Boxed Set: The Ink Series Volume 1-5 Read online

  “So sure. I had dinner before I came, remember?”

  Tucker nodded. “Well, come on, let’s mingle. I could show you my dad’s house.” He took me by the hand.

  I couldn’t help noticing the woman staring me down now. Apparently our hand holding was a big upset. I tried pulling away from Tucker, sensing the hostility. Especially from one woman in particular.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, staring down at my hand that was trying its hardest to escape his.

  “Is it me, or are people giving us strange looks?”

  Tucker sighed. “I don’t care what kind of looks anyone is giving us. I’m trying to make you comfortable. I know I would hate to be left alone at some party where I knew no one.”

  I disagreed. He was the biggest flirt, the most ambitious person I ever met, and I had never seen him look remotely embarrassed or uncertain about anything.

  “I’ll show you the house. Maybe that will ease you into all of this.” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing it gently. This soothed me and settled my nerves. If he wasn’t bothered by it, then I wouldn’t be either, I told myself.

  A waiter wearing a black tux and white gloves passed us, carrying a silver platter with elegant glasses. Tucker stopped him, taking two off the tray and handing me one. I studied the bubbly beverage, worried it was something I shouldn’t be drinking.

  “It’s harmless, Lourdes calls it summer punch,” Tucker said, taking a swig. I gave it a sniff before bringing it to my lips. The sweet taste of raspberry stung my tongue pleasantly. Whatever it was, it was delicious.

  “Who is Lourdes?” I asked, following him into the house. I clutched my glass, careful not to spill it as we entered into a hallway.

  Tucker shut the door, taking his shoes off before he stepped onto the plush wine-colored carpet. A large staircase with the same carpet and an elegant wooden banister took us up to an amazing hallway. Family portraits hung on nearly every wall. Potted plants on neat little tables placed at each window. There was even a golden statue of some sort of dog in one corner.

  “It’s beautiful, Tucker,” I told him. I stared at the family photos. Tucker, and who I assumed was his father, were wearing matching sweaters, the photo was sepia and that just made it even fancier. A large German Sheppard perched at his father’s feet. And when I concentrated a little longer, I realized the woman staring back at me with the big smile was the woman that had given me the strange look downstairs.

  “That’s your stepmom?” I asked, pointing at the woman staring back at me. Her perfectly smooth hair and square chin staring back at me. She was polished and tan and hardly looked like a step mother of any kind. She was young.

  “Yeah, Dad likes them young. And Anita likes them loaded.” He laughed. Tucker opened the first door on the left. He flipped on a light. I stared around at all the glass cases that housed baseballs and autographed baseball bats.

  “My dad’s prized possessions,” Tucker said, running a hand over one of the stands. The room had to be worth more than our whole house and everything in it. I eyed a baseball mitt on a little metal stand.

  “Wow, this is pretty impressive.” I slowly was growing less uncomfortable with being at the party. Tucker turned the light off and shut the door. He opened up the next door.

  “This is my room,” he said, shutting the door behind us. I took a long sip of my drink. Dark wood, blues and greens decorated the walls, floors and bedding. A large, impressive wooden desk sat against one wall that looked more like something a CEO would use than a kid in high school. His room was neat, with a place for everything in it.

  Tucker turned the knob on his stereo and “The White Stripes” filled the room, the stereo’s lights rising and falling with the beat of the song. He took my glass, setting it on his dresser.

  “You look amazing,” he said, staring down at me.

  I smiled quickly. “So do you.”

  “I can’t get my mind off of you, Hope,” he admitted.

  I raised an eyebrow and swallowed hard. “Why’s that, Tucker?” I turned away, pretending to look at his collage of pictures.

  “You’re so genuine. Nothing like the fake girls at Ashwilder. You act like a real person.” He made my heart flutter with his kind words. I liked hearing them.

  “Well, thanks,” I said. I couldn’t help but notice all the girls hanging all over Tucker in his pictures. It made it hard to believe he thought of me as anything special.

  “And you’re really pretty. No one looks like you around here.” I could feel him behind me.

  “A lot of blondes around here,” I said, trying to inject a little humor into the moment. Tucker pushed my hair away from my eyes.

  “I really want to kiss you,” he said.

  I bit my lip, not sure if that was such a great idea. Tucker and Slade had wanted to do a lot of kissing lately. And I was beginning to enjoy it a little too much.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Tucker dipped his head down, finding my lips quickly. He immediately backed me up until we met his bed. I stiffened as we fell down onto it, his hands pulling my dress down.

  I broke away from his kiss. “Tucker, no, I don’t want to be doing this.” I pushed into his chest, getting free.

  “I’m sorry.” He dropped his head in his hands.

  I pulled my straps up. “I’m not upset. You shouldn’t be either. I just don’t want to do anything either of us regrets.” I rubbed his back, offering comfort.

  “I wouldn’t regret anything. Why do you think you would regret it?” He stared at me curiously.

  “Because to me that’s a big deal. Maybe not to you.” I didn’t want to sound harsh, but I also didn’t want to sound amateur. So I went with harsh.

  “Shh… I respect you. And I think it’s great, don’t worry about it. I’ll settle for a kiss.” He leaned in, softly kissing my lips, his hand running up my arm. He turned it up a notch by softly pushing back my hair and grazing my neck with his lips. My breath caught as his breath hit my skin. Intensity built more and more and I gave in, moving a little closer, kissing a little more forcefully.

  Tucker pulled his shirt off. He smiled for a brief second before giving me another kiss, this time on the collarbone. I ran my hand through his hair, my head filled with uncertainty as his hand crept up my dress. That’s when my conscience slapped me in the face as his fingers met up with my inner thigh.

  I gasped. “We have to go back down stairs.” I pressed my head into his chest in agitation, taking in slow breaths.

  Tucker sat up. “Okay. Whatever you feel like doing.”

  As we both gathered our morals there was a loud tapping on the door. Tucker jumped nearly to the ceiling, throwing his shirt on and tucking it back into his pants, he hurriedly adjusted himself. I fixed my hair, staring down at my dress to be sure everything was in place. I knew we hadn’t gone too far, but whoever was at the door might not think so.

  “Dad,” Tucker said as he pulled the door open. The man from the photos stepped into the room dressed in a gray business suit and green tie that offset dark, almost black hair.

  “People were beginning to wonder where you went,” he said, looking around the room.

  Tucker turned off his stereo. I stayed where I was. “I was giving Hope a tour of the house,” Tucker explained. He stood next to me. “Dad, this is Hope. Hope, this is my father, Everett Sinclair.”

  Everett’s intense, light brown eyes stared me down, his expression frustrated. He rubbed at his chin before extending his hand.

  “Are we sure it was a tour and not a trip into your bed?” He let out a chuckle. But it wasn’t one of those fun, airy ones. “Nice to meet you, Hope. I hear you and your family just moved in down at the other end of the shore.”

  I nodded while my hand stayed in his cold grasp.

  “She’s also at Ashwilder,” Tucker pointed out. His dad gave a nod, really concentrating on his next thought.

  “My son wasn’t overstepping his bounds now was he?” he asked, squeezing
my hand just a little, his eyes taking on a flicker of life as he stared at me.

  Tucker let out a nervous laugh. It wasn’t like I was going to confess that he was.

  “No, of course not,” I said with a small smile. “We were just listening to some music.”

  “That would be a first. And I have to say, I am a bit disappointed he wasn’t, you’re a beautiful girl. Exceptional.” He kissed the top of my hand, the familiar smell of alcohol on his breath. I pulled away, weirded out. “Tucker, I expect you down stairs.” He headed out of Tucker’s bedroom.

  I spun around to Tucker. “What the heck?”

  Tucker rubbed at his neck. “Don’t think twice about it. When he drinks his scotch he tends to run at the mouth. It’s fairly normal.”

  I didn’t see anything normal about a man who was supposed to be a mayor tossing around crude comments to young girls. To think about it made me even more uncomfortable.

  Tucker and I made our way back downstairs where the music grew a little louder and a lot quicker. Drinks were flowing and older couples, probably parents, were cutting a rug. Kids were gathered in many groups along the outside of the dance floor.

  Tucker and I joined Campbell, Lydia and Jesse in their own group, along with a couple of the guys Tucker always hung around with. Lydia stared me down.

  “You look great, Hope,” Campbell said sweetly. She was wearing a simple navy blue dress. But it looked lovely on her, I thought.

  Lydia rolled her eyes yet again. She looped her arm around Jesse. “Pink’s a little too girly for me,” she muttered.

  Tucker threw an arm around my shoulders. “Red suits you, Lydia. Totally fits the kind of person you are. Trashy.”

  Jesse shot him a bothered look, but he didn’t say anything. Lydia crossed her arms, pouting like a child. She didn’t know what to say to retaliate for once. She hurried off, scoring more drinks for herself and Jesse. Campbell laughed at her defeated exit. “That was great, it’s not often someone puts little Miss Lydia in her place.”

  Tucker nodded. “Glad to be of service.” He took two more drinks from the passing tray, handing me one.

  Campbell accepted the other, taking a swig. “I can’t believe your parents allow everyone to drink alcohol.”

  I sniffed at my drink again. Tucker sighed. “There’s barely any in these, I’ve told you all this before.”

  Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, Tucker’s stepmom came stalking over to us. Her body was poured into a tight fitting black dress, a diamond necklace draped across her bosom, and several rings on her fingers. Several men’s stares gravitated to her as they danced with their wives.

  “Hi, Mrs. Sinclair,” Lydia said, joining us again. She gave her a lazy smile. “Hi, Lydia. Hope you’re enjoying the party.”

  “It’s amazing, like always,” Lydia chirped.

  “Tucker, your father wants to speak with you,” Anita said. Tucker took my arm for me to follow. Anita placed a hand over my wrist, stopping him. “Your little friend can stay right here while you talk to your father.”

  Tucker gave me a look. I nodded that I would be just fine. And then he left.

  “Hope is it?” she asked me, her posture stiff as she waited for me to answer her. She downed her martini, slapping it down on the passing tray, causing the waiter to nearly drop everything he was carrying. He gave a brief pause, letting her steal another drink.

  “Yes, Hope,” I said with a nod.

  “How are you enjoying running around with Tucker? Is the idea his father is loaded what has you so into him?” she hissed.

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Not at all. I think you may have me confused with someone else.” Like you, I thought to myself.

  “You’re fucking hilarious,” she said dryly. Her eyes bore holes through my dress as she glared at me. “Tucker loves the attention. He loves being liked by everyone. But don’t think you can pretend to like him because you want a little piece of this fancy life.”

  My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe she was attacking me so rudely. “I don’t even like him like that,” I stammered.

  “Right, just like everyone else, huh?” She stepped forward, her feet stepping on mine. Her body up close and personal. I could smell the scent of her perfume. “Keep. Your. Hands. Off. I know your kind. Do not touch anything in any of my houses. I don’t like trash, and I don’t care if your father is a drunk, I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” I snapped. I backed up, crossing my arms before I hauled off and punched her.

  “My husband’s the fucking mayor, I know everything about everyone. I have more control in everyone’s pathetic lives here in Cherry than you think. Bitch.” She pushed into me, making her exit before Tucker arrived.

  I was near tears. Never in my life had anyone been so mean and hostile with me. And it hurt. Lydia had already backed off as well as Campbell. It seemed they knew when to stay out of sight around here.

  I quickly dabbed at my eyes, stopping any tears from falling. I didn’t want to look like some pathetic girl who couldn’t handle some gold digger with serious territorial issues.

  “Honey, are you okay?” An older woman asked. I shook my head, pushing through the crowd, trying to find a good spot to pull it back together. I bumped into someone, looking up. It was Tucker’s dad.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, taking me by the arm.

  “I just need a few seconds.” I sniffled. He helped me break free from the party.

  Pulling out a seat, he motioned me to sit down. “You could tell me what’s bothering you if you like.” He took a seat, swirling his drink in his hand.

  I crossed my legs, looking out at the water. I didn’t want to talk to him, he gave me the creeps. And we were practically alone on the side of his lavish estate.

  “Here, have a drink, it will relax you.” He offered his glass.

  “No, I’m just fine, I have my own,” I said, shaking my glass in front of me.

  “Looks like you could use a refill.” He took my glass and left.

  I sighed. I just wanted to go home. I obviously did not fit in here. And no one was willing to try and get to know me. Tucker and I were just two different people. And where was he? Obviously not with his father, because his father was with me.

  “Here we are.” Everett had returned with another glass of Summer Punch.

  I didn’t smile or say thank you. I just took a long sip trying to show him I was grateful. The liquid was a little bitter, I noticed, as it pooled in the pit of my stomach. More than before. I took another sip, trying to figure out if I was just me imagining things, sucking in a little more to make sure. I finally realized it was quite different, and sat it down at my feet.

  “Feeling better?” Everett asked.

  “I really just want to go home. So thanks for everything. I am going to head out.” I stood up, heading down to the water. My head suddenly began feeling cloudy. I shook away the weird feeling, holding my skirt in place as the wind blew. I grew increasingly dizzy and couldn’t help from stumbling. The waves crashing were just about the only thing still registering in my ears.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I tried desperately to take each step toward my house. But it was still quite a ways a way and my feet were so heavy, as if I were wearing cement boots. I wondered if I should turn back and ask someone for help.

  Cold water hit my feet. I had stumbled close to the water without even knowing it. My vision blurry, I barely could see what was in front of me, but I could feel the water against my shins now.

  “Oh, I think someone’s had too much to drink,” a garbled voice said. I felt someone grip my arm a little too forcefully, and then I felt the sand scraping against my legs and arm. Someone was dragging me.

  “Stop!” I screamed out.

  I tried prying their hand loose, my body weak and hardly able to function the way that I wanted it to. My head hit the ground, and I rolled to my side, doing my best to crawl across the sand, bits of stone
and seashells digging into my knees as I scrambled to get away. But someone was trying their best to catch me over and over again.

  The last thing in my memory was my head slamming against the ground, and water filling my ears, and the cold waves repeatedly hitting the side of my face and body. I stared up at the sky, my vision going dark.

  Witness

  My head bounced lazily, my limbs were weights. The breeze and rain water hit my skin in slow, lazy drops. But I never opened my eyes. I was in a semi-conscious state, too bogged down by whatever flowed through my veins. Hundreds of jerky footsteps later, I was comfortable again.

  “Shh,” another garbled voice told me. My body fell limply into a soft, pillowy form. I drifted in and out of consciousness.

  The continual shush was the only thing I remembered before I woke up in the hospital bed with my Dad and Nona staring at me in horror. Their expressions were ones I would remember forever.

  “Honey,” Dad said, his face full of agony.

  Nona shot up from the hospital chair, coming to my side. For once she wasn’t her usual batty self. She placed a hand on my forehead. “We were worried about you,” she whispered, smoothing my hair.

  I looked around the room, totally out of it. “How did I get here?” I whispered, hardly able to speak, my throat dry and sore.

  “Take it easy, darling,” Nona said, coaxing me into silence.

  Dad raked his hands through his hair. He looked pained. I tried to remember what happened. My memory only accounted for parts of the morning, the spaghetti I ate with Slade and Tucker’s stepmom and her horrible insults.

  A nurse tapped on the door, letting herself into the room. She was a burly woman, dressed all in white. “I want to take her vitals. Could you two step outside?” She stared at me as Nona and Dad left the room.

  I allowed her to take my blood pressure.

  “Do you feel any better?”

  I lifted my head to look at her. “I suppose so. I feel really groggy.”

  “That’s to be expected,” she said with a nod. She unstrapped the cuff, placing it on the table. Before I could ask what that was, she popped a thermometer in my mouth.