“She could’ve lost you.” Her temper is rising.
I don’t reply. She’s spinning herself up, and I’m superfluous to the scene now.
“Who would’ve taken care of her then?”
Sitting up, I wince as I face my sister. “Her dad.” Knees wide, I set my elbows down before thinking better of it. Fuck.
“What?” Ayla reacts faster than I can imagine. “What is it?”
“Bruised elbows and bruised knees. I’m guessing I buckled.”
“I want to hit you so hard right now. But I can’t find a spot that you’re not black and blue. Later, though.”
I laugh out loud. “Are you reserving the right to hurt me when I’m less injured?”
“Yes.”
“Your redhead is showing.”
“Yours too,” she spits back.
“Just the beard.” I pull my hand through it, bringing it to a point before it springs back to its wilder nature. Standing, I drop Poe into the grass despite her mewls of protest. She pees, which is a relief, and crouches down, springing onto my ankle, clinging with all four paws. “Come here.” I pry her off my ankle and place her back in the hoodie.
“I always knew you were a big softie.”
“Do I look like a softie to you?” I scrunch my brows and gesture to my body.
“No, but your heart is.”
I wink. “That’ll be our little secret. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to figure out what’s going on with my wife.” I head back upstairs, hating going up as much as I did coming down.
Lorien
Black eyes suck. A black eye for family pictures sucks worse. Between Mom’s broken arm, my swollen eye and black shadow underneath, and adding a sixth person to the photo, our poses are purely strategic.
Mom turns so her right arm is out of view. I’m placed so my left eye isn’t front and center. Sam and Billy look put upon that they have to be there at all. Dad appears emotionally constipated. Strider is the only one who looks remotely normal, though he’s still wearing the anger he donned last night when he heard about move-in day.
Worst family photos ever.
If we have any cheeriness in these, I’ll be shocked. I think the photographer would too. He looks at his view finder between takes and holds up a finger after each shot, indicating he needs one more. Then another, then another. Maybe he can cobble the best of every face from any given picture and photoshop us into one big happy family.
After smiling painfully and standing awkwardly for more time than any human should be expected to in the July sun, we call it quits.
Mom wants us to go back home and seeing as how she’s on the warpath, Dad is adamant about her getting her way. Sam and Billy are staying there at least until their flight leaves tonight.That just leaves me and Strider, and far be it from us to be the two most difficult people in the group.
Besides, all my stuff is there, so we pile into the vehicles and head to our parents’. I ask my brother to stop at his house along the way to pick up the salad fixings. He’ll never eat enough greens that the birthday stash won’t go bad, and I haven’t had a vegetable since the airport Thursday night.
I grab my phone as it sits in a bag of rice as well. I have little hope for it, but there’s no sense in leaving it here.
I’m kicking myself for not writing down any numbers. I don’t have Liam’s or Ayla’s. Heck, I don’t know my family’s either.
I can figure out boarding the plane. They still print boarding passes, but how to find Liam once I arrive could prove to be challenging. I certainly can’t call a taxi or book a rideshare.
As I’m walking back to Strider’s truck, he has an odd expression and he indicates he’s on the phone, so I wait until he waves me over. I slide in quietly only to hear a familiar voice. A voice forcing both of my worlds to collide.
Liam.
“… no answer and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
