I’m wondering the same thing, but a feeling of dread fills my stomach like lead.
Lan grabs a hoodie from the dining room table and tosses it over his head, then strolls toward the door. “Maybe they’re so hard up for money, they’re selling candy door to door.”
If I run now, could I make it out of the garage?
Instead, my body betrays me by justsittingthere. At the kitchen island. Frozen. No matter how many deep breaths I will myself to take, somehow, my frontal lobe isn’t overriding my thalamus. I’m locked in. Can’t move.
“Well, well, well…” Lan’s deep voice booms across the room, and I refuse to turn and look behind me as I sense the approaching figures. Including Bo. “Seems like Mr. Apollo Griffin, theDeltapresident, is here to see Scoutie.”
An evendeepervoice clears its throat before speaking. “And to meetyoutoo, Mr. Turner and Dr. Turner.”
“Dr. Turner-Whittemore,” my mom says with a tight grin. “But you can call me Kinsley.” She reaches out her hand after wiping it on a dish towel. “And that’s her father, Mr. Turner.”
Bo leans against the refrigerator, as if monitoring the situation for danger, while Lan has his arm tossed around the shoulders of the man next to him.
When I finally allow myself to look into those soulful deep brown eyes of Apollo, thunder cracks inside my chest.
His gaze is light. The threat behind itisn’t. It’s not ofviolence, but of something else.
Exposure.
“What can we do for you, Apollo?” My mom carefully glances between me and the guy I’m going to marry.
Dad’s focused on the monitor in front of him. Like he’s refusing to turn around. But I’d bet anything he’s ready to pounce any second.
“I figured Scout told you already.” Apollo’s suit is immaculate. Like he just came from a mafia meeting. He doesn’t belong in my family’s messy kitchen.
He gives me a nod, like I’m supposed to follow his lead. But I’m still not operating at full brain power. Unable to speak. I feel like Dad and Bo right now. Maybe my Turner genes have kicked in, and I’ve gone mute.
“Told us?” Mom encourages, with a wary glance at me.
“About the wedding? This coming Wednesday?”
“What wedding?”
“Mom…” I whisper. But no one hears. Except for my father, whose eyes grow wide as he scans my face. “Dad…”
“We’re, uh, scheduled to be married this week in theCathedral of the Seven Moons. Scout Lee Turner is my appointed.”
“Y-Yourappointed.” Mom’s neck nearly snaps as she stares at me, fury behind her eyes. Likely for not telling her sooner.
Dad’s up out of his seat in the next second, walking oh so very slowly toward the man who just entered.
Landon’s laughing his ass off. So hard, he almost falls over.
And Bo doesn’t move a muscle.
“TheDeltapresident. Oh, this is peak comedy,” Lan’s saying between breaths. “You know we have to kill you, right?” he asks Apollo.
Apollo doesn’t have a chance to respond before my father’s shaking his hand. Not friendly.
“Who are you, Apollo Griffin? Sit down here. Right here. No, not there.Here.” Mom snaps her fingers and points to the stool one away from me. “Let me look at you. And you both together.”
Lan can’t help cackling. Holding his stomach, keeling over.
My fists ball up as I scan the counter for something to throw at his head.
“Lan? You’re done. Out of here. You, too, Bo. Both of you. Go.” Mom directs them toward the garage. “George?George. George.” Each call lands differently. She acts as if my dad’s not standing right behind Apollo. “Sit down. Don’t make him more uncomfortable.”
