Page 174 of A Little Complicated

“Aw, don’t cry, Ophelia.” He pulls me into another hug.

I burrow into his chest, stealing his warmth. His comfort. And his acceptance.

“You really are perfect, Archer,” I whisper.

“Gotta give my brother something to aspire to, right?” He lets me go, giving me a wink, reminding me way too much of his twin, who’s still asleep on the couch.

“Well, you’re nailing it,” I tell him, waving my hand around to showcase him fully. “All this? Perfection.”

“Mm-hmm,” he grunts dryly. “Thanks for taking care of him for me.”

With a tiny curtsy, I say, “Glad I can be of service.”

“I’m serious.” He steps closer, dropping his voice an octave. “He might act like he’s the strong one, Lia, but he needs you.”

I sober and fold my arms as my gaze falls to the lump on the couch who’s oblivious we’re talking about him. Turning back to Archer, I murmur, “I know.”

He pulls me into one more hug. “Get some sleep. I’ll text you when I land.” Then, he lets me go.

“Love you, Arch.”

“Love you, Lia.” He gives me one last smile and heads down the hall toward his bedroom.

After watching him disappear, I go back to the family room, grab a knitted blanket from the back of the couch, and snuggle against Maverick’s chest as the rest of our friends snore quietly around us.

* * *

Buzzingfrom a silenced phone wakes me a little while later. Rubbing at my tired eyes, I search the couch cushions for my phone but find Maverick’s instead. Aunt Mia’s calling.

Patting Maverick’s pec, I whisper, “Hey.” He’s still out cold, so I nudge him harder. “Mav, wake up. Your mom’s calling.”

With a yawn, he takes the phone and answers it, tossing his opposite arm over his eyes to block out the cell phone’s light in the dark family room.

“Hello?” he croaks.

His forehead scrunches, then his eyes widen, and he sits up fully, causing the knitted blanket to fall onto his lap. “What?”

Pause.

“Wait, say that again.”

Pause.

“Mom, slow down. What’s going on?” He stands up and starts pacing in what little space isn’t littered with our friends’ prone bodies.

They’re all sprawled out on the ground, having fallen asleep while watchingGame of Throneslike Maverick and I did. They start to stir as Maverick’s voice raises, causing panic to claw at my insides.

“That’s not possible,” he argues. “He’s here. I was with him last night.”

“Mav, what’s going on?” I whisper. Pushing to my feet, I step in front of him and block his path with two hands pressed against his chest.

Ignoring me, he squeezes his eyes shut. “No. It’s not—” He clears his throat. “It’s not possible.”

Pause.

“No, Mom, I can’t—”

Pause.

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