groan aloud. Ten miles away, add the time it takes for a taxi driver to get here; let’s call this a recipe for disaster. I won’t be able to get here in time if they need me. Checking for traffic, I cross the street and take a seat on the curb facing the house.

Placing my bag close by, my hands cradle either side of my head, my elbows balancing on my crisscrossed legs, as I ride the emotion rattling around inside me. Six years I avoided coming home, and in one interaction with family, I'm facing the fact that I'd gone about this all wrong.

If I’d stayed, Mia and I might have kept the close twin relationship we’d once had. At the very least, I could have supported her through the rest of her college years if I’d just stayed. My hands dig into my scalp, and the roots of my hair strain as I grip them in my fist. There would be less pain and anger behind her gaze, but I took that from us. My sister and I are never one to give second chances without good cause. If we are still alike in the regard of second chances, it will be a long way back into her good graces.

Then, the way mom held me, as if everything that happened is merely the past, and she no longer views me as the villain’s accomplice. Could I have helped her heal faster, had her back sooner, if I’d been around, and not run like a coward?

“Excuse me, sir?” A deep baritone calls out to my right.

I look up. The sun is at the man’s back, and it’s impossible to see his face. Shielding my eyes, his features come into focus.

“Officer,” I say back, looking into his aged face.

He gestures around with his hand and looks towards the nearest houses. “You live around here?”

I shake my head, but before I open my mouth to respond, he’s onto the next inquiry.

“Where are you from?”

“Originally from here, but a resident of California for the past six years. I’m here visiting family.”

“If you need a ride, I can give you one as long as it’s on this side of town.”

“That's not necessary.”

“It is, actually. We’ve received a call about your loitering. This neighborhood is quiet, and you’re making the residents unsettled.” He scrutinizes me more intensely than before, taking in my tattoos with renewed interest. “You can’t stay here.”

“My family, they live right across the street. So, I’m where I need to be.” I flick the hand that’s not shielding my eyes at Mia’s house.

His eyes drift over, squint, and then widen. He pulls out a notepad in his back pocket and flips it open. My brows start to knit when his mouth twists into a frown, and he looks between me and the paper. After another second, he flips it back closed and slips it back in his pocket. “Don’t know how to tell you this son, but the people in that house are the ones that called us.”

My own mouth twists this