I do as asked. The expression he gives my messy bun, jeans, and tee is not so polite. First Emma and now him. No shit I don’t look my best. I’m going through some things right now. Sheesh. Also, Ethan is waiting silently nearby. I also spy a black tail swishing agitatedly beneath a nearby sofa. Poor Princess. It can’t be easy being a floof baby when your newly adopted parents are going through some stuff. She has to be picking up on the weird vibes. Or having a weird dream while she naps. Or has gas. One or the other.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” asks Henry.
Such a judgmental family. I frown. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“Why are you and Beck fighting?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Bullshit.”
“Language,” I say, warningly. Then I reach out to touch his hand. He allows this contact for like two seconds before giving me a you’re being weird look. Teenagers. What can you do? “It’s good to see you, Henry. Are you okay?”
“What do you think?” he asks, tone somewhat aggressive.
Ethan raises a hand. “Hi, Alice. He called and said he needed to talk to you so I figured I may as well just bring him.”
“Hi, Ethan.”
Henry slides past me and slumps onto the bed. His dark hair is slicked back, his usual smirk replaced by a somber expression. “Grandma wants me to support her in taking control of my shares from Ethan.”
“What?”
“Even if she did, she still wouldn’t have the votes necessary to kick Beck off the board,” says Ethan. “Don’t worry.”
Thank goodness for that.
“It’s all such bullshit,” says Henry.
“Language.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You need to fix things, Alice. Beck is miserable. Grandma is harassing me. Everything’s wrong.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Then talk to Beck and sort things out.”
I shake my head “Henry…we’re working on it, okay? It’s just going to take some time.”
“Fucking adults.” He looks to heaven. “You’re always messing up everything and making it ten times more difficult than it needs to be. He’s sorry, okay? He’s an idiot; of course he screwed up. Look at our family history—we’re bound to be terrible at this sort of thing. But it’s nothing you two can’t fix.”
I turn away for a moment. “How is school going? Is everything all right? It’s really is good to see you.”
He curls his upper lip, body tense. “You’re being fucking selfish, you know that?”
“Henry,” snaps Ethan. “That’s not okay. Apologize.”
But instead, he kicks back hard against the base of the bed before throwing himself out the door and pushing past Ethan. Hoodie pulled up, he heads for the stairs.
Ethan sighs. “It’s a tough situation for him. There hasn’t been a lot of stability in his world lately.”
I just nod. My throat is tight and sore. Again.
“I get this is none of my business, what’s going on between you and Beck,” he says, not looking at me. “But don’t underestimate how important you are to him.”
“Thank you.”
“Henry had a point about us not learning anything good from some of the authority figures in our lives. It’s not an excuse, but…just keep it in mind.”
“Yeah.”
He lifts a hand goodbye. “If you need anything, call me. I mean that.”
“Thank you.” And I’m crying once more. God, this sucks. It completely fucking sucks.
There’s a knock on the door around seven and Beck stands there with a tray. No idea why the sight of him still sets me metaphorically on my ass. Angry or not, I turn into this gasping swooning creature around him. A woman who needs to ease up on the emotions. Because it can’t be healthy, going from heaven to hell and back again several times in the course of one day. However, something in me eases at the sight of him. Some anxiety that’s been churning inside of me all day. He’s still in the jeans and tee, only with an added cool black leather jacket. And seeing him reminds me of what Emma said. About how even heroes fuck up sometimes. Because Beck is definitely my hero, set up on a pedestal inside my head. It’s a fact and it probably doesn’t make life or being in a relationship with me any easier for him. Maybe we both need to bring our expectations down to a more reasonable, livable level. Neither of us is godlike or infallible.
“I come bearing food and this disgusting-looking drink for some reason,” he says.
“Apparently my complexion is shit.”
“Ah.” He braves a smile, but it doesn’t quite stick.