Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) by Ilsa Madden-Mills Read Free Book Online

carjacking.” I took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, remembering the fallout from that day. “I saw it happen. I—I was on the porch waving goodbye just as they pulled out. This guy came running up—got in the car with them … and killed them.” My throat got full, and I lifted my hands and scrubbed my face. “Sorry—for getting emotional. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said, her face softening. “I had no idea.”
    I nodded. “It was a hard time for my family, and we had some lean years until my brother Leo made money in gym ownership.”
    “Your story is similar to some of the kids here, Mr. Tate, except you’re rich and famous now.” She smiled. “Why do you think you’d enjoy helping?”
    I cleared my throat, anxious to make a good impression. “People assume I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, but that’s not the case. My brother gave up his own music career to stay with me. I remember hating him sometimes, you know, because he wasn’t my mom or dad—or because all he could cook was popcorn and pizza.” I laughed at those memories. “But I wouldn’t be the person I am if it wasn’t for him.”
    She gave me a considering look, mulling me over. “There’s nothing like family. You’re luckier than most.”
    “Yes.”
    She let out a sigh. “The truth is we’re selective about who comes in to work with our kids, but I like your story—and your sincerity. I also think the kids would love to hear you speak to them—maybe play a song. We’ve had a few musicians come in for little concerts, mostly classical, so you’d be quite the treat.”
    “I’d be honored.” An idea struck. “Maybe I could teach some classes on how to play the guitar—kinda like my dad taught me. Sorry if I’m being presumptuous, I’m not even a real teacher, but I think I’d be good.” I leaned forward and smiled broadly. “I do have a sparkling personality, Mrs. Smythe.”
    She let out a laugh and blushed. Score.
    I settled back. “Or, if you just need a volunteer to work the lunch line one day or clean the hallways, I’d be proud to do whatever you need.” Truth.
    She tapped her fingers on the desk. “Just so you know, we don’t cater to the media here. No reporters are allowed inside our facility and we don’t link our names with celebrities. Whatever work you do here will be confidential.”
    I nodded. I got what she was saying. “I don’t have an ulterior motive for this. I can assure you, this isn’t about me putting on a show or getting attention. This is for me alone. I could have been one of those kids.”
    She seemed to come to a decision about me and stood. “Great. I’ll give our calendar a look and see where we can fit you in. No doubt, you’re going to cause quite a stir here. I’ll call you and let you know.”
    We shook hands and for the first time in a long time, maybe since I’d left Dallas behind all those years ago, I felt like I was home . I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what stirred my heart—maybe it was holding Violin Girl’s hand or maybe it was knowing that I was doing something worthwhile that wasn’t about me .
    Whatever it was, it felt damn good.
     

     
    A FEW DAYS later, I woke up at one in the morning.
    Violin Girl was on my mind. Constantly. She hadn’t played for me since the ice cream fiasco, and frustration rode me. I’d spent three wasted nights out on the patio waiting for her to appear. Spider had even tried to get me to go clubbing with him and Mila, but I’d stayed home. Blair had insisted I take her to dinner, but I’d made up an excuse about working on some music. I was obsessed with hearing her play. Seeing her.
    I thought back to the ice cream shop. There was no doubt Violin Girl had been angry with me when she stomped out. The question was—why? Was it because she was attracted to me and was jealous of Blair? Like me, did she feel the current between us—as if some invisible, electric