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“And we still live together,” I say, looking at the door that hasn’t opened yet.
“We do. Only we have a ton more roommates.”
I’ve been told that already. The penthouse upgrade seems logical, and Moffy wouldn’t only consider himself in that decision. He’d put it up to a vote, and I must’ve voted for this too.
As the door opens, I walk behind my brother and round the wide hall into a spacious living room. Warm earth tones, brick walls, and industrial lighting—I can feel remnants of the townhouse here. But Jane’s explosion of grannie furniture is gone. Instead, I see a mod pastel blue couch and masculine leather chairs. The floor-length window showcases a beautiful view of Philadelphia.
“Wow,” I breathe, just as furry felines bound over to us. Squatting, I pet Jane’s black beauty at my side, remembering her well. “Hi there, Lady Macbeth.” She brushes up against me and purrs.
Good news, I haven’t become cat repellent.
“None of the roomies are around?” I ask Moffy.
He’s checking the mail on the coffee table. “They’ll be here tomorrow. They wanted to give you a chance to acclimate.”
My dad asked if I wanted to go back home with him. Stay at my childhood house since it’s where I remember living, but I want to jog my memories. The best bet I have is going about my life where it is today and not where it was three years ago.
So I have roommates now.
Moffy and Farrow, plus their son.
Jane and Thatcher. Weird. Plus their newborn daughter. Still weird but cute.
Sulli and Akara and Banks. Weirder. And I say weird with the utmost love. I adore weird things, but it’s also really hard to grasp. Like trying to piece together a puzzle made of clay.
Farrow suggested I let Jane and Sulli answer my questions about their lives, so I keep those to myself.
Oh, I do have one more roomie.
Donnelly.
He shares a bathroom with me apparently, which makes living here easier. At least, I know he’ll be nearby.
Suddenly, a giant dog ambushes me. The excited ball of fluff nearly knocks me out of my squat and onto my butt.
“Oh shit,” I curse as the dog licks my face. “Nice to see you too…” I pause. What’s its name? I laugh when the fluffy black dog nuzzles into my cheek, tail wagging haphazardly. I pet under its scruff. “Did Sulli get a dog?” I ask Moffy.
He’s watching me from the middle of the room, mail tucked under his armpit. His face stays a little unreadable, but his eyes glass in a sadness.
“He’s yours,” Moffy says.
My stomach knots. I have a dog. When? How? There are too many questions. Too much time to fill. I try to figure things out on my own and reach for his collar, looking for a name.
Panic trembles my hands, and I squeeze them tight, trying to catch my breath.
“His name is Orion,” Moffy says, helping me out.
“Orion,” I nod and gulp air. Okay.
I named a dog after a constellation. That makes sense at least. So does his breed. “He’s a Newfie,” I say. “Like Nana from Peter Pan.”
Moffy nods, then eats his next words, rethinking. He cracks a few knuckles.
There’s more? I could ask. He’s clearly trying to filter out what’s unnecessary info, so I’m not hit over the head with details and history all at once.
“You remember me, Orion?” I ask, scratching his fluffy head with two hands. He licks my cheek again. I wish I could remember you.
I rise to my feet, and Orion circles my body frenziedly. “He has mega puppy energy.”
“He is still a puppy,” Maximoff says.
“Really? He’s huge.”
“Newfies stop growing when they’re two. Which he won’t be until April.” Moffy smiles down at a drooling Orion.
He’ll be bigger? His torso reaches my waist, and he’d hog most of the couch if he jumped on the cushions. The more he races around me like a cumbersome adorable oaf, the more I gather that Orion loves me. I share my brother’s smile and give Orion one more pat and scratch.
Just then, a second fluffy Newfie suddenly trots up to his side. Moffy pets him under the chin. The puppy is almost identical to mine. Except for the brown fur.
My lips slowly part.
“You can ask,” Moffy encourages.
“I don’t need to ask.” I lean my weight on one foot, trying to be casual. “He’s Orion’s brother.” It’s an educated guess, but it’s enough to light up my brother’s eyes.
“You remember Arkham?” He’s tentative, but the hope attached to his voice sends a wave of wasps through my stomach. Stinging my insides.
“Yeah, a little,” I lie.
His brows pinch. “It’s okay if you don’t know something. I’m not going to judg—”
“I know you won’t judge me,” I interrupt him with unfamiliar bite.
He nods slowly, not even put off by my tone. My brother is still a good, moral bean, I think. “Just making sure you know.”
