Savage Royals (Boys of Oak Park Prep 1)

“Oh. That’s cool.” I shrugged. “I’ve never really been a huge fan of it.”

“What’s not to love?” He tipped his head, chuckling. “Charlotte adored it. When she was a little girl, she’d tear down the stairs every Christmas morning like her feet were on fire. She’d always fall asleep by noon and nap until dinner because she’d been up all night Christmas Eve. This is her favorite holiday.”

“Was,” Jacqueline said softly.

Philip blinked. The happy smile slipped from his face, and his eyes clouded over as he leaned against his desk, toying with his glass. “Yes. Was.”

I couldn’t tell if he’d honestly forgotten my mom was dead, or if he’d just gotten carried away in his enthusiasm and used the wrong verb tense. Either way, pity swelled in my chest, making my heart ache.

“Let’s… leave your grandfather alone for a bit.” Jacqueline put an arm around my shoulders, turning me around and steering me from the room. “Why don’t you get settled in? Philip, dinner will be at five.”

I peeked over my shoulder as I left and saw him drain the glass in one gulp, his face a mask of sadness.

Shit. He’s hurting. Why haven’t I noticed that before?

The way they usually talked about my mom, especially in reference to the few years before she’d left Roseland, had made me honestly question whether they’d loved her at all. But the look on his face, the way he’d beamed when he desc

ribed her as a little girl, made it sound like this had once been a happy home.

It was nice to think my mom had had a good childhood, but it also left me more confused than ever. If my grandparents had loved her so much, what on earth had she done to make them disavow her completely? Had things really gotten that bad? Had she really stepped that far out of line?

What the hell happened?

My thoughts whirled as Jacqueline led me up the stairs and deposited me in my room, where my bags were already waiting. “Greta will fetch you for dinner in a few hours.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She closed the door softly behind her, but I didn’t sit down. My whole body had felt wired ever since Friday night, alternately exhausted and buzzing with energy. So once her footsteps faded into the distance, I stepped back out into the hallway. Jacqueline had given me a tour when I’d arrived back in September, but it hadn’t covered the whole house—and I’d been so overwhelmed by the newness of everything that I hardly remembered it anyway.

I had three hours to kill until dinner, so I poked around from room to room. Every room was tastefully decorated and beautifully furnished, but it still seemed so devoid of life—I kept thinking I’d stumble upon the room where they kept their actual stuff.

As I headed down a long hallway on the third floor, something caught my eye. I stopped and stared at a picture on the wall, my brows scrunching up.

It was of my mother when she was younger, surrounded by group of people who looked about her age. But what had made me pause was the sight of the child in her arms—a young girl with short, brown curls in a yellow sundress. A few of the other people in the photo held children too, and everyone smiled broadly at the camera.

“What are you doing up here?”

I jumped at the sound of Philip’s voice and pressed a hand to my chest, trying to slow my rapid pulse.

“Sorry.” He chuckled softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.” I forced a smile to my face. “I was just exploring the house, and I saw this picture of my mom.” I turned back to it, squinting slightly at the toddler propped on her hip. “Is that… me?”

Philip walked over, squinting at the large photo. “Ah. Yes. And the Whittaker, Van Buren, Prescott, and Mercer boys.”

My stomach dropped.

Holy fuck.

I knew every one of those names like they’d been imprinted on the backs of my eyelids.

Finn Whittaker. Mason Van Buren. Elijah Prescott. Cole Mercer. The Princes.

I stared at the photo, my nose hovering so close it almost brushed against the glass. “I don’t understand. I knew them? She knew them?”

“Yes. Your mother was very close to those families when she was younger. When the five of you were babies, you were near inseparable. Especially the Van Buren boy. He wouldn’t let anyone else near you if he was around. And if anyone picked you up, even Charlotte, he’d cry his eyes out.”

“No way,” I muttered.