"How hard?"
She shoots me that same don't look.
"Are you going to—"
"Oliver." Her tone hardens. "No. You agreed. No follow-up questions. It's my recovery. I'm in charge of it. If I need your help, I'll ask."
That's fair. I hate it, but it's fair. "Okay. But if you seem like you're not doing well, I've already got an apartment lined up."
"You have not."
"Want to bet?"
Her laugh eases the tension in her shoulders. "What about a job?"
"Open my own shop. Specialize in college students. You know how many English majors come in wanting the quote from The Handmaid's Tale?"
"It's a good quote."
"Badass, yeah." My lips curl into a smile. "I can see you with it." I motion to her temporary tattoo free forearm. "If you want to jump in headfirst."
Her smile is easy. "Are you okay?"
"I miss you. And Dad drives me crazy."
"He means well."
"Even so."
"You're the same way, you know," she says. "Worried and over-protective."
I can't deny it. "Yeah, but he looks at you like you deserve protecting. He looks at me like I'm the guy about to smash the vase."
"Either way… he looks at you like you might break."
"Yeah." Her eyes meet mine. "You're really okay? When Holden told me about your… sabbatical, I had to wonder. That's a big change for you."
"So's you leaving."
"You're not convincing me."
How can I explain it without telling her? I want to tell her. I will.
But not yet. Not until I'm on steady ground. Until I can tell her without a maybe it won't stick, maybe I'll fuck up soon, maybe I'll be back to Oliver Flynn alcoholic soon asterisk.
Will I ever get there?
Or will I be like Mom? Flitting in and out of sobriety for the rest of my life.
Trying and failing.
Trying harder and still failing.
Is anyone ever recovered?
If anyone understands, it's Daisy. But I can't put that on her. I'm her big brother. I'm the one who protects her. Not the other way around.
And I…
Fuck, it's bad enough seeing the disappointment on Dad's face. I can't take it from her too.
"Was there a reason?" she asks. "I mean, there's always a reason. But… did something happen?"
Yeah, but I can't tell her yet. Maybe it's not for her sake. Maybe it's for mine.
Maybe I'm a fucking coward.
Either way—
"My last tryst was business as usual. But at the end… I hurt someone." That's close enough to true. "I didn't feel good about it. Started to think about all the other people I've hurt. I'll spare you the details but… I always thought it was okay that I was casual with people's feelings if I was upfront. But I didn't feel good about it anymore."
She nods, not completely following. "How long has it been?"
"Two months. Give or take."
Her eyes fill with surprise. "That's a long time for you."
"Hey." I grab an old stuffed animal from my bookshelf—the teddy bear she gave me a million years ago—and toss it in her direction.
She catches it.
"You've been practicing?"
"Pure luck." She places the bear in her lap. "You're sure that's it?"
"It's complicated."
"Isn't everything?"
"You can say that again."
She does.
I can't help but chuckle. "That's a Holden joke."
"Oh God, it is." She smiles. "I guess that's what happens when you spend time with someone."
"You grow together."
She nods. "You and Luna?"
Not going there. "She's got me watching The Bachelorette."
"And you got her tattooing her favorite lyrics to her arm."
"She's been begging me for that tattoo forever."
Daisy laughs true. "The Bachelorette is a big win for her. You swore you'd never watch such awful trash."
"It is awful trash."
"But fun."
"It is. And speaking of fun—" I need to change the subject immediately. "I haven't finished my costume." I reach into my bottom drawer. Pull out the only item I have. "I figure, with jeans and that oversized sweatshirt she wears."
"Oh my god." She laughs. "That's perfect."
"You have a sweater like that?"
"No." She pulls her cell from her purse. "But Holden might."
"When has he worn an orange hoodie?"
"Okay, he might know someone who does. Or… I'm sure there's something at Santa Monica Place."
"A hundred-dollar hoodie from Nordstrom?"
"Twenty-dollar hoodie from H&M?" She taps a text to her boyfriend. "If you ask nicely, he'll probably grab one for you."
"That's okay." I don't want to owe him a favor. "I'll go before work tomorrow."
"You sure?" Her eyes flit to the wig. "It would be a tragedy if you didn't complete your costume."
"I'll make it happen."
She laughs it's perfect. But there's something else in it too. This knowing smile.
Like she knows I'm doing it because I'm fucking Luna.
But that's ridiculous.
How could she know?
Chapter Forty-One
Luna
Daisy sits on her pink sheets. She falls onto her back. Spreads out. Sighs like she's completely out of energy.
I get the feeling.
I'm equal parts adrenaline and exhaustion. We spent the entire night watching Riverdale and molding chocolate into inappropriate shapes. (Yes, I have vulva molds, who doesn't?)
Every few minutes, I looked at my new tattoo and thought oh my god, I did that.
I really did.
It's really there.
God, it's awesome. There's no better word. Amazing, beautiful, powerful, cool.
Totally and completely awesome.
Daisy yawns. "How am I going to a party in two hours?"
"Your boyfriend's party."
"I know." She lets her eyes close. "What if I sleep instead?"
"He'll leave, come here, climb into bed with you."
She lets out a murmur of approval. "Sounds perfect."
It does. I already miss Oliver's touch. The feeling of his body wrapped around mine. It's only been a day, but that's a day too long.
I need to hold him and kiss him and fuck his brains out.
"I'm talking about him a lot, aren't I?" She rolls onto her side. Reaches for a pillow. Slides it under her head.
Yeah, but it's good to see her happy. "Is he a good cuddler?"
"Mmm."
"I would think he can't sit still."
"Sometimes. But not if I've worn him out."
"Daisy Flynn, you minx."
She giggles. "I think it's more biology."