Pain suddenly flares in my ribs as I focus more on the injury.
So I turn my attention.
Lo rips the tabloid out of Lily’s hands.
“They polled our babies by cuteness,” Lily explains. “They can’t do that.”
Lo’s brows bunch. “They can do whatever they want.”
“I just wish there were some ethical limitations,” Lily says while Lo flips to the right page. Lily tries to stop him, pushing his hands. “Don’t! What if Moffy is ranked the ugliest.” She lowers her voice. “We’ll know and we’ll feel bad and it’ll give him a complex.”
I look around for Maximoff. The three-year-old is playing patty-cake with Jane on the carpet.
“That’s not going to happen,” Lo says. “We have an adorable baby.”
“So do Rose and Daisy.”
“You don’t have to look,” Lo tells Lily.
But I’m positive he can’t help himself. I chew another chip and watch this go down.
I don’t even know what I would do in their position. Maybe burn it. Stop the temptation.
While Lo reads through the article, Lily slides towards me and we chat about movies. I think it’s helping distract her from the tabloid, but I haven’t seen as many films as she’s mentioning. Ever since Willow left, I haven’t had the energy to go to the theater.
After a few minutes, Lo finishes reading the article and drifts back to us with chips and salsa in hand. “Little ‘puff,” he calls out to Lily.
Puff is just in reference to Hufflepuff, her Harry Potter house. Willow made me take the sorting quiz too, and I’m Gryffindor like my girlfriend.
I almost smile remembering how Willow spent an hour explaining our house to me and the history behind it. She said Gryffindors are brave, and I get why she’s meant for this house—she’s the most courageous person I’ve ever met. But I’m not sure I fit the mold. Really, of any house or secret club or thing.
Lo stands behind Lily and rests his chin on her shoulder. His eyes flit to me and then back to her. “What are we talking about?”
“Nothing,” Lily says too fast and spins around to face her husband.
Lo stuffs the chip bag underneath his arm. “Nothing?”
“That’s what I said,” she snaps.
“Christ, when’d you get so sassy?”
Lily crinkles her nose, trying to put on a “tough” face. But she fails. Lo sticks his chip between his teeth, freeing up his hand, and he pinches her nose.
Lily playfully pounds her fist into his arm.
Lo feigns a wince and mumbles, “Ouch, love.” He tilts his head back and the chip falls into his mouth.
Their love is an all-consuming thing when you’re in the room with them, and my all-consuming love is thousands of miles away.
3,539 to be exact.
Why am I even here again?
To watch them flirt. To be the seventh-fucking-wheel.
So I blurt out, “We were talking about Justice League 2.” The movie isn’t coming out any time soon—the release now up in the air (which Lily and I were discussing)—but the mention of the DC property is enough to receive a Grade A grimace and glare from Loren.
Seeing him drop his own wife on the ground for talking about DC should have probably made me hesitate. But maybe I have a death-sentence.
Murder me.
It’d be easier being dead.
Lo flashes a half-smile. “Why don’t you go talk about that down the street, turn right, approach a mailbox that says Abbey, walk up the driveway, slam the door—goodbye.” He waves curtly.
Bile rises to my throat. If he even knew what walking up to my family’s home means…
But maybe that’s where I deserve to be. Pressure sits heavy on my chest, and I spin an unlit cigarette between my fingers. Ryke would probably shit a brick if I smoked in here, but I could leave.
That’s what Lo wants anyway.
Anger and something worse pounds against me. “You want me to go home?” I snap and then grind down on my teeth.
Home.
Let me go home and break another rib.
Let me go home and give my mom a chance to save me. Only to push me in a snake pit all over again.
Lo holds my gaze. “I want you to not speak about what-shall-not-be-named inside my brother’s house, and if you can’t handle that, then yeah, you can go home.”
“Lo!” Lily chastises in shock, jaw dropped.
Loren pushes her chin up, closing her mouth. He almost smiles. “Lily.” He mock pouts.
She pokes his chest. “You’re not being nice.”
“Because I’m not nice.”
I release a tensed breath. He’s just being a normal, raging asshole. I have to remember that Lo doesn’t know anything about my home. I don’t think he’d poke at this part of my life if he had any idea about what goes on there.
Lily slides her hand to Lo’s cheeks and she’s looking at him with intense fuck me eyes, so I focus elsewhere. The ceiling. The floor. My phone.
No new texts.
Willow’s probably asleep.
I waver between staying here and jumping off the counter and leaving. But even with Lo practically painting neon arrows towards my house, I like it here. My other option is sitting alone in my apartment.
Being alone sounds horrible.
I’ve never enjoyed my own company. It’s mainly why I spent my prep school years with terrible friends because surrounding myself with people (even shitty ones) was better than being left with my own fucking self.
Instantly, I decide to stay. I’ll grab a drink—soda because Ryke doesn’t have alcohol in his house—and maybe eat some cake and then leave.
The cupboards are behind my head, and I reach up for a cup.
“Garrison,” Lo says with enough worry that I turn quickly.
My head smacks into the cupboard. “Shit,” I curse and rub the throbbing spot. Lo stares at me with a strange amount of concern. I don’t get it. “What?”
He asks softly, “Where did those bruises come from?”
Oh…shit.
Shit.
Fuck.
My mouth falls, and I shake my head. I don’t…how did…
God, my hoodie and shirt must have risen when I reached for the cupboard. Fuckfuckfuck.
FUCK!
I dizzy, my head whirling, knowing there’s no hiding this. I haven’t prepared for anyone beyond Willow to know about my home life.
I glance to Lily, the only other person in the kitchen. I have zero sisters, and there’s something soft and kind about Lily. It makes me want to simultaneously open up but also step back, and I don’t know how to handle telling her the truth.
Lo is different.
I guess he reminds me of me. It’s easier to go head-to-head with someone who wants to rip me open than someone who wants to hug me. I don’t want a hug.
His question jackhammers my brain. Pounding and pounding. Where did those bruises come from? I look back to Lo and lean into my usual excuse. “Lacrosse. Drop it.”
Lily suddenly swings her head to the living room. “Oh look—Moffy.” She quickly moves to leave. Lo pinches her shoulder, and they talk under their breaths before she disappears.
It’s obvious she left on purpose. Because of me. Maybe they can tell I’m lying.
I stay seated on the counter, legs hanging off, and Lo slides closer to my spot. His sharp-edged gaze drills in on me.