or on the bus.” Dad sent him a glare that had him saying, “On second thought, I’m great at charming the parents. Let me come with.”
“I knew it,” Dad said, a tad too triumphantly. “I tried to tell you, Brenna, but you wouldn’t even hear it.” He mumbled something about, “Telling me there’s raccoon’s in the goddamned attic.”
Aiden’s thigh turned to concrete beneath my hand, and I pulled it away.
Mom rolled her eyes and took a huge swig of wine.
Everett’s gaze was still fixed on me, unwavering and turbulent.
I dropped my head into my hands.
“Merry fucking Christmas, fam-bam,” Hendrix sang at the top of his lungs.
Aiden dug his tongue into his cheek as soon as the door to my room shut behind him. His hand rose, lips parting, as he tried to formulate words.
This happened over and over while I stood there, my chest and head hurting.
“Shit. Fucking shit, Stevie,” was all he finally came up with.
“I didn’t know they’d be here, Aiden.”
He paced the short length of my room, arm flexing as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “I know. Doesn’t change the fact they’re here, though, does it?”
I sat on my bed. “We couldn’t ignore them forever.”
Aiden didn’t seem to agree, his hand slapping to his side. “It would’ve been nice to try.”
I said nothing, staring at the specks littering the brown carpet of my room.
Eventually, he joined me, and we both lay down on my bed, not touching, and staring up at the glow worms on the ceiling.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to stare at them either.
Orange mingled with pink over my bedroom walls, and I forced my eyes open as noise drifted through the ajar bedroom door.
Aiden must’ve draped the knitted afghan over me, but as I sat up, pushing hair back from my face, I couldn’t see him.
Panic sharpened until I saw his duffel sitting next to mine by my sticker-covered wardrobe and heard the unmistakable deep sound of his laughter from down the hall.
What a mess. A tangled, acrid mess.
I used the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before gathering the courage to enter where the noise emanated from in the living room.
Hendrix, Mom, and Aiden were chatting and laughing, but there was no sign of Everett and Dad.
I smiled at Aiden when he flashed me a questioning look, and then I went in search of Dad, who was undoubtedly pissed.
Low voices filtered through the crack of the front door, and the orange glow of a cigarette caught my eye. I peeked out and saw Everett’s shadow in a deck chair on the lawn near the bus. Dad was sitting in another chair beside him, nursing a beer.
A hand fell on my shoulder, and I startled, then realized it was only Mom. “Leave them. They’re hashing it out.”
“Is he mad?”
“He was,” Mom admitted. “But mainly with me for not telling him.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice catching.
She squeezed my shoulder, then grabbed my arm, turning me away from the door. “Nothing to be done about it now.”
Anxiety rolled off me when I heard Dad laugh and mention my name, but I moved back down the hall, entering the living room with Mom.
Aiden scooted over on the couch, and I sank down beside him, his arm coming to rest around my shoulders.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Your boyfriend was telling me about how he met you,” Hendrix said, stroking his whiskered chin. “Smooth as silk, man.”
“You did not,” I said.
Aiden sipped his beer, tipping a shoulder. “Why not? It’s a great story.”
Hendrix fiddled with the pegs of his acoustic guitar, then tested the strings. “It is. Much better than the other one I heard.”
“Hendrix,” Mom warned.
“Chill, Mom.” He plucked a fast tune, then slapped his hand over the strings with a grin. “I’m dealing with it.”
“Deal a little faster. It’s over and done with now.”
Hendrix pursed his lips in a way that said he wasn’t so sure, and Aiden cleared his throat. “You hungry? We had lunch leftovers for dinner, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
I poked his dimple. “I’m fine, Prince.”
“What’d you just say?” A rough question from the entryway.
My hand fell from Aiden’s face as Everett’s paled beneath the Christmas lights strung from every corner of the room.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my spine pulling taut at the crazed look in Everett’s eye.
“Him.” He gestured to Aiden. “What’d you just call him?”
“Prince,” I said, my cheeks heating. “It’s, um, his last name.”