Twisted Palace (28 page)

“
W
hat’s this
?” I ask when I get out of the bathroom dressed in my favorite hanging-out clothes—a T-shirt of Reed’s and a pair of shorts.

Today’s dance team practice ran long, so I told Reed to go on home without me. Once I got back, I made him wait until I showered, even though he claims he doesn’t care if I’m sweaty.

Now, I walk into my room and find an assortment of colorful brochures on my bed. Most of them show pictures of teens clutching schoolbooks against their chests.

“Pick one,” Reed says. His eyes are fixed on the TV.

As I get closer, I realize they’re college brochures—about ten of them. “One what?”

“Pick where we’re going to college.”

“We?” Curious, I flip one open.
UNC
, the brochure declares,
has been granting degrees since the eighteenth century
.

“Duh.” He rolls over on his side, crumpling half the glossy pamphlets under his fit body.

“We’re choosing together?” I say in surprise.

“Yup. You said you wanted to dance, so there’s a couple here that offer a good arts degree.” He rummages through the pile and pulls out a red-and-white brochure. “So UNC-Greensboro offers a dance degree and so does UNC in Charlotte. They’re both accredited by the National Association of Schools of Dance.”

A familiar heat starts to course through my body. “Did you research all this stuff?”

“Sure did.”

I suck in my lower lip so I don’t break out in tears. This has to be one of the nicest, most thoughtful things anyone’s ever done for me. I don’t do a good enough job of hiding my emotions, because Reed vaults over the bed and drags me against him.

His eyes search mine. “Are you upset about this?”

“No. This is so sweet,” I blubber.

Smiling, he sits on the edge of the bed and positions me between his legs. He looks half embarrassed, half proud. “I figured it was the least I could do. What were you planning to do before Dad kidnapped you?”

“Ha, so you admit he kidnapped me!”

He grins. “I just said that.”

“Fine. I was going to go to community college and get an associates in business. And then take accounting classes for two years and hopefully find a steady job counting numbers all day. I planned to wear a lot of khaki, eat in the cafeteria, and maybe have a dog to come home to.”

His smile grows broader. “Well, now you can go to an arts college and live off your trust fund.”

“What about your business degree?”

He shrugs. “I can get that anywhere. It’s not like Dad’s not gonna hire me. He’s dying for us to get into the family business. Gid has zero interest. East likes fast cars. The twins are more like—” He breaks off before he says Steve’s name. “The twins like the planes and aren’t interested in running the business.”

I pull out of his embrace and go to the dresser, where I pull out the flier I found on the Astor Park bulletin board tonight—Hailey had pointed it out. I return to Reed and trade his UNC-Greensboro brochure for the flier.

“What’s this?” He turns it over.

“It’s an amateur boxing circuit. I know you like to hit things, but you probably shouldn’t go to the docks anymore. This will let you hit and get hit and it’s perfectly legal. I’m not saying you should do it for the rest of your life, but—”

“I like it,” Reed declares.

“Yeah?”

“I can do this, go to classes, and come home to you, right?”

I melt against him. “Right.” A grin lifts my lips. “Oh, and Val said to tell you to take Wade along. She thinks it’ll be good for him to get punched in his pretty face every now and then.”

Reed snickers. “I thought they were together now!”

“They are.” I laugh as I think about our best friends. They’ve been an official couple for a week, and already Val is laying down the law. “But she’s still making him pay for fooling around with someone else.”

He rolls his eyes. “Chicks are nuts.”

“We are not.” I pinch his side in warning. “Oh, and by the way, I decided I’m going to take dance lessons. It’s the one thing Jordan does that I’m really envious of. And I know I’m not going to be as good as her with a year’s worth of dance lessons, but I still think it would be cool.”

“Dad would love that.”

Reed pulls me on top of him, and I rub against his deliciously hard body. Our lips meet, softly and sweetly. His hands creep under the fabric of my shorts to press me tighter against him. We kiss until we’re breathless and then I roll away, because if we keep this up, we’ll be undressing each other in no time. Dinner’s soon, and we’ve all made a conscious effort to start having meals together as a family.

Plus, Gideon’s coming tonight and I have a gift for him.

“How’re you doing with the whole…?” Reed trails off. As usual, he doesn’t mention Steve in anything other than vague terms.

“I’m good,” I assure him. “And you shouldn’t be afraid to say Steve’s name in front of me. Just don’t call him my father, because he’s not. He never was.”

“No,” Reed agrees. “He was never your dad. There’s not much of him in you.”

“I hope not.”

Except, as much as I want to deny it, Steve
is
my dad, and that trust fund Reed referenced earlier? It’s all of Steve’s money that he signed over to me, with Callum serving as the trustee. I’ve already reduced that trust by about half, but it was for a good cause.

I think Gideon is going to be very, very happy tonight when he finds out about the deal I made with Dinah. In exchange for half of Steve’s money, she burned all the blackmail evidence she had against him and Savannah. I know it’s gone for good, because I stood at the fireplace with her while she lit the match and torched the USB drive, the printed photos, and the legal papers which she haughtily informed me would never have been filed.

It was the same fireplace where Brooke and her baby died, but I try not to think about that too much. Brooke is gone. So is Callum’s unborn child. Nothing is going to bring them back, though, and all we can do now is put the whole tragic ordeal behind us.

I reach out to hold Reed’s hand. “Are
you
okay? Are you feeling better about everything?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I’m definitely relieved that I’m not going to prison, but I’m still pissed at your—at Steve. And I’m angry at my mother, too. But…I’m trying to let it go.”

I completely understand. “What about Easton? Does he seem weird to you lately?” Easton has been strangely subdued this past week.

“I don’t know. I think he might be all twisted up over a girl.”

I flip over on my side. “Seriously?”

The side of Reed’s mouth quirks up. “Seriously.”

“Wow.” I shake my head in astonishment. “Hell’s frozen over.”

“Yup.”

Before I have a chance to grill him more, Callum yells from the foyer. “Dinner’s ready.”

Reed pulls me to my feet. “C’mon, let’s go downstairs. The family’s waiting.”

I love that word, and I love the boy who’s taking my hand and leading me out the door so we can join our family.

My
family.

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W
hen we started writing
Paper Princess
in the fall of 2015, we wrote it for each other. We traded the chapters back and forth via email. The words flew onto the page.

As much as we loved the project, however, we never imagined it would resonate with so many readers all over the world. We’re so very thankful for how you readers have embraced these stories. You’ve given these characters life.

We also need to thank Margo, who sat and listened to our outline and gave us early feedback.

Early readers Jessica Clare, Michelle Kannan, Meljean Brook, and Jennifer L. Armentrout, who gave invaluable critique.

Our publicist Nina, for handling all the publicity for this project. We know it’s been a mountain of work!

We’d be lost without Natasha and Nicole, our assistants, who help make sure we’re on task every day.

And of course, we are forever indebted to all the bloggers, reviewers and readers who took the time to read, review and rave over this book. Your support and feedback makes this whole process worthwhile!

E
rin Watt is
the brainchild of two bestselling authors linked together through their love of great books and an addiction to writing. They share one creative imagination. Their greatest love (after their families and pets, of course)? Coming up with fun--and sometimes crazy--ideas. Their greatest fear? Breaking up. You can contact them at their shared inbox:
[email protected]
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