1.

Dedicated to Twoony, for helping me write Kade the country boy, because she writes awesome characters and books (seriously, check out her profile! ), and because she was the cool kid I would've admired but wouldn't dare to talk to in high school, haha!

**

"Kade, it's so wonderful to see you again!"

A beautiful woman with dark brown hair tied in a bun, and one of the warmest smiles I'd ever seen, came walking towards me with open arms.

After all the stories I'd heard about evil stepparents who hardly allowed the light of life in their stepchildren's eyes, she would never know how much of a relief that was. I hadn't been particularly worried Chiara Bruno lost her radiant smile in the time I hadn't seen her, but it'd been a while since her and Dad's wedding. The first and only occasion I'd talked with her.

I returned Chiara's smile and jutted my hand in her direction. "It's very nice to see you again, too."

"Aw, don't be a stranger, Kade. Come here."

The corners of Chiara's eyes crinkled as her smile widened. Ignoring my outstretched hand, she hugged me instead and pressed three kisses to my cheeks. I didn't mind. I went for the handshake to be polite, but it seemed that wasn't necessary.

"Alright, I won't be a stranger," I said with a grin. "Oh, and these are for you! Thank you for lettin' me stay at your and Dad's place for a while."

I offered Chiara the vase I'd been holding in my other hand. An arrangement of green leafy plants which would suit every home. Since I didn't know what Dad and Chiara's house looked like nowadays, I played it safe with colours.

Chiara placed a hand on her heart, touched, before accepting the gift. "Not at all. You're so welcome, Kade! Our house will always be a second home to you." She turned to my dad, who was standing next to her, and rubbed his shoulder. "He's still such a charmer! So well raised!"

Dad acknowledged Chiara's compliment with a curt nod and a restrained, close-lipped smile. Typical opposites attract at work. But the fact that Dad had smiled at all said enough. Usually his face was stern and unchanging, as if carved out of stone.

"Atticus!" Dad then called out, making one of the boys on the football field on our right look up. "Come here for a moment!"

The boy donned in full football attire, who I presumed to be Atticus, jogged our way. I'd heard of his existence, but I had missed him at the wedding. Apparently, he'd left right after the ceremony to attend a football bootcamp. He had some skill and hoped for a full scholarship when he was off to college next year.

"Kade, this is Atticus. Chiara's son," Dad introduced the boy once he was in earshot.

Like the character from To Kill a Mockingbird, I thought to myself. I didn't say it out loud, however, figuring Atticus probably got plenty of remarks about his name already. Again, I offered my hand for a handshake, fairly certain this boy didn't want three kisses like his mother.

Atticus reached for his helmet first, taking it off and clamping it under his arm. He then wiped his right hand on his pants, leaving a small dirt stain on the white fabric.

Atticus was good looking like his mom was beautiful. His dark brown hair clung to his forehead, flat from sweating and wearing a helmet. His brown skin tone was like his mother's but cooler. If I painted him, I'd have to add in more blue, while Chiara required more yellow and red. Then, green and brown, probably yellow, for his eyes.

"It's nice to meet you," I said when he finally took my hand.

"Yeah, you too," Atticus replied, surprisingly quietly for his size. He looked especially huge in the football clothes. His eyes darted away from my face when I smiled, and he let go of my hand.

"I'll finish my cool down and I will be ready to leave, Coach," he told Dad, before jogging back to the field.

I noticed a few of the other guys on the field shooting me glances. They were curious about their coach's son, I guessed. If they'd expected me to be a football star just because my dad was when he was in high school, I would have to disappoint them. My small belly, which I usually hid behind a wide shirt, showed I didn't spend nearly enough time at the gym. Not any time, actually. There were a few attempts at jogging, but none too fruitful.

Dad patted my shoulder. "Come," he said. "I'll quickly show you around the school while Atticus wraps up and showers. Then you can get some rest. You had a long trip."

"Thanks," I said, promptly yawning at the prospect of sleep. "That sounds great!"

Dad dismissed the football team after the cool down, and while Chiara went to the car, he showed me around my new school: Pinewood high. Dad pointed out the administration desk, where I'd need to go tomorrow to pick up my locker key, and the location of a few classrooms. I tried to commit all the information to memory, using artworks made by students, posters, and motivational quotes hanging on the walls as extra landmarks.

By the time dad and I made it to the car, Atticus was already sitting in the backseat. Dad took shotgun, and I slipped into the seat next to Atticus. Once we were all seated, Chiara started the car.

Dad cleared his throat. "How's your mom doin', by the way?"

"She's doin' good," I said, making eye contact with my dad in the rearview mirror "Just busy arranging movin'. There's a lot to think about, I suppose. She found a job at an office in the city, finally."

It hadn't been easy for Mom, deciding to move to the city. She loved the countryside and had never known any different. I had never known any different, either. But it was the only way to find a new job in her sector, design, after her old employer went bankrupt. There just wasn't enough work back home.

She almost didn't take a job offer because she was afraid I'd miss the beginning of the school year and things would be too messy for me, transferring in my senior year. I had assured her I'd be fine, and then Dad offered I could stay with him and his new wife and stepson for a while until she was able to move.

"I reckon it'll be a while before my new home is finished, though," I said, grinning. "I know Mom. She's going to spend forever on interior design."

Dad barely smiled back, but Chiara did. "Yes! It's so important that a house is cozy," she agreed. "I'm always telling Paul we need to spend more time and energy on making a home, but the living room walls are still as empty as ever."

Chiara teasingly elbowed my Dad, who did his best to look grumpy at being teased but failed because of his twitching mouth.

"If empty walls are the problem, I can definitely make some paintings to fill them up," I immediately offered.

"Oh yes, Paul said you were a painter," Chiara chirped, delighted. "That would be amazing! Homemade paintings are way more special than a replica. If it's not too much trouble."

I chuckled. "Of course not. I paint so much, even my proud Mom doesn't know where to hang 'em anymore."

"In that case, I'd absolutely love a painting of wild horses in nature in the living room. Could you make one?"

Chiara's enthusiasm was contagious and I could suddenly not wait to get started. "Yeah! I'll get right to it when we a—"

My sentence got stuck halfway and turned into a yawn. "Okay, maybe tomorrow," I joked, making Chiara laugh.

Even Dad chuckled too, seemingly pleased Chiara and I got along and were already bonding. It made me happy as well to see my dad so happy. But when there was movement in my peripheral vision, reminding me there was someone sitting next to me, I realised Atticus hadn't said a word yet.

He was staring out of his window, his body completely turned away from me. Maybe he was tired from football practice? I could imagine. I got tired of walking up a few flights of stairs sometimes, let alone running across a blisteringly hot field outside for two hours.

Maybe I was talking too much. Some people didn't like that. Since my conversation with Chiara was over, I followed Atticus' example for the rest of the ride, staring out of my window.

There was plenty to see. The landscape was completely different. There were so many houses and enormous buildings. So many flashing lights. So many people. It was overwhelming, and I was happy when Chiara drove us into a suburban neighbourhood and parked in front of a contemporary style reddish brown house.

"Here we are, Kade, home sweet home," she said cheerfully, opening her car door. "Atticus, Paul, help me with his luggage."

Literally nobody allowed me to carry any of my stuff, mostly because Chiara insisted I didn't because 'I had to be tired from the flight!' and both my dad and Atticus listened to her. Dad carried my big suitcase, Atticus had my art supplies bags, and Chiara took my backpack and the vase I'd given her, and opened the door for me.

"Thank you," I said, feeling like a broken radio because I kept thanking her and a little embarrassed because she insisted I entered the house first. And honestly, I could've carried my suitcase.

Once I stepped inside and looked around, I immediately established one fact: these people were not designers like my mom. She would've never allowed the coatrack's colour to mismatch with the carpet. She also wouldn't have allowed the walls to be this empty, nor use dark colours for a small hallway.

"Come on up, this way," Chiara said, beckoning me to the stairs. I followed her to the first floor with Atticus and my Dad behind me. We walked up two flights of stairs to the top floor, where Chiara opened the cream coloured door on the right.

Aside from a freshly made twin bed with white sheets, an unpolished (I guessed pinewood) closet, and a matching nightstand, the room was empty. They'd used laminate flooring, and the overall vibes I got was middle class hotel. Chiara, at least I presumed it was Chiara as Dad certainly wasn't the type, tried to make the room look more inviting by putting a little yellow flower on the nightstand.

"This is the guest room. I hope you will be comfortable here," Chiara said, stepping aside to let Dad and Atticus pass with my bags.

They both dropped off their cargo in my room, while I said 'thank you' for the millionth time.

"And, Kade, please ask if you need something," Chiara continued. "To me and Atticus, too. We want you to feel welcome."

Atticus nodded, seemingly more out of politeness and obligation than genuine interest like his mom.

"If you need anything, I'll be in my room," Atticus said, taking the first excuse to leave.

He walked out, and I heard the door next to mine open and close. His bedroom had to be the other attic room.

Chiara clasped her hands together. "Can I get you anything to drink, Kade? Or to eat?"

"Just a glass of water, please," I said. "I think I'll get some sleep. It's been a long trip and school starts early tomorrow."

"Right, of course." Chiara nodded understandingly. "I'll be right back with some water."

With a gruff 'sleep well', Dad followed after Chiara.

"Your son's such a lovely boy, I—" I caught Chiara saying to my dad on the second staircase before her voice faded so much I could no longer make out words.

She'd started gossiping about me just a little too soon, but it only made me sigh in relief and smile. I was off to a good second impression with my dad's new family.

Well, I'd made a good impression on his wife, at least.

I glanced at the wall separating mine and Atticus' rooms. My earlier conclusion was probably right: he was just tired from practice. I understood the feeling very well. I'd have to try harder to talk to him tomorrow when he was rested.

Letting myself fall back on my bed, I stared at the cream coloured ceiling. If my new city-classmates at school were even a little like Chiara, going to new school in my senior year wouldn't be all that bad.