AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER27
ZEKE
Leavingmy house at the end of December is my least favourite thing to do, never mind on Christmas eve. I should not be anywhere but in my living room getting drunk right now.
The music is shit, the decorations are atrocious, and all I can think about when I see boxes wrapped in colourful paper is Jason, drunk. Mom, either gone or sitting in the chair, looking out the window. That woman’s ability to dissociate will haunt me until I’m dead.
Christmas is tricky for my family, but this year is different. This year is my niece’s first Christmas with Xan. Everyone is folding themselves inside out for this ten-year-old girl, who is a master at bending grown humans to her will.
It’s admirable, for sure. And annoying as fuck.
I wait in line at the grocery store, staring at the list in my hand and comparing it to the food on the belt. Nova and Tabby are getting straight-up ridiculous with this Christmas baking, and now I’m errand boy.
All I want to do is spend time with Nova, but my sisters are always at the apartment, the four of them planning and scheming to make this the best Christmas ever. A recipe for disaster, if anyone bothered to ask me. I guess there are worse problems, but still, I finally get to have Nova and my goddamn family swoops in. Nothing in this world is just mine.
I crumple the list and shove it into my pocket, waiting for the woman in front of me to pay for her groceries.
To keep occupied—and to prevent the music from making me homicidal—I scan the display where they put all the gum and candy and brain-rotting tabloids out to distract people. I do a double-take on a magazine and snap it up from the till, pulling it uncomfortably close, just to be sure it’s really her.
No fucking way.
My entire being hollows out. The magazine flutters more loudly than my heart as I find the right page. The clerk begins to scan my groceries, so I toss the magazine on the counter, palms sweating, and fumble for my card.
This can’t be right. That can’t be her.
Princess…
Holy shit.
The cashier says something to me, but I don’t have a clue what, so I just respond with “Thanks.” I grab the bags and walk out into the biting cold, my fury keeping me warm and fueling me forward.
I make it home in record time. When I enter with all the bags clutched in my arms, Tabby and Nova are both barefoot in Jet’s kitchen, music thumping. I plop the bags down on the island and click the speaker off. The silence stretches across the apartment, and they both turn to look at me.
Tabby has flour on her face and a grin on her lips that she reserves just for Christmas baking. Her favourite time of year. Nova is wearing a tight tank top and pants that hug her ass in a way I shouldn’t be noticing with this anger that’s building in my chest.
“Zeke,” Tabby says. “You okay?”
“Tab, I need to talk to Nova, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Alone, Tabitha,” I say, my tone hardening.
“You need to stop doing this,” she snarks, standing me down. “Your yo-yo moods are getting really fucking annoying, you know that?”
Usually, I’d be happy to battle it out like we usually do, but I’m not thinking about her right now. I’m thinking about Nova and the massive lies she’s been telling me.
I clench my jaw. “We’ll talk about it later. I need you to leave.”
Tabby’s eyes widen, and she pinches her lips, taking a few steps backward. Once she disappears through the door, I take the magazine, still open to the page I was reading, and slap it down on the counter.
“Please tell me you have some long-lost twin somewhere, and this is her.” I jab a finger at the headline that says:Country Music Princess Disappears After Fall From Grace.
Her face pales, and her mouth makes a little o shape, and I know that I busted her.
“Is this you?” I tap the photos on the spread of her. Pictures of her walking down the street with a coffee, a screenshot of a YouTube video with her looking beautifully done up and surrounded by fancy things. There’s a photo of an aerial view of a mansion and a subheading that says,Where is Nova Forrester?
“Yes.” She doesn’t argue, just leans on the counter and rests her forehead on her arms.
