I blocked out my feelings, so I couldn’t see Mo past it all. It never really worked though. I was always aware of her, always knew she was right there, just on the other side.
Now those walls have collapsed on top of me, burying me beneath a giant pile of shit I can’t seem to climb out of. She probably thinks I’m not capable of a solid relationship, because I’ve never been in one. But I was never in one because the only relationship I’ve ever wanted was with her.
What the fuck have I done?
I thought I was building walls to protect myself, protect her. What I was really doing was laying bricks for my own mausoleum.
A flood of people come through the revolving door from the concourse into the baggage claim area. Rachel drags her carry-on behind her, her mouth set in a grim line. I let out a defeated sigh. How do tell her how badly I’ve messed up with Mo?
I wrap my arms around Rach, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. “Hey, Sis. How was the flight?”
She shrugs. “How’s Mom? How’s Mo?”
I cringe.
“That bad, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
She hooks her arm around mine and bumps me with her shoulder. “Then tell me.”
*
By the time I’ve given Rach all the nasty details, minus the sexiest parts about me and Mo, we’re passing the gaggle of reporters camped out by our front gates.
“Man alive. Look at that.” Rachel turns to stare out the back window as we pull through the massive iron bars that keep our private lives—well, not-so-private now, I guess.
At the house, Rachel gets out of the car, casting a look down to the guest house. “So, she’s gone?”
“Yeah. Staying with Slade.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “Slade? Like, Slade Slade?”
“They’re friends I guess. I had no idea until she told me he was her study partner for one of her summer classes.”
Inside, Mom’s on the sofa asleep, a bottle of vodka and a glass on the end table. My gut hardens.
Rachel shakes her head. “Here we go again.”
Dad comes in and smiles at Rachel. “Hey, Pumpkin.”
She steps closer to me, no smile in return. “Dad.”
He frowns and tosses a disapproving look my way. “Your brother been telling tales? Rachel, please don’t believe everything you hear.”
She pushes away from me and grabs her backpack from my hand, backing toward the stairs. “I have no idea what to believe right now. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
My chest puffs out at her audacity—so unlike her. Go, sis.
I follow her up to her room and leave her bags for her. “If you want to talk, I’m down the hall, packing.”
“Packing?”
“Yeah. It’s time. I’m too old to live at home. Besides, after what he did to Mo, I can hardly stomach looking at Dad. Makes me want to rip his fucking face off.”
Rach drops her backpack and gives me a big hug. “Sorry, Danny. I know how much you care for Mo. I hope you guys work everything out. Have you told Mom about the baby?”
I grab her shoulders. “No. And you can’t tell her either. Not until Mo decides what she’s going to do. Mom’s got way too much dragging her down right now. Hell, she’s already fallen off the wagon, and she hadn’t even been dried-out for four months yet.”
“I know. I was just asking.” She squeezes me again. “Okay. Let me unpack while you pack. I’ll see you in a little while.”
I pull out my phone on my way down the hall. No calls or texts from Mo. Damn.
I send her one.
Dying to see you, but reporters lurk. Don’t attempt rescue.
*
I add DVDs on top of my video games. As I fold the flaps of the box over so they stay secure without tape, Rach pushes my door open.
“Hey, you forget how to knock in Africa?”
Her face is pale, eyes wide. “Come downstairs. The police are here.”
I suck in a deep breath and nod.
At the top step, Rachel takes my hand. I give hers a squeeze.
In the living room, a youngish officer reads Dad his Miranda rights while another puts handcuffs on him. Mom glares at him from her armchair, a glass of bourbon in her hand.
As the cops push Dad toward the front door, he says, “Rachel, go look in my contacts on my phone and call Sean Silva. He’s my attorney. He’ll get this straightened out in no time. I’ll be home later.”
“She’ll do no such thing, David. You did this to yourself. You figure it out.” Mom slams her glass onto the coffee table and stands.
I follow Rach and Mom into the foyer. Dad leans toward Rachel. “Give me a hug, sweetie. It’s going to be okay.”
Rach moves behind me.
Dad glares at me. “This is your fault, you little shit. If you’d have just done what I said, none of this would be happening.”