… carbon fucking copy…
—3 years later—
The knocking on the door surprises me as I walk with the hamper down the hallway, trying to put up the clothes that I have just folded away. Setting the basket down on the table as I pass by, I walk to the front door and pull it open.
If I was smart, I would have looked through the peephole first.
Maybe one day I’ll learn.
Because glancing up and taking in the Midnight Syn’s logo on the back of the leather cut, almost makes me slam the door shut. The only reason I don’t is because the face that turns around and looks at me, I feel as if I owe something too. Because as he turns around, his smile grows as he looks down at me in what has always been like an overprotective brother.
“Ash?” I stare at him as if he’s grown a second head. “You got old.” I look at him, causing him to laugh for a second.
“We need to talk.” He says as his face falls back into his natural stoic expression.
“It’s not really a good time.” I rush out, trying to shut the door as soon as possible. “I’m really busy today.”
I’m attempting to close the door when I hear him call back out to me. “It’s about Oz. He’s sick, El.” I knew it had to have something to do with my father, I doubt Ash would come up here to tell me anything if it was anyone else, and I freeze looking back up to him. As terrible as the last time I saw my father was, if anything had happened to him, I would be devastated. I would hate myself for what I said to him and because I’ve stayed away for almost 4 years. “El, it’s his liver. He’s in stage 4 cirrhosis..” His voice cracks as he tells me and I’m not sure if he’s overly emotional because he is telling me or because. “Can I come in so we can talk about it?”
That’s a terrible fucking idea.
“Now’s not really a good time.” I tell him as I try to be as quiet as possible.
“What the fuck?” He snaps out at me.
Ash’s voice is loud because I’m pissing him off and I honestly don’t care at this moment, because I just need to get him away from the house.
“I just have a lot to do right now.” I pause, “Why don’t we meet up tonight and talk about it.” I’m quickly pissing him off the more I try to evade this conversation.
“Goddamnit, Ella.” He shouts at me.
“Ash,” I hiss out towards him. “You can’t just show up out of the blue and expect me not to be busy. I’m not 12. You can’t dictate my life anymore.” He rolls his eyes.
“I know, you made me well aware of that the last time that we spoke.” He’s still hurt by my words as he uses his to hurt me slightly, but he and I both know that I was right.
“Mommy,” I completely freeze, “why is it there yelling?” The small voice comes out loud enough to shut Ash up quickly as his eyes grow wide and I swear under my breath.
“Marcella!?” Ash exclaims, using my full name, which no one ever does anymore. In fact, I have heard no one say my real name in the last 4 years since I took off and left Sonston’s End. I’m almost positive that no one here even really knows it. He stares at me as his hand lays flat on the door and he slowly pushes it back open. His eyes grow even wider as he looks past me.
Turning around, I look at my son, who eyes Ash suspiciously, “I’m sorry.” but I can’t help but smile at him with his sleepy voice, rubbing his eyes. Sighing, I turn back around and look at Ash again, who is still staring past me into the hallway of my small house. “Since that didn’t work.” And I motion for him to come inside. Walking down the hall to my son, I pause as I try to move him with me, but he holds his place firm, as he continues to just stare back at Ash, and I hear a door close.
Fucking genetics.
“Who is he?” He whispers to me, and I can’t help but smile.
“Hey, little man,” Ash lowers his voice, taking any amount of pugnacity out of it, “I’m Ash.” He holds his hand out to him.
“Jagger, but you can call me Jag.” Jag whispers out, grasping his hand, holding a tight grip on it as Ash shakes it.
“Jagger…” he smirks, “I’ve known your mom here since she was smaller than you.”
“Really?” Jag smirks as he looks up to him and Ash nods.
“Yup, you know I have two little boys at home who are probably around your age.” He laughs out, shaking his head, and looking up at me. I shrug in response to his underlying question.
“You do?” Jag’s eyes light up at the mention of kids his age to play with.
“Yup, they’re kind of like your cousins.” He laughs before I cut my eyes to him, mouthingthat’s low, and walk off into the living room. I grab Jagger’s coat off of the couch before I walk back out into the hallway.
