Chapter 2

Talia's Pov

Dinner with the Carter family wasn’t exactly how I pictured spending my Saturday night. 

When Deej told me to go, I almost said no. But she said, “At least you’ll know if Maxton knows about the wedding. If he does, you can work together to stop it.”

Good logic, though I hate the idea of working with him. But at this point, whatever it takes to fix this nightmare.

I picked simple clothes; black jeans, pale blue blouse, messy bun. No effort, no care. I wasn’t there to impress anyone, especially not Mr. Carter.

I texted Deej and Chris before leaving. “Heading to the Carter house. If I don’t make it out alive, tell my coach I died skating.”

When I arrived at the Carter estate, my jaw almost dropped. The place looked like it belonged to royalty; fancy lights, servants everywhere, and everything you’d expect in a king’s palace.

I was escorted to the dining table with my mom, where Mr. Carter was already seated. The moment he saw us, he smiled and stood up.

He pulled my mom into a hug and kissed her, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes in disgust. This was so hard to watch.

“I am glad you decided to join us this Saturday,” Mr. Carter said, reaching out for a handshake.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” I muttered, while my mom shot me a deadly look. I stiffened, forced an awkward smile, and shook his hand.

“Please, sit,” he said, and I sank into my chair, trying to relax.

“I never expected you to look so radiant,” he said warmly.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I just threw this on. I was going skating later.”

He smiled. “Maxton’s the same way with hockey. Always training.”

Ugh, Maxton. That name was alone to ruin my appetite. 

“Yeah, I know..” I trailed off as my eyes wandered, scanning the room.

“Maxton isn’t available,” Mr. Carter said, his voice calm, amused even. “He had a game and he won't be home till late.”

I blinked. “I wasn’t looking for him.”

He chuckled like he didn’t believe a word. I chuckled too, nervously, and reached for the water glass in front of me.

Dinner was awkward. The clinking of silverware, sweet talks that didn't involve Maxton, and my mom smiling way too much. I barely touched my plate. 

After what felt like hours of conversation I didn’t want any part of, Mr. Carter leaned slightly toward me. “ Talia, I want you to know… you don’t have to worry about Maxton. He’s barely home unless he needs sleep. You two won’t have to cross paths. And if you do, I hope you get along. For the sake of the love I have for your mother.”

“What?” I asked confused glances between my mom and Mr Carter “what do you mean?” 

“What he means,” she said, smiling, “is when you move in. Which is very soon, you…”

My fork dropped with a loud clink.

“Move in?” I croaked.

She smiled, all sunshine and betrayal. “Yes, sweetheart. We are all going to live together soon.”

Yup, my life is officially over..

I forced a grin that probably looked more like a grimace. “Excuse me,” I mumbled and slipped out before I exploded. Thankfully my mom didn’t stop me.

Living under the same roof with him? No way. I didn’t care how big the mansion was. I didn’t want to wake up to the sound of his voice or his hockey bag thrown across the hallway. I didn’t want him to think I wanted to be near him.

I stepped outside into the evening breeze, pressing my fingers against my temples. This couldn’t be real.

I was busy rampaging around the garden when I saw a figure bumped in the dark. All bloody and rough. 

Maxton?

His shirt was torn and his face bruised, one eye beginning to swell. His lip had a faint cut, and he walked with a slight limp.

He looked like he had just been hit by a truck, or five.

“Maxton?” I said, eyes wide.

He squinted. “Talia? What are you doing here?” he suddenly had a look of realization before saying “oh that stupid dinner is today?”

Uhm, does that mean he knows? Of course he does.

I was already annoyed, and talking to Maxton would only make things worse. I tried to get out of there as fast as I could.

He grabbed my wrist. I froze, glaring at him.

“Let go of my hand!” I yelled. “And why do you look like a crime scene?” I asked.

“Car crash,” he lied smoothly, wincing.

“Liar,” I muttered, crouching slightly to get a better look at his side. Bruising, not from a crash, he got into a fight. “You crawled home after a brawl?”

“I didn’t crawl. I limped.”

I rolled my eyes, before yanking my wrist free from his grip “You are such an idiot.”

“I won, though.”

“Congratulations, dumbass.” 

He laughed weakly, then winced again. “Help me get inside before my dad sees.”

“ And why should I help you?”

“Because,” he said, voice low, “you are already here, and I can barely walk.”

I groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“Yet you’re still standing here.”

I hated that he was right.

I threw his arm over my shoulder and half-dragged him inside through a back door, avoiding the staff. His weight was heavy, but I managed to get him upstairs to his room.

Once we got in, I dropped him on the bed.

“Go clean up,” I ordered. “You smell like sweat and poor choices.”

He smirked. “Missed you too.”

“I didn’t say that!”

He got up and disappeared into the bathroom. I took a breath, scanning his room; jerseys, trophies, posters. All ego and testosterone.

I didn’t know how long I stayed in his room, but I did, pacing around, scanning the place, and waiting for him to come out so we could talk about this damn couple about making our lives a living hell.

Then I heard the bathroom door open behind me. I turned and froze. Maxton was standing there, completely shirtless, looking like a damn Greek god, though I hated to admit it.

For a second, my brain just stopped working. His body was all hard lines and perfectly defined muscles, water dripping down his skin, each drop mocking me for staring.

I spun around so fast I nearly tripped and yelled “Are you serious right now? Put on a shirt!”

“Shut up, I don’t want my dad to know I am back yet”

“I don’t care, wear something!”

He scoffed, his tone casual, like he was talking about the weather. “Relax, figure queen. You act like you have never seen a perfect body before.”

I rolled my eyes at how arrogant he sounded. “Perfect body, my foot. More like an ego wrapped in abs.” I stared hard at the wall, refusing to look back, terrified I might actually stare again.

He laughed quietly. “Oh, so you were looking?”

“I wasn’t,” I said quickly, trying to sound confident, but my voice cracked just a little.

“Oh really?” His footsteps creaked closer. “So you always stare for that long?”

I sighed and finally turned around, a mistake. He was now standing right in front of me, barely a foot away.

I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze. My eyes betrayed me as they traveled down his chest, it was hard, sculpted, and glistening as water slid down his skin. My eyes caught the towel hanging low on his hips, the V line of his abs disappearing beneath it. Then came that nice smell of his; mint and intoxication.

He was grinning, wet hair falling over that annoyingly perfect face every girl at school drooled over. Not me though… right? Who was I kidding, he was gorgeous. But he would never hear that from me.

“Back up,” I said, though it came out more like a whisper than a command.

He tilted his head slightly. “You look nervous, Talia.”

“I’m disgusted.”

“Sure you are.” His grin softened. “You don’t have to look away just because I’m shirtless. I’m not going to bite.”

“You already do, every time you open your mouth, Maxton.”

He chuckled, and the sound did something weird to my stomach.

I grabbed the nearest book from his nightstand and threw it at him. “Get dressed before I march downstairs and tell your dad you are back. I’m sure he’d love to see all those bruises.”

He caught it easily, smirking. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you care.”

“Just put something on.”

He grinned wider, “Yes, step-sis.”