King of Corium (Corium University Trilogy 1)

“Hi!” She greets me like seeing me is the most exciting thing that’s happened to her all day.

“Hey, what are you up to?” I ask, making conversation.

“Oh, the usual, being wild and rowdy. Got blackout drunk last night and had a bunch of guys over… I think they were bikers.” She taps her finger on her chin and scrunches her nose like she is thinking.

“Yeah, right.” I snort. “I’m sure the guards let them right in.”

“Oh, they party with us, and we had a stripper popping out from a cake!”

“Your imagination knows no bounds. You should write a book or something.”

“Hmm, maybe I will. Have to make it through high school first, though.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ll probably graduate way early.” Scarlet is only fifteen, but she’s skipped two grades already, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she started studying here before I was done. The idea of having my little sister here with me both excites and terrifies me.

“Yeah, you’re right. I totally will. What about you? How is school going? How is Ren? Did you guys make friends yet? Are the teachers nice?” She goes on, bombarding me with questions.

“Calm down. I’ll tell you everything.” I lean back against the headboard and start telling her about the school, what the classes are like, down to what the cafeteria serves. I don’t mention Aspen, and I’m not planning on doing so in the future.

“Q, you should really talk to Mom—”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll talk to her when she is ready to tell me the truth about my birth mother.”

“Q…” Scar gives me her best puppy dog eyes, and I already know I’m going to give in. “Don’t make her suffer because you are stubborn. You know she can’t go against Dad’s wishes. He doesn’t want you to know. Please, Q. Mom is really hurting, and I hate seeing her like that.”

“All right, stop with the guilt trip and get her on the phone.” The words have barely left my mouth when Scarlet is already up and running out of her room. I have to look away from the screen since the video is bouncing up and down, making my brain hurt.

“Mom! Mom! It’s Q,” Scar announces in excitement. “He wants to talk to you.”

Scar shoves the phone into Mom’s hand, and her face fills the screen. Her mass of strawberry blond hair is tied into a bun on top of her head, and her blue eyes clash with mine. I’m reminded instantly why I chose not to talk to them yet.

Just looking at her—the only mother I’ve ever known—is like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Quinton,” she whispers, almost like she can’t believe I’m here.

“Mom.” In my eyes, she is my mom and always will be; even if we don’t share DNA, we share more important stuff. Love. Memories—laughter, sadness, happiness, and pain.

Her pink lips form a smile. “How are you? How is school?”

“Everything is going good.” I try not to sound as tense as I feel.

She nods. “That’s good. Everything here is mostly the same.” She pauses before adding, “Your father and I miss you.”

“I doubt he does,” I bite out. If he missed me that much, he wouldn’t have sent me away without telling me the truth.

“He does… and I… since you left, I feel like I’ve lost two children.” Her blue eyes get all misty, and it’s like a knife plunges into my chest at the image on the screen before me.

Fuck, now I feel like shit, and on top of that, guilty. I’ve been putting off talking to either of them, the anger and sadness still as fresh as the day I found out the truth, well, the partial truth.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called and talked to you sooner. I don’t want you to worry about me. I just…” I trail off. Suddenly, avoiding her seems like nothing more than a tantrum. I was so fucking selfish to make her suffer just because of what my father did.

“It’s fine. I know you are grieving too, and then the other thing on top of that. It couldn’t have been easy to have your whole world turned upside down. I just want you to know it never mattered to me. I loved you all the same, and you will always be mine in my eyes.”

“You’ll always be my mom,” I murmur and look away from the camera, getting uncomfortable with the onslaught of emotions. “Can we talk about something else now?” I clear my throat, which feels constricted somehow.

“Yes.” Mom laughs, and the sound is like a warm blanket on a dark, chilly night.

“Tell me about classes. Are you learning anything?”

I give her the same washed-out response I gave Scarlet, which seems to satisfy her just the same. After a few more minutes of talking, my arm is already getting stiff from holding the phone in front of my face.