AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’d never disagree with that.
29
LUNA HALE
Everything has changed. It’s impossible to feel like it hasn’t. And I don’t know whether to crumple into myself and cry or scream in rage. But I do neither while I’m around Moffy. He’s already looking at me like I might dissolve into the carpet, and I really don’t need his worry to mount.
Speaking of carpet—it’s ugly. An ugly shade of blah gray runs down a deserted, maze-inducing hallway. After being at the hospital for two days, I’ve finally left. We just entered a back entrance to the apartment complex from a parking deck, and I’m utterly lost.
At least we’re out of the clutches of the media. Fiendish paparazzi (as Eliot would call them) were camping outside the hospital, and leaving undetected was a challenge that the security team aced. A horde of bodyguards flanked me and obscured me while I exited Philly General, and I was skillfully dipped into an SUV. After being dropped off in a parking deck I’ve never seen before—and entering a building completely foreign to me—I just keep waiting for something to click in my brain.
Nothing has yet.
“This is where we live?” My brows scrunch.
Moffy looks to me with the same toughened green eyes, as if he’s ready to football-tackle the monster who stole my memories. Right now, I like to think of my oldest brother as my memory guide into my missing years, and it’s probably good he’s a protective one.
“This is just the hall,” he answers with a gesture around the undecorated area. “Not that we usually take this back entrance.”
“We don’t?” I peek back at the locked rear door, a sign above saying emergency exit. The horde of bodyguards didn’t join us. Farrow wasn’t among them since he’s needed at the hospital. Nor was J.P., but I’m not sure why my bodyguard was MIA.
While we’d been safely in the backseat of the security SUV, I told Moffy, “You could’ve brought your son.” I kinda wanted to meet him. Soft baby cuddles would’ve maybe lifted my spirits.
Moffy seemed uptight with someone else driving. Normal. What I remember. “You’ll see him soon.” He pried his eyes off the driver to focus on me. “I just want to make sure you get home okay first. There’s a ton of paparazzi.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. I couldn’t remember a time so many ever tried to follow me. “Who’s your baby with if Farrow’s working?” I wanted to call the baby my nephew, but it felt too bizarre.
“Ryke and Dad are watching him.”
“Not our aunts?” I would’ve thought they’d be the first in line after our mom.
“Ripley likes when Ryke and Dad hold him more,” he explained, still trying his best to train his gaze on me and not the driver. Screens blocked our windows, so he couldn’t peer outside that easily. “When he was really small, he used to cry a lot, except when he was in my arms. So I think they remind him of me.”
I wanted to ask if Original Luna already knew this, but I just assumed she did.
Walking through this ugly carpeted hallway now, Moffy clues me in more, “We usually go in the front entrance. The lobby.”
“So we’re still not that afraid of any lurking cameramen?”
“Yeah,” he smiles. “You and I still brave them like they’re total background to our awesome abnormal lives.” He slips me another brotherly smile, and it feels the same.
Not so different.
The escalating pitter-patter of my heartbeat slows a little. He is a very good memory guide. Chosen wisely.
“We’re going up.” He points ahead after we’ve weaved between halls and worked our way towards the lobby. “It’s a private elevator. No one else has access to it without our keycard. No strangers allowed.”
I want to ask if I seem like a stranger to him.
But I’m limiting my questions. My family and Farrow agreed not to overwhelm me by filling in every single blank in my memory. Instead, they’re letting me ask the questions. And I’m trying my best to filter out the stupid ones.
“Private elevator,” I muse under my breath while he scans his card, and we wait for the elevator to drop to us. From here, I spy a snapshot of the lobby. Seems glitzy. Marbled floors. Gold light fixtures. I like the green paisley wallpaper.
Still, is this apartment snazzy or something? I glance back at my brother.
He’s older. Three entire years older, and I see the changes. His jawline is stronger with age. He’s more built, but he still stands poised for a meteor shower. He’s never been Atlas, crouched down while bracing the world.
My brother is upright, the entire globe perched on his strong swimmer’s shoulders like it weighs as much as an inflatable beach ball. The same. That’s the same. Or is he pretending for me? To not frighten me?
