Page 143 of The Story of You

Wow. “And you went cat shopping with my boyfriend for me. Thanks, Dad.”

He smiles a real smile.

I pick up the closest kitten—it’s Romeo—and snuggle his nose. He smells like a new kitten.

“I’m going to be the mean and evil stepdad that says no kittens while we eat breakfast,” Lakshan says.

Si—Dadshakes his head. “Just for today, he can. Try not to let cat hair get in the food.”

Romeo mewls at me. I’m too distracted and in love to eat. Everyone lets me bask in my kitten glory.

* * *

Oliver

Iget spoiled to hell as usual. There’s a flood of gifts from Dad and Lakshan. Darius got me a mountain of his own—if he doesn’t want me spoiled, maybe he shouldn’t spoil me either—and more from Julius on top of the kitten and the early gift of Valenciana.

Wyatt, the more sensible of the pack, only got me one gift, but it was a thoughtful one. “I knew you were gonna get a lot of expensive stuff from these guys, but I noticed when I was in the gym, your dance barre could use an upgrade, so I made one for you.”

Dad was horrified that he hadn’t noticed, but dance barres aren’t his thing. I’m supposed to tell him if it needs replacing. I assured him it wasn’t broken or dangerous. Just … getting to the point it needed new.

After he calmed down, Wyatt said he’d install it before we went to the party at Simon and Shane’s and … I guess Asher’s? I think he’s staying now. I hope he is. He’s one of us. I’m extra reminded of that reading about him.

It’s time for me to get ready. I plan on decking myself out with make-up, lots of pink, and probably a dress. Maybe even a long blond wig to drive Julius crazy—I haven’t done that in a while. It’ll take hours.

Lakshan stole Romeo. I’ve got Giulietta with me. She’s going to get a gorgeous bow.

The doorbell rings. It’s weird because it’s Sunday. No mail. “I’ll get it,” I call. I’m closest to the door.

I peer out of the keyhole like I was taught—everyone will kill me if I don’t. Even if it’s Shane on the other side and he knows I didn’t check, I’ll hear it. I thought they were all crazy before. Now I know where their paranoia comes from.

No one’s there but looks like there’s a package. Did someone drop off something for my birthday?

Opening the door, I stand with Giulietta mewling for me to get back inside, gazing passed the porch to the driveway and front yard. Still no one, but a wave of gooseflesh rises over the expanse of my skin. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

I snatch up the package and run inside like someone’s chasing me. I slam the door shut and lock every lock. Fuck. What was that?

The package is a small cube about the thickness of a yoga block, wrapped in brown parcel paper. It’s addressed to Silas Randall.

It’s in Randall script.

All the Randalls I know are here, but there’s one who isn’t and that’s Uncle Pax. After what happened the other day with him, I’d love to stuff this away in a closet until at least after the party. I’d be double murdered though by Dad and Darius. I just got amazing kittens. I want to live to see them tomorrow.

I turn whence I came, from the kitchen. Darius, Wyatt, and Julius are cleaning up from breakfast. Dad’s on somewhere around his fifth cup of coffee, whispering something in Lakshan’s ear that makes him smile. Lakshan has Romeo on his lap who’s conked out.

“Who was at the door?” Darius says. When he sees my face, he gives a funny look. I’m sure my forehead is creased between my brows.

Dad looks up. “Eaglet? What’s wrong?”

I take a breath. My heart’s beating so fast. Why’s it beating so fast? “I think Uncle Pax left something for you.”

Dad is up—laying a quick kiss on Lakshan’s lips—and over to me so fast. “I told him not to come here anymore. Let’s see, Oliver.”

I give him the package. He looks. He turns into a statue. When he comes to life again, it’s with quiet, burning fire. “Twenty-five,” he whispers. “Fuck.Fuck.We have to go. We have to leave. Now.” He goes into robot mode. His icy-blue eyes are set on me. He grabs my wrist in a crushing grip.

“Oww. Dad, you’re hurting me.”

Dad’s gone though. The cold harpy’s in his place. Is this what he looked like that day at the hospital? No wonder the social worker lady backed off.