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Katherine: You’re such a good plant dad.
My grin stretches from ear to ear. He’s really taken to that little succulent. Is it possible to explode from giddiness? If we keep this up, I might find out.
28
KINGSTON
I’m almost to my sister’s door when my phone vibrates in my pocket, followed by a robotic voice proclaiming ‘text message.’ That’s the tone I set for Gabe, which humors me to no end. I really should set up more personal text tones for people.
I wrestle the packages in my arms and retrieve my phone, ridiculously eager. Which is something I’ll have to dissect later.
Gabe’s name pops up in the little bubble across the bottom of the screen and sends relief through me since he’s been radio silent for over twenty-four hours. And at the same time, my jaw flexes because I don’t like what that means.
In fact, I freaking hate that the man ghosted me, and now that he’s popping back in my messages, I’m gleeful.
That doesn’t stop me from tapping the bubble and reading his message.
Gabe: thanks for the suggestions. I’ll pass them along.
My lips twist and relax, pleased and annoyed. With him. With myself. With everything about this day. Except for the pictures. Those came out amazing. It never fails to surprise me just how much a competent photographer can do for an already incredible shot.
Focus.
Kingston: Look who’s alive.
Three dots pop up immediately, as if he was awaiting my response. There’s that fissure of pleasure again. But then the dots disappear. Why I read so much into that, I don’t know.
But I do.
I felt like we were on this wild ride together, and he suddenly hopped off the train. Now the brakes have given out and I’m racing down the mountain, alone.
Okay, that’s a bit dramatic.
A lot dramatic.
My thumb hovers over the screen. I want to say something else. Something that doesn’t sound so bitchy. So needy. But I’m not sure what.
So I slip my phone into my pocket and hustle the last half block to Ava’s place.
She opens the door all of two seconds after I knock, a wide smile on her face. Uh-oh. I’m immediately on high alert because when are any of my SisMonstersthishappy to see me?
“Hey! Come in.” She waves me into her apartment.
She plucks the bags of our favorite Chinese food from my arms and steps back so I can cross the threshold. Ava’s place is spacious with raw brick details. Her style is cozy and colorful. She reminds me so much of Mom with her love of patterns and zest for life.
I follow her to the living room, which is open to the kitchen and the dining table beyond. Vibrant paintings dot the walls, but all her plants are fake. No time to baby things, she once told me.
Which also explains the lack of a man in her life. And yes, I do find it ironic that I told Wildfire I don’t need a babysitter.
I’ve lived on my own, thriving for years.
So when did I become a needy puppy, reliant on a pack?
She glances at me over her shoulder, big brown eyes keen with worry. “Why do you look like someone stole your yacht?”
I bark a laugh. “I don’t have a yacht.”
She waves a hand. “You know what I mean.”