Secrets of the Harts

Helen was afraid to open the Aston Martin.

She knew that Dylan Fuller wasn’t as bad as his father, that he wouldn’t hide drugs or any kind of arms in the car. But she also knew that the apple never fell too far from the tree. Though Dylan had moments where he seemed almost human, he was not as generous as to donate an Aston Martin for the charity auction, especially since both father and son had never paid much attention to the auction.

Helen had usually ended attending that alone, which was perfectly fine with her. Though Sean Fuller had been one of the most important donors of the homeless shelter, he merely treated it as a convenient cover for hiding whatever he needed to from the law and then passing the item to his subordinates. It was peculiar that Dylan would suddenly pretend to care so much.

And what about that girl who was with him?

She seemed awfully certain that she had nothing to worry about when it came to Dylan. Hell, she was probably in love with him. The Fullers could be very charming and they were extremely rich. To a girl who didn’t even understand the Fullers’ connections, Dylan probably seemed like an excellent boyfriend.

What made things even more suspicious was that he had brought her here, when both father and son had never brought their other halves with them before. They preferred to keep this place a complete secret. There was no way Dylan would have rebelled against his father like that, no matter what rumours she had heard.

There was something fishy going on and it was past time that she stopped pretending to be oblivious to it.

Helen’s hand trembled as she forced herself to open the passenger door, get in and open the glove compartment. There was only a non-descript brown envelope,addressed to Sean Fuller, which she opened cautiously, careful not to tear it.

It was a piece of plain paper, with only three words on it.

I have her.
***
I fiddled with my bracelet uneasily, trying not to read too much into what Helen had said before, but failed. There was not much to hold my attention to, the city seemed clear and open, with very few spots for snipers. So there wasn’t anything I could think of, aside from what Helen had been trying to warn me about.

“Why did you donate the Aston Martin?”
A corner of his lips quirked up and he relaxed. “St. Jude’s obviously needs it.”

It seemed to me that he had been expecting another kind of question, something difficult.

“I didn’t think that you’d be so generous.”
“Well, Helen did date my father before. I suppose I owe her something for putting up with him.”
“The truth would be nice.”

He stopped, looking impressed with me. “Princess, you’re getting better at reading me.”

That wasn’t exactly true. It was just that Dylan had slipped up—I hadn’t even asked how Helen knew his father and yet he was providing an easy explanation for it. It was the mark of the guilty. Only, what was he guilty about? “So, really, why did you donate the car?”

“My father helped to open the shelter and so, he helped to name it. St. Jude’s the Patron Saint of Lost Causes. I don’t think Helen was too pleased with that name. So I guess I’m making some amends for him. God knows I do that for him all the time.” He started again, still heading east of St. Jude’s.

“What do you mean?”

Dylan shrugged but didn’t explain.

“So, how did you get the Aston Martin anyway?”

“You’re very curious today. But its okay, you can ask me anything now. I’ll ask you whatever I want to know later.” He glanced at me, probably noting the way I tried to hide my shock, and continued, “Dad’s rich. He buys stuff when he’s bored. He got me the car for my birthday this year but I can’t go anywhere with it when I’m stuck in school. So I figured I might as well donate it to someone who needs it more. And before you ask how it got to Macpherson Lane, princess, it’s there because I asked one of my friends to drop it off there, figured it would be safe enough.”

The name princess seemed to really have stuck. I had to find some way to stop it but I could think about that later, especially since Dylan stopped so suddenly that I nearly tripped over him.

“Here we are!”
I stared incredulously at what looked like an outdoor skating rink, how empty it was, and then looked at his cheerful expression. “We’re going skating? Is the ice even thick enough?”
“I don’t know. We could try.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Have you noticed that you’re very dramatic when you’re angry? It’s kind of cute, actually.”

He was right, which really annoyed me. Christina really shouldn’t be like this. So, I blew a breath out of my mouth, trying to sound logical when I said, “Don’t psychoanalyze me. And really, do you even have skates now?”

Dylan smiled. “Wait here for me; I’ll go buy them.”

I watched him as he ran away, too stupefied to tell him that even if he did manage to buy a pair, I didn’t know how to skate. I had never learnt.

He returned a few moments later, carrying two pairs of skates. “I think this should be around your size.”

Still in shock, I put on the skates. They were a little bit big but otherwise, seemed alright. I wouldn’t have known in any case.

“Are you ready?” asked Dylan, looking perfectly comfortable.

“I-I don’t know how to skate.”

He smiled; the most sincere I had ever seen him. “I can tell. You look very awkward. It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”

I would’ve thought that Dylan would be an impatient, irritating teacher but he wasn’t. In fact, he seemed very patient and considerate, even holding my hands as though I was a small child as he skated backwards to guide me along. I really wasn’t good at skating, so much so that I fell many, many times.

I knew that those bruises would hurt later on, but right now, I felt surprisingly happy. Of course, I remembered that this was the same Dylan that Helen was wary of, the same one who annoyed me so many times. But I also knew that out of everyone, it was Dylan who made me feel so at ease and who was making me smile now.

I just didn’t know why.