I don't exactly have instincts to trust after they failed me phenomenally over the decision to try brussels sprouts. Not only do they taste disgusting, their scent lingered so strong I had to buy air freshener. They're worse than apples.
Still, something tells me to trust my stepbrothers—if that's even who Toby and Dylan are.
My plan solidifies in the sanctuary of my shower. Tomorrow, I'll circle back to their place, probably safest to stay in my car, then wait for them to come out. I'll tell them to meet atKeep Yer Belly FullDiner, a neutral ground where I can question them.
The warmth of the water gives way to a hint of cold. I jump out and wrap myself in a towel. Bummer, I'd thought the warm water might last longer when no one else is awake to use it.
I towel dry my hair and put on my comfiest pajamas.
Phone in hand, I flop onto the bed and scroll for a voice notes app—something simple I can use to record and organize my memories.
Knock, knock, knock.
I sit upright and check the rideshare app. Did I leave something in the car? Would they notify me if I did? Nothing.
Stepping into my living room, I wait.
The knocks repeat.
Through the peephole, I see Toby and Dylan.
My pulse quickens.
"Nikk—Molly, we need to talk." Toby's voice booms low.
I press my forehead to the door. I did mention the possibility of talking to them in the note. They must have heard me sneak out. Dammit.
"We can't lose you again." Sincerity thickens Toby's tone.
"Please let us explain," Dylan chimes in softer.
It’s so reminiscent of my memory, and I want answers, but is it safe to trust them?
Dylan pleads, "We tried to talk to you before the auction, but they wouldn't let us. So we had to win you."
My instincts, for what they're worth, tell me I can, but the logic in his statement is lacking. "You couldn't find time after you won me?"
"Nikki, I mean, Molly. It's complicated. I wanted to, but if you rejected us..."
Toby adds, "This isn't a conversation to have through the door."
He's probably right.
"Here, look at these." My mail slot creaks but before I moved in someone rigged up a latch to hold it closed.
For the first time, I unhook the closure. I'd always wondered if the mail used to be delivered to each apartment. We have a bay of mailboxes now. "Go ahead."
Polaroids slide through and I take them. They show a woman who looks like me, full of life, so happy and yet so foreign. I'm with Dylan and Toby. That feels right.
"Okay, so we know each other." I keep the stepbrother possibility to myself. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Toby's tone is strained. "The last three months have been the worst of my life. I aged ten years thinking I'd lost you."
How old is he? Inappropriate thoughts of how handsome he is flash through my mind. The faintest hints of gray in his hairand his muscular build. Dammit. "Doesn't explain why you held back."
"We have more of your things in the car. We'll answer everything."
I want to let them in, get every answer, get my life back, but I'm still cautious. Thanks to my next-door neighbor using me for backup one time, I have an idea. "I want your driver's licenses. I'm going to send pictures of them to my friends. If anything happens to me, they'll know who to look for this time."
