Deep (Heavy Hearts Book 2) by Sarah Duncan (red seas under red skies txt) 📗

but no one is watching anything. Two dark-haired boys bounce on the armchairs throwing coloured balls at each other, while an older girl with green hair at the tips and blonde roots sits in the corner, too busy on her phone to notice anything else going on around her.

“Archie! Connor! Say hi to Lexi!” Rhys hollers over the giggles from the boys. Hearing her, they both turn to me and wave, saying “hi” in sync.

The first thing that grabs me is that they are Asian or something. I have no idea, but the two boys don’t look like Rhys. The next thing that grabs me is that they are identical.

“Twins?” I ask Rhys, and she nods.

“Yep. Twin pains in my arse.” Rhys pokes her tongue out at one of the boys. I don’t know who’s who. “The snob in the corner is Charlotte.”

Hearing her sister speak, Charlotte looks up from her phone and raises a very pointy brow at Rhys before turning her green eyes to me. She looks me up and down with distaste and returns her attention to her phone.

“Happy thing, isn’t she?” I know I shouldn’t be disrespecting Rhys’s sister, but I’m sick of arseholes going around being arseholey!

“Oh, she’s a real fucking treat!” Rhys snickers.

“Bitch.” Charlotte hisses from the corner.

“Mum! Char and Rhys are swearing!” One of the twin's yells.

“Oh, don’t worry, I heard.”

I swing around in shock, instantly recognising the voice. Principal Cynthia Rogan stands before me in a casual pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Usually looking perfectly groomed, today Cynthia looks the opposite with her long brown hair up in a messy high bun and a smudge of flour on her makeup-free cheek.

“Well, I can see by the look on Lexi’s face that you didn’t tell her I am your guardian Rhys,” Cynthia states, looking a little annoyed.

Rhys shoots her a fake smile, “It never came up.”

“I don’t suppose it ever came up that you live with a foster family filled with foster kids?” Cynthia asks while I stand like a stunned idiot. How can Rhys be Mrs Rogan's foster child? Surely, she would try enforcing rules like no nose piercings or black lipstick to her foster kids if she’s a catholic school principal?

“Nope. We have too much other fun stuff to talk about.” Rhys says smugly, and I’m sure Cynthia is going to get angry. She doesn’t, though. She simply rolls her eyes.

“Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Go wash your hands and wait at the table.”

A tornado of dark-haired little boy's stampedes past us while Charlotte slowly rises from her chair and swings her hips as she strolls across the room.

“Lexi, I apologise for the rudeness of my children.” Cynthia declares.

I don’t know what to say in response, so I stay quiet but offer a small smile Cynthia’s way, and she returns it before turning and leaving the room.

I glare at Rhys because I really should have known that her foster mum is the school principal.

“Girl, you might be my best friend, but don’t think I won’t kick your arse if you give me shit about this at school.” Rhys crosses her arms over her chest, challenging me. I laugh.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” I ask, and Charlotte snickers walking past us to leave the room.

“She knows you too well, Rhys.”

“Shut up!” Rhys snaps, glaring at her foster sister.

We follow Charlotte out of the theatre room, down a long hall to the back of the house where we all sit around a large white dining table to eat. William Rogan, Cynthia’s husband, is introduced to me when he joins us at the table, and I experience a very normal dinner, reminding me of dinner at the Grady’s or Mitchell’s houses.

After dinner, we help with the dishes, and I learn that although Rhys pretends to be tough, she has a soft spot for the twins. Even Charlotte manages to get Rhys to laugh.

“Okay, ask your questions. Let’s get the bullshit over and done with.” Rhys whines and flops down on her large queen four-poster bed, which is also white.

“This house is very white. Too white for you.” I announce, and she lifts her head off her bed to look at me.

“Girl, are you racist?”

I laugh. “You know what I mean. Where’s all the colour? Or the darkness. I imagined your room would look like a dungeon.”

Rhys bolts up on her bed, “Oh, you’ve seen into my heart! When I’m old enough to leave this family, I’m totally going to have a dungeon.” Rhys lifts her finger to her chin in thought, “Or perhaps a red room of pain, with whips and chains and…”

“Ah-okay. I got it.” I cut her off, not really wanting to see too far into her sex-crazed mind.

“I’ll let you bring your pack of wolves there to play with you if you’re into that?”

“Rhys.” I sigh. “When are you going to accept that I’m a one-man girl? Why don’t you find a group of guys and have your own reverse harem thing? You talk about it so much. You’re obviously into it.”

She considers my words and then flops back on the bed. “Maybe. My life is a little complicated. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to settle down and have a relationship.”

“So… Marcus is just a one-night stand?”

“Probably more like a three-week stand, or friends with benefits. We will have to see how much he annoys me.” I laugh at Rhys but also feel bad. What if Marcus really likes her? Should I warn him that Rhys isn’t into serious relationships?

“He does have a really pretty cock. I might keep him around for a bit. It’s hard to find pretty ones these days.” Rhys divulges.

“Rhys!” I scold, shocked at her. I don’t know why I’m shocked, though. She is always upfront about this stuff.

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you like the hoods? Eww! No way! I’m a helmet girl all the way.”

“What? Hood? Helmet? What the fuck are you on