The Secret Sister by M. DeLuca (classic novels for teens txt) 📕

seat, ready to be properly taken care of for the first time in my life. My eyes were fixed on the road ahead. I wouldn’t look back at my old life. Ever. Now was all that mattered.

Once the car pulled away from the curb, Guy reached his hand across the seat and took my hand in his.

“Happy?” he asked.

I nodded. I wasn’t lying this time. I really meant it. “But it’s all happened so fast. Maybe too fast?” I glanced up at him, trying to catch some weird flicker of malice, some lying twitch of his eyes. But it was too late for second thoughts. I was already homeless.

“You have to grab happiness when it comes along. Don’t deliberate too much. If it feels good, go with it.”

“Is that what you tell all your girlfriends?”

“I haven’t had that many,” he said, an edge creeping into his voice. My insides scrunched a little. “You’ll soon discover I’m not that kind of guy.”

The sun etched his profile in gold. I hadn’t realized how handsome he really was. “Then what kind of guy are you?”

“I can be impulsive.” He turned and smiled a closed mouth kind of smile. “But don’t worry. I don’t go asking every girl I meet to move in with me.”

“You mean there isn’t a secret drawer full of toothbrushes and tampons for last minute overnight stays?”

He shook his head, still grinning. “Promise. Check my dresser.”

“Why me, then?”

“I have this feeling about you. You looked at me like you really wanted me and I like that.”

If only he knew the truth, I thought, staring so hard at his profile it blurred against the passing trees.

He placed my suitcases just inside the front door of the condo. Against the gleaming woodwork and furniture, they appeared cheap and shabby. I had the strongest feeling they’d be put away in a closet and never opened. That the next time I checked they’d have mysteriously disappeared. That I had to shake off every bit of my old life to become part of his.

He took my hand and pulled me towards the bathroom. I’d never showered in anything more luxurious than a plain, white tub shower with a plastic curtain, so Guy’s bathroom was a revelation. A haven of oyster-colored marble with a glassed-in shower complete with dual rain showerheads and a massive jetted tub lined with jewel-colored bottles.

He ran a bath, undressed me and once I was immersed in the scented water, he soaped my body down from head to toe and gently washed my hair, kneading at my scalp with expert fingers. I lay back as if receiving a ritual baptism. I’d never felt such gentleness – had no memory of anyone touching me so tenderly, even as a child.

Once my hair was rinsed, I opened my eyes. He was watching me. Suddenly I felt too naked and vulnerable. I tensed up and hugged my knees to my chest.

“You can trust me,” he said. “I’m a gentle person.”

I slid down into the bubbles. “That’s rare in my experience.”

“Mine too,” he said, the corners of his lips drooping slightly. I realized then how little we knew about each other. How easily I’d assumed he’d lived a carefree life.

He rubbed me down with a towel that felt weightless as a carpet of feathers. Once I was warm and tingly, he led me into the bedroom.

“A surprise for you,” he said, pointing at the bed. “Think of this as a welcome gift.”

The bed was covered with boxes and bags from stores I’d looked at from the outside but never set foot in. The ones with bored-looking security guards in navy blazers stationed at the door. Lingerie, cashmere sweaters, silk camisoles and crisp cotton shirts. Pants, skirts, dresses, a pair of tan leather boots and finally a glorious coat in soft camel wool. My hands trembled as I sorted through the pile. There were no sale stickers, no red clearance tags. I could barely imagine what he’d paid for them. I clutched the coat to my face and tears filled my eyes though I tried to hold them back.

“You said you liked to shop. Well so do I.” He watched me closely, chewing his bottom lip.

“I can’t accept all this. It’s too much.” But I was lying. An army of bodybuilders couldn’t have pried these gorgeous garments from my clutches.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. “I loved buying these things for you. Just indulge me. Put the coat on. See if I guessed your size right.”

The coat slid on like a second skin, its slippery satin lining chilling my body.

“It’s perfect,” I said, tying the belt and twirling around. “I love it.” I threw my arms round his neck and nuzzled into the citrusy scent of his neck.

“You’ll always be safe here,” he whispered as the coat slipped from my shoulders.

At first, going back to work was like crossing from heaven to hell. Mornings in the condo I’d struggle from warm, silky sheets into the glorious shower. Guy’s citrusy cologne combined with the bitter tang of espresso carried me through into the muted lighting of the kitchen and the view of the waking city with its blinking streetlights under a gray dawn sky.

We’d sip coffee, nibble on fresh fruit, bagels and smoked salmon and chat about work. He loved my stories about the kids and the crazy things they wrote in their journals. Made me promise to bring a couple home so we could look at them together. Then I’d head off from the underground parking lot past the renovated warehouses, chic artisan bakeries and brew houses, until I crossed an invisible line into grim streets lined with tenements, laundromats, pawnbrokers and beer stores, which led to the school whose corridors lingered with the stink of mildew and damp paper.

The first morning after I moved in with Guy, Sabrina zoned in on me, her eyes all over the camel coat. I’d taken care not to use all of the new clothes, but I couldn’t resist