Stepbrother Thief(30)
I reach over and grab another file, finding Cliff's papers—sorry, Ivan's—and Solène's. Her new name is Giselle, apparently. Fitting, but … “Her last name is the same as mine,” I say, flipping between Cliff's documents and my own. His new last name is Bernard.
“Yeah, about that.” Aveline sits down and pushes the papers towards me, dunking her granola bar in her coffee. “With the age difference between him and her, it was hard for me to find a suitable match. It was much easier to call you her mom and be done with it.”
My throat closes up.
“You know, the strangest thing came up when I was working last night,” Aveline begins and I feel my head start to spin. “I was going through your old docs, wiping them from the system, when I happened upon something.”
“Bonjour.” Cliff's cheerful voice breaks through the tension and pulls me up for air, drawing my attention to the archway into the kitchen. “How are you lovely ladies faring this morning?” I smile at my stepfather and curl my fingers around the files. How is he going to react when he sees this?
“Fine,” I say, even though I feel anything but fine. “Did you sleep well?”
“Regina Elaine Corbair,” Cliff says, putting his hands on his hips and looking me over. “You look anything but fine.” I narrow my eyes at him and glance over at Aveline. She doesn't say anything, just leans back in her chair and shoves the last of the granola bar into her mouth.
“Got our new names today,” I tell him, standing up and passing the files over. I get myself yet another cup of coffee and drink it down like it's a shot of vodka. When I'm done, I slam the cup on the counter and gaze out the window at the trees separating Gill's house from the neighbors. After a minute, Cliff comes up behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing tight, just like he always did for Gill, a comforting gesture.
“It'll be okay, Regi,” he tells me as I stare dry eyed out the window and wish for a moment that I was anywhere but here. “Maybe … it's about time all of this came up?” I take a shuddering breath.
“No,” I tell him, and I know he'll respect my wishes on this. “It isn't time until Gill opens his eyes and looks.” I turn around and face Cliff. “All he has to do is look.”
True to his word, Gill pops in and out of the house during the day, but I don't talk to him, hardly even glance his way as he trudges in, tracking the floor with mud from his boots. Dressed in my T-shirt from yesterday and a pair of designer leggings, I lounge on the couch and scroll through movies on Netflix, looking for the most horrific, gruesome one I can find. The worse the movie is, the better I feel about my own life. A coping mechanism, I know, but my past is catching up to me, trailing behind and breathing hot against my neck; I could use a distraction.
“You can call me Ave, if that'll make you feel better,” Aveline tells me, appearing in the darkened living room. I closed all of the curtains, blocking out the beautiful golden sunshine and the view of the lake. It's not a pity thing, just a practical one. Who watches horror movies in bright, glaring sunlight?
“And how will that work?” I ask, wondering if Solène and Cliff are still upstairs reading. They're both literature buffs, spending countless hours in silence together, rehashing old classics and brand new bestsellers both. Cliff is a good dad, a perfect one, really. I know he doubts himself because of what happened with Gill and his mom, but his son chose to live with her, and he was trying to be respectful. It was a mistake, yes, but a forgivable one; he had no clue she'd drop off the deep end like that.
“If you call me Ave, you can pretend we're friends and then sharing secrets together will be no big deal.” A smile twitches at the edge of my lips as she sits down next to me and passes over a glass of red wine. “It's not some fancy French boudoir or whatever, but it'll do the trick.”
“I think you mean Bordeaux?” I ask, but Aveline waves my words away, nodding her chin at the TV. I notice she doesn't have a glass of wine in her own hand. She must take this whole no drinking on the job thing very seriously.
“What are you watching?” she asks, her eyes scanning the curtains, her arms stretched out alongside her, draped over the back of the couch. Even now, when she's trying to look relaxed, Aveline looks tense to me. “Been hearing a lot of screams in here.”
“Horror,” I tell her, twisting the remote around in my hand. “Makes me feel better.”
“About what?” Aveline asks, and I feel my walls cracking, my shield breaking. I want to talk to someone about all of this, tell them everything. Right now, she's all I've got. That, and I kind of … like her. Besides, Gill trusts her with our lives, so why can't I spill some of my secrets?