AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But his hair—his hair isn’t dyed light brown like the last I remember.
The natural dark shade makes him look more like our Uncle Ryke, which was why I thought he’d been dyeing it in the first place. To look less like him. So he could show love and loyalty to our dad and give a middle finger to the “Ryke is Moffy’s real father” rumors.
I look back to the elevator, then the snapshot of the lobby. I can’t imagine my brother living in anything extravagant or pricey. He’s not flashy at all. I’d be more freaked if he were wearing shiny loafers and a button-down. He’s just in Timberland boots and a plain white tee.
The elevator dings.
When we’re inside and begin rising, anxiety presses hard on my chest, not knowing what I’ll be walking into. So I think good thoughts. Like how I saw my dad at the hospital.
He sat on the edge of my bed after he hugged me. His relief at seeing me alive and awake flooded the room. “You feel okay?” he asked and his sharp gaze snapped to Farrow like, pain meds stat!
But after a decent night’s sleep at the hospital, my body didn’t ache as badly this morning. Just tender ribs. I learned I fractured two.
I wasn’t totally sure how. I was told there was an assault. The details surrounding that night were still fogged, and they were careful not to paint the whole picture for me. I gathered that it could do more harm than good.
“I feel better,” I told my dad. “How’s Mom?” It hurt even asking. His eyes were bloodshot, face unnaturally torn.
My parents—their souls were intertwined. In my life, their love had always been one-of-a-kind. Stuff of legend and fanfiction, and the fact that it was my reality, that I got to be raised by two soul mates, was a treasure I wouldn’t trade for anything. Not even dirt from Mars or the guarantee I’d write the best sci-fi novel in the world. It was that precious to me.
“She’s doing better,” my dad said tensely. His brows never uncinched in their fuck the world and everyone in it wrinkled position. “But uh…” He had to clear his throat. “She wants to wait a bit until everyone sees her.” He forced a pained smile.
Had he broken his sobriety? Will he break it?
It wasn’t the first time the thoughts invaded, but they seemed the most warranted in that moment and even now.
I frowned. “Why doesn’t she want to see me?” I was hoping to say hi. Hug her. I just wanted to be with my mom.
My question eviscerated him.
I hated that. I hated how I was making things worse, not better. I guessed in that instance, it was proof I was still the same failure and fuck-up.
“It’s not you,” he said with his whole heart. “She’d love to see you, Luna. Trust me.” Trust him. He was my dad, of course I did.
Of course I do.
But I just didn’t understand. “Then why doesn’t she want to?” My temples thumped.
“She’s…not ready yet.” He peered up at the mounted TV, hiding more suffering from me, but I could see. I stopped asking him about her. My throat swelled too much anyway. He cringed at the Rory and Jess drama on the screen. “That reminds me way too much of your Aunt Willow and Uncle Garrison. Gross.” He acted repulsed like an older brother would be about his younger sister’s love life, which made me smile. (Willow is his sister, after all.) “We’ll get Guardians of the Galaxy up there.”
Stellar distraction techniques from my dad.
I no longer questioned why my mom didn’t want visitors, and my dad stayed to chitchat about Star-Lord and Gamora for a while. He did put my favorite movie on the TV too. It comforted me. Once he left, Xander and Kinney replaced him.
They didn’t say much.
Kinney kept sucking down tears. “They told us not to overwhelm you or whatever.” She shrugged like it was nothing.
“Does it hurt?” Xander asked. “Your head?”
You both look so much older. It stunned me and raced my pulse.
Kinney is sixteen. My brother is so close to turning eighteen. A senior in high school. What I thought I was! He’s even had a growth spurt. The more I studied him, his jaw seemed sharper (if that’s possible), amber eyes more intense.
And just yesterday, Kinney had been in middle school. Little. Twig-like. Yeah, she was still gangly like our mom and me, but she wasn’t as soft-cheeked anymore. I couldn’t tell if the makeup was to blame, since our dad never let her wear that much eyeliner or black lipstick.
When did that change?
It all changed. They’ve changed.
Pain radiated inside me. It was too much.
I kept looking over at Donnelly in the corner. He’d give me a thumbs up. There was no Past Donnelly to gauge Present Donnelly. I just had this one Donnelly before me, and unlike with my family, it made things easier.
