By the time I trip back down the stairs after my shower, Dad is already sitting at the breakfast table, waiting for me with a plate of food.
“You housebroken now?”
He holds up a silencing hand. “Just eat.”
He flicks on the sports channel, and we trade bets on what teams look set to take the season.
My gaze wanders to the living room, landing on a photo of Amelia and me. Back when I was twelve. Back when everything was okay between us.
I place my fork down. Not hungry anymore. I glance back at Dad, wondering how much he really knows about his own daughter. With everything he’s been through recently, I still don’t have the heart to ask for his thoughts about me and her.
“Heard from Amelia lately?” I ask, keeping my tone casual.
“She’s real busy with classes.” He shrugs. “You know what your sister is like, though. She keeps to herself.”
“Right. But back when she was a kid, you couldn’t shut her up!”
A wave of nostalgia crests in me, and I shift in my seat.
“Just like her mom! That lady is outta control, Donovan, I’m telling you.” He shakes his head. “You know she calls me every day to check that I’m taking my meds? Says she’ll kneecap me if I don’t.”
I suppress a smile. If she didn’t call every few days, he would lose his shit over that, too. My parents’ relationship is… different. Sure,they’re divorced. But they’ve never gone more than two days without speaking. Why is my relationship with Amelia so different? I don’t get why she didn’t tell me what was going on at the time.
“You have no idea why Amelia’s been so distant?” I press.
I want to hear something—anything—that’ll help me make sense of it all.
“Distant?” He frowns. “She’s not distant. Just independent.”
“Sometimes it feels like she’s mad at me.” The words come tumbling out, and I hold my breath.
“What? Why would she be mad at you?”
“I don’t know. But you and Mom must have noticed we’re not exactly BFFs, right?”
“It’s normal for siblings to not always get along. It happens.”
He sips at his water, and I decide to drop it. He’s clueless, and it’s annoying me. Like I could’ve used some fatherly advice, you know. I sigh. Guess that leaves one last, unfortunate, pain-in-the ass option—Carrie.
WHEN I GET BACK TOmy place, the first thing I see is Adam and Lewis sprawled on the couch, phones glued to their faces. They wave without looking up.
I drop my bag on my bed and pull out one of the books I bought from the mall bookstore on Saturday. At checkout, the cashier gave me the weirdest look when she saw that cover. Can’t really blame her—the dude on the front looks like he was glazed in coconut oil for fifteen minutes. Do girls really find that hot? I make a mental note to ask Carrie.
I grab a recovery drink from the fridge and head for the living room, where I collapse on the couch. Thank God it’s the weekend—I’m totally drained. I can’t wait for Dad to get back to work in January, because at this rate I’ll have aged ten years before he sets foot in the gym again.
I open the book to the dog-eared page, remembering how Carriehad gasped in pure horror when she saw I had folded the corners of her book. I mean, how was I supposed to know she was a neat freak who needed her books to look like no one had touched them before?
I pick back up at chapter 7 and do my best to focus, but honestly, it’s tough. This heroine won’t stop crying her eyes out over some guy who definitely doesn’t feel the same.
Suddenly a butt lands on my armrest.
“What you got there, buddy?” Lewis croons, gesturing at my book.
I stare at him blankly.
“This is called a book, Lewis. Maybe you’ve heard of them?”
“You don’t have to hide your porn from us, dude,” he continues. “I myself dab—”
