Page 145 of Chaos at Westbrook High

We’re going to be okay.

Epilogue

KAI

Ten years later

“Dad, I need a new phone,” Quinn says, resting her forearms on the island opposite us.

Wren almost spits his water out.

Sloane, Quinn’s twin sister, snaps her head up in our direction. My three year old daughter, Maeve, is sitting on her lap on the living room floor, an unplugged PlayStation controller in her tiny hands as they play video games together.

Damon and Callie pretend to mind their business while Damon makes pancakes—still our Friday morning tradition—and Callie sets the dining room table, their two boys running circles around it.

I smile at my fumbling twin brother while my five year old daughter, Blakely, tries to braid my hair while I hold her on my hip.

Struggling not to choke, Wren does his best to compose himself. “I’m not buying you another phone, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

“That’s the second one you’ve broken this year.”

She pouts. “It was an accident this time.”

He huffs. The girl’s got the Kingston temper. The last time she broke her phone, it was because some girl at school hollered across the cafeteria that she and Sloane aren’t real Kingstons, they’re the Kingston’s trash. After seeing the hurt in her sister’s eyes, she threw the first thing she could get her hands on at the girl, that thing being her phone. She felt awful about it afterwards. Not about the girl's head, but about breaking the phone Wren and Levi bought her when she started high school.

“Please.”

Wren pinches the bridge of his nose, and I do my best not to laugh. It’s killing him to say no to her.

Four years ago, when the twins were eleven, their foster mother died of an overdose. Before the police showed up, the girls made a run for it, terrified they’d be separated in the system. Wren and Callie found them on the street two days later, starving, filthy, and alone. Quinn begged them not to call the police, so they didn’t. They brought them home instead. Wren was a mess. The thought of those girls being torn apart made him sick, and I knew why. We would have run away too if we had been in their situation when we were their age.

Wren and Levi had to fight like hell for them. Their piece of shit biological father came looking for them when he found out they were staying with the Kingstons, and shit got messy. But they eventually won and adopted them three months later. Wren and Levi asked if they wanted to change their last names to Kingston, and they eventually said yes. Well, Quinn said yes for both of them after they spoke about it privately for a while. Sloane’s not mute, but she doesn’t speak in front of anyone but her sister.

The elevator opens, and Levi walks in with his hands full of shopping bags. After slipping Sloane a new pair of headphones and earning a grin from her, he drops a brand new iPhone box into Quinn’s hands. Quinn beams at him as Wren throws his hands up, exasperated.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Levi mutters. “How am I supposed to track them if they don’t have phones?”

“You track us?”

“If it was legal to chip you, I would.”

Quinn’s nostrils flare. “Like dogs?”

He grins. “Exactly.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re welcome.”

A smile touches Quinn’s lips as she holds the box to her chest. “Thank you,” she says sincerely.

Her dads smile back at her.

“Did you get me something?” Damon and Callie’s four year old son, Travis, asks Levi.

“I wouldn’t forget you, T.” He passes him one of the bags before bumping his little fist.

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