of bread in the toaster.
"And I've been… hanging out with Luna. Making sure she's doing okay."
"Is she?"
"Mostly. It's hard. Her entire life is changing. Her normal routine is gone and she doesn't really have anyone nearby who gets it."
"It's good. That you're helping her." His voice is even. Free of implication.
But I hear it anyway. It would be good. If you were only helping her. How did you feel when your best friend helped your sister with his cock? And now you're doing the same thing. Hmm…
"She's a smart kid."
"Yeah."
"Majoring in chemistry?"
"And business." My voice fills with pride. "She wants to run a makeup company."
"Competitive field."
"She could do it."
He turns. Studies my expression. Notes something. "She's a lot like you that way. Headstrong. Determined."
"You don't usually say anything nice about me."
He frowns.
"Think that's the first time in… months."
"You're right."
Fuck, I'm right? That's a first.
"I'm sorry, Oliver. I know I'm hard on you. I know it doesn't help, when I make it obvious I'm disappointed. I don't know how to help you. I don't know what I'm supposed to do if you start drinking again. Or if you get into another accident. It terrifies me."
I don't have anything to say to that, so I take another sip of my coffee.
"You remember how it felt. When Daisy was in the hospital."
"Yeah."
"It's like that. All the time. But since she's been staying here, you've been different. Lighter. Easier. Like you're living and not waiting until you can drink again."
Maybe.
"And I want that for you. I want you to be happy and healthy. I want that for you and your sister. More than I want anything else."
This is too positive. He's going somewhere with it. Somewhere I won't like. "Thanks."
"Am I right? Have things been easier?"
"She's good company, yeah."
"She makes you laugh," he says.
My smile is involuntary. "Yeah."
"I don't know what to say, Oliver. Because I want that for you. I want you to have a best friend. I want you to fall in love. I want you to find someone you can count on."
"I'm not—"
"But what the hell is your sister going to say?"
"I…"
"She likes you."
"I know."
"Have you acted on it?"
I swallow hard.
"It's obvious. The way you look at each other. Your sister will see it the second she gets home."
Maybe. "She's with Holden."
"And when's the last time you talked to Holden by choice?"
It's a good point. Fuck him for making it. But it's a good point.
"I don't want her to lose her best friend."
"And I do?"
He shoots me a look. "Has something happened?"
"No," I lie. "We're just friends."
"Does she know that?"
"Yeah. That's just Luna. She likes to flirt. It doesn't mean anything."
He stares at me like he's waiting for me to give up the truth.
I stare back. Like I have absolutely nothing to hide.
The silence hangs in the air.
Until the toast pops. He turns back to the stove. Cracks four eggs onto the warm pan. "Her parents won't like it. Her staying here if the two of you are fucking."
"She's an adult."
"I don't like it either."
"We're not," I lie.
He doesn't believe me, but he doesn't call me on it.
"She's not staying here forever. Only until things settle with her parents," I say.
"It might take a while."
Yeah.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe you should get your own place."
He's never said that before.
"But not yet, Ollie. Keep the promise you made to your sister. Her first year. Both of you need it."
Maybe.
He turns to the stove. Slides the eggs onto plates. Adds the toast. Brings everything to the table. Then silverware. Coffee. Hot sauce.
A door upstairs opens. The water runs.
Dad stares at me with accusation. Can he tell that was my bedroom door? He's not a fucking bat. He can't use echolocation.
Luna's room is right across from mine.
To a human, it all sounds the same. A door upstairs. Any one.
"I'll make her breakfast." He stands. Moves to the stove. Warms the pan.
Footsteps move into the hallway. Down the stairs.
She smiles as she sees me.
Stops dead in her tracks when she spots Dad.
"Gabe." She brushes her bangs behind her ears. Smooths the Inked Love t-shirt she's wearing. "Good morning." Her hands go to her boxers. Her gaze fades.
"Glad you found the spare pajamas I left." I try to find some explanation. Something that isn't yeah, Dad, we did fuck. Ready to kick me out now?
"Yeah. Thanks." She pats her stomach. "Oliver's cooking is too good. Old ones don't fit."
Dad makes that hmmm noise. He looks to me, his eyes filled with accusation. "It has meant the world