Page 15 of Reclaiming Adelaide

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Lost my opportunity to cleanse my mind of worry. “Spilled my foundation.”

“Okay, well, you have a visitor.”

I groaned. “Coming.”

“When you’re done, your father and I need to talk to you.”

A ‘family meeting,’ as Monica called it. I wonder howher‘meeting’ went? I hadn’t heard from her since she’d forced me to buy the damn test. Then everything hit the fan, and she became an afterthought.

“Okay,” I grumbled.

I gathered the test, resolving to take it later when my bladder filled back up. When my bedroom door clicked shut, I exited my bathroom and stuffed everything back inside my backpack, then zipped it up.

Glancing down at my dirty sweats, I carefully pulled them off and stripped my shirt over my head.

A deep purple bruise covered my hip bone like a bullseye where I’d fallen. It matched the one on my shoulder where the truck mirror hit me. I closed my eyes and winced as I lifted my arms above my head and slipped on a loose t-shirt, followed by sweats.

After tying my shoes, I grabbed my backpack and slunk out my bedroom door, but not before giving Fruity a few bloodworms and saying goodbye.

“He’s on the porch. I didn’t want him coming inside, given everything that’s happened,” my mom said as I hit the top of the steps.

“Okay.”

I stepped outside and stared at a man in his mid-thirties. He stood with his hands tucked into his pants pockets, his gaze tipped to the floor, which had his flaxen hair hanging in front of his face in natural waves. It was a hairstyle I hadn’t seen since my mother showed me a CD of Hanson.

“Can I help you?”

The man looked at me with sky-blue eyes. His bushy brows pushed together when he saw me. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

I raised a brow and adjusted my pack. “Um… thanks? I think.”

A thin mustache covered a portion of his cupid’s bow, accenting his upper lip as he smiled, sending chills running up my spine.

“Who are you?”

He walked towards me with his hand out. I stared at him as if he had leprosy, then put his hand down when I didn’t take it. “I’m Franklin.” He tucked his hand back into his pocket.

“I don’t know a Franklin.” I shouldered past him and down the porch.

“You know me as ButCrysis.”

5

“Youhavesomenerve,”I murmured as I turned on my heel and poked his chest with my finger. “You’re lucky I don’t break your fucking nose, you bully.”

He put his hands up. “I’m sorry. I suffer from inadequacy stemming from a poor childhood, and it causes me to be hateful to the people who I like but don’t return the affection,” he said with a smirk.

I scoffed. “Is that what your therapist told you?” I rolled my eyes and dropped my finger. “How did you find me, anyway?”

He shook his head and bowed his hands to his sides as he shrugged his shoulders. “Not that hard, really.”

Goddammit.

I waited for him to explain. Instead, he placed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.

Helpful.

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