Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“Gremlins,” Rose scolds.
“Mauvaise soirée, mes enfants,” I say with the raise of my brows. Bad evening, my children.
Audrey rests the back of her hand to her forehead. “I’m feeling faint.”
“I’m sure you are,” Rose says icily.
“Hi, Mom. Dad,” Ben says with a warm smile. “Welcome home?”
“The home you destroyed.” Rose tilts her head to me. “What do you say, Connor? Has it been a welcome homecoming?”
“More inhospitable—”
“I can explain,” Ben professes. “We were going to clean this up before you came home. We promise.”
“So you were afraid of being caught?” I question.
“Yes,” Audrey claims, right as Ben says, “No.” He adds, “I didn’t set out to destroy the house, and I felt badly you had to come home to this.” He locks his gaze with mine. “But that’s not the answer you wanted to hear, is it?”
“It is, because it’s yours.”
Ben eases.
He knows he gave me an altruistic reason. It’s not self-serving, but there is no cost to listening to his heart in this situation. I admire this about him, but there’ve been times where I do fear for my son—the one who’d rush into wildfire where a thousand consequences lie before taking a clear path that benefits him.
Ben scrapes a hand through his flour-dusted hair. “I’m not scared of being caught, but I am sorry about the house.”
I lean a hip against the doorway. “Were you also planning to clean the broken table?”
Rose hasn’t unthreaded her arms. “Or how about the destruction left in the backyard? It looks like a battle zone.”
“We were under siege, Mother,” Audrey says like she rehearsed this part.
“And which of your friends aided in the destruction inside the house?” Rose asks, perching her hands on her hips.
Ben pales and shifts his weight. “They didn’t …only family came into the house.”
Rose squints at him.
“I’m telling the truth, Mom.”
“’Tis true,” Audrey says quietly, her fingers to her lips. Her gaze drifts to the left, and I study her longer. She teeters on her feet, and more concern tightens my muscles. Ben steadies his sister with a hand to her shoulder.
Rose skims her up and down. Worry bathes her yellow-green eyes. “How much did you drink?”
“What do you mean?” Audrey plants her hands on the island counter. “I didn’t drink anything.”
Ben looks between us. “They already know, Audrey. There’s no point.”
Audrey frowns. “Already knows what?”
“Everything,” Ben says and turns to me for clarification. “Right? Akara must have told you.”
“Not everything,” I say.
“We know Audrey threw a pre-birthday bash,” Rose explains. “And it was crashed by other students at Dalton. But that’s about all.”
“Great,” Ben mutters under his breath.
Audrey hiccups. I narrow my eyes on her and cock my head.
She puts a hand to her lips. “My hiccups betray me.”
“Mon petit, there’s a lot here betraying you right now. It’s not only your hiccups,” I tell her. She wobbles again, and Ben puts his other hand on her shoulder, dropping his dustpan.
I come around the island. Rose goes to the sink and soaks a clean dishcloth.
“Maybe you should go sit down?” Ben says to Audrey, then looks to me. “She threw up practically all night, and she was passed out like ten minutes ago.”
Audrey swings her head to him. “Traitor.”
I inspect my daughter, her eyes more angry than distant, but her skin is pallid and she’s noticeably sweating.
Ben says, “You look terrible. Would you rather suffer?”
“Yes!” Audrey yells dramatically.
Ben sighs.
Rose turns off the faucet. “Your brother is right. You need to sit.”
I guide Audrey to the breakfast table, and I pull out a chair. She reluctantly plops down and then sets a glare on her brother from across the kitchen.
“What did you drink?” I ask Audrey as I go to the fridge.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Rose and I say in unison.
She pouts. “Punch. Spiked punch.”
“What was in the punch?” Rose snaps and comes to Audrey with the washcloth. She gently dabs at Audrey’s sweaty cheeks and forehead.
Audrey shuts her eyes like this is a spa treatment.
Rose looks mildly amused, and I smile while I collect a sports drink with electrolytes. I shut the fridge.
“What was in the punch?” Rose asks again, this time taking away the cold cloth.
“I-I don’t know. A lot of ingredients, I believe.”
“Who made it?” I question, untwisting the Ziff bottle.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“You are because you have a tongue,” Rose retorts.
I add, “And if you made the punch yourself, you should know what’s in it.”
Audrey tries to give her mother doe eyes, silently pleading for the spa treatment again.
Rose shakes her head repeatedly. “You should never drink disgusting mystery punch or something unopened that some stranger has handed you. How many times have I told you and your siblings that?”
Ben watches us interrogate his sister while he wipes flour off the counter and into a trash bag. I haven’t forgotten about him. I never could. I never would.