So. Long(189)

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.”

My hands fist at my sides and I suck in a deep breath. “I didn’t do a thing. This is all on you.”

His face reddens. “And I should have never taken in that cunt whore you couldn’t keep your dick out of to save your fuc—”

My fist connects with his face as all the built-up rage boils over at his words. Dad stumbles backward and hits the wall, slipping to the floor, his expression dazed.

One of the cops grabs my arms and pushes me away from the piece of shit crumpled on the carpet. “Sir. We need you to step back.”

I stare down at Dad over the cop’s shoulder. “Don’t you ever speak of her. Ever. You sick fuck, you don’t even deserve to think about her.”

The other cop hauls Dad to his feet and drags him out. The other officer lets go of me and follows. Mom slams the door as they cross the threshold.

She hugs me around the waist and motions for Rachel to join us. We stand holding each other together for a moment, our world upside down and sideways. I hurt for the pain they must feel, even while a huge weight seems to be lifting off my shoulders.

I squeeze Mom and Rachel before I head up the stairs.

Pulling out my phone, I text Mo.

-The cops just picked up Dad.-





I smile at the text lighting up my screen as I lay my phone on the arm of the sofa. Slade sets a glass of water on the side table and offers me a plate of food.

With a grimace, I say, “No thanks; I feel weird.”

“You know, I was reading in that book you have that morning sickness can last the entire nine months for some women. That must suck.”

I rub my temples and wiggle around, trying to get comfortable. I hold out my hand. “Give it to me. You don’t need to read that. You might start producing estrogen or something.”

He pulls the book from under his butt and shakes his head. He opens it, turning it one way and then the other, finally flipping it upside down. “There are some interesting pictures in here. Kinda makes me want to be a doctor.”

I giggle. “Yeah. Slade, the OB/Gyn.”

He frowns. “Hey. It could happen. I’m a smart guy. I could do it if I wanted to.”

I wipe off my grin. “Okay. Maybe.”

“I take it, since you’re buying prego books, you’ve decided to have the bambino?”

“Bambino?”

He shrugs, winking at me.

I inspect my nails. “Well, I’m a smart girl. I can do it if I want to.”