Page 48 of A Very Addicted Christmas

She missed her fight in London. That wasn’t part of the plan, and our dad will no doubt have something to say to me when we return home.

Why’d she go with you?

I knew she shouldn’t have gone to Scotland.

You should’ve left her here, Oscar.

She already missed training days, for what? Just to be stuck there?

He’ll ramble off in Portuguese, muttering frustrations, and I’ll try to reason with him. I just hope he’s not hard on Jo. He’s way too hard on her already. It’s not likeRodrigogifted us the power to control the motherfucking weather.

“Just so you know, I wouldn’t take back extending a plus-one to my baby sis”—I hold her gaze that softens—“I wanted you here. Quinn wanted you here.”

She considers this, pushing curly pieces of hair off her shoulder. “Don’t tell Dad because he’ll be all likepriorities, Joana Raquel Sousa Oliveira,” she mimics our dad’s deeper voice, “but I wouldn’t take back joining you guys. Even if I regret missing the fight, I’m not going to regret being here.”

Her words alleviate a great weight I didn’t realize I’d been feeling. Thought that pressure was just from hunger. I inhale deeper, and I bend down a little to squeeze her shoulder.

She smiles more up at me.

I tell her, “It’s possible Dad might not even give you a five-minute lecture.”Probably just two-minutes.“You know that he wants us all together.” Which is why he ended up relenting when Joana said she was joining me and Quinn.

His sons and his daughter, all together.

“Dad wants us all together doing thefamilytrade,” she says as I take my hand off her shoulder. “There’s a difference, you know, Oscar.”

Boxing.

I made the first steps in another direction, and my baby bro followed me. For sure, it’s not the future our dad saw or wanted.

She works on her left hand-wrap. “If I can get over it, then he should too. There’ll always be another fight. I don’t know if I’ll ever get this much time with you and Quinn again.”

I begin to grin. I feel the same as Joana. This is the most time I’ve spent with my sister in…what might be years, and that’s mostly my doing.

I don’t go back home often.

“You should have this,” Jo says, reaching around her waist to something she placed on the stair. She shows off a Snickers bar.

Hunger annihilates the shock, and my stomach clenches and growls. Good God I want to eat everything under the sun.

Am I dreaming?

Last night, a giant Dorito graced me in my sleep, so I might fucking be.

But “is that a real Snickers?” is a stupid question that I don’t ask. Hunger has not turned me into a complete idiot. Something I know I’m not.

Jo is wielding gold inside our depleting rations.

“Where’d you get that?”

“My backpack. I forgot I brought it until this morning. You should take it. You look like you’re going to chew someone’s arm off.” She tosses me the Snickers, and while I’d love to shove the entire candy bar in my mouth, I can’t.

She’s my baby sis.

I want her fed first.

“You eat it or save it for another day. We might be here for another two weeks.” I can handle the stressful, pressure-cooker conditions we’re under, even if I’m starving andhangryin them.

“I’m not the pouty grump when I haven’t eaten.”

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