Page 55 of The Love of My Next Life
“All of it,” she says with a nod, then screws up her face. “It’s so weird that our parents have seen each other naked.”
“Ew, Claire.” I close my eyes and shake my head to get the thought out.
“When they get married, do I have to call Trent, Daddy?”
“Eeeew, Claire, please never call him daddy.”
She barks out a laugh, then gasps.
“Does this make my crush on him taboo?”
“Claire! You’re not allowed to crush on my dad,” I squeal, to which she laughs harder.
“Well, no, definitely not now that he’s gonna be mydaddy.”
I groan and face-plant onto her bed while she giggles. I don’t say anything. I just let her tire herself out, and soon she flops down next to me and sighs.
“There is one cool thing, though,” she breaks the silence. I hum in response. “We’re gonna be sisters,” she says.
Her voice is giddy, and for a moment, I feel it. The excitement of having a family again, one that’s larger than just me and Dad, makes me hopeful. No more spending missions and deployments worrying by myself. No more loneliness. Bigger holiday and birthday celebrations. Family meals. Family vacations.Family.
Claire might be a lot sometimes, but aren’t all sisters? I love her like she’s family already. This will just make it official. I turn my head to her and smile.
“That’ll be cool,” I say honestly, and then she bursts my fragile bubble.
“I’ll finally have a sibling that matters,” she says wistfully, and my stomach drops to my feet. I don’t say anything, and soon, Claire falls back to sleep.
I make my way down the block to my house, wearing my jeans from last night and one of Claire’s pajama shirts. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to a walk of shame. I’m not sure where the halter I was wearing went, but I’m okay with never seeing it again.
I’m halfway up my driveway when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, so I send it to voicemail. A text comes in immediately after.
It’s Casper. Answer the phone.
It rings again, and I answer it.
“Chri—er, Casper?”
“Hey, Lennon,” he says quickly. His tight voice makes me stop walking, three feet from my front door. “How fast can you get to Chesapeake?”
I’m notsure what I expected to find when I pulled up to the address Casper sent me a half hour later, but a drunk, stumbling Macon, throwing eggs at a very large, very expensive looking two-story brick house wasn’t on my list of possibilities.
Casper was adamant—do not tell Claire.
Now I understand why.
I put the car in park, just as Macon bends over and picks up a bottle of brown liquor, takes a long swig, then hurls it at the house. It hits the brick with a loud SMASH, narrowly missing a large picture window, and I’m out my door and running toward him before he can throw anything else.
“Come out here, you motherfucker!” Macon screams at the house. “Deadbeat son of a bitch! COME OUT HERE.”
“Macon,” I shout, grabbing his arm just as he tries to throw another egg. “Macon, stop!”
He shakes me off and I fall back on my ass. He throws the egg, hitting the front door right in the middle.
“Go home,Leonard,” he yells over his shoulder, picking up another egg from a carton at his feet. I jump up and dart forward, stepping on the carton and crushing the last few eggs with my ballet flat so he can’t throw any more of them.
“What the fuck?” he shouts, whirling on me. “Stay the fuck out of it, Lennon!”
“You’re going to get your dumb ass arrested,” I hiss, just as the door to the house opens and then slams. I look up to see a very angry older man on the front steps. He’s scowling, vibrating with fury, and he has a phone in his hand.
