Page 109 of Please Open Me
Lucian let out a wheeze that barely counted as a laugh. He swiped sweat from his face, smearing it across his ashen skin.
“Not strep,” he croaked.
“Then what?” I jammed the key into the lock, only for it to stick.
He leaned against the banister like it was the only thing keeping him upright. And though I hated my brother, I worried about him. If only just a little.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” I asked through gritted teeth as I slammed my shoulder into the door.
It didn’t budge. Just sent pain ripping through my chest.
Lucian’s lips pursed. He scratched at the stubble along his jaw. Before he could answer, Sophia emerged from the truck. Her baby blues scanned him once with surgical precision—then her face twisted into the ugliest expression I’d ever seen on her.
“Are you fucking using again?” she bellowed, taking the stairs two at a time.
Lucian flinched at Sophia's unusually strong language, then closed his eyes, head tilting away.
“Please, keep your voice down,” he whispered.
“Oh my God, you totally are!” Her words shook with a mix of rage and fear.
I just wanted inside. Part of me considered throwing a rock through a window if it meant escape.
Their voices clashed behind me like divorcing parents mid-argument.
Desperately, I wiggled the key back and forth. I shoved so hard the brass should’ve snapped, but miraculously it didn’t. When the lock finally clicked, the sound cracked like gunfire. I didn’t care. I was going to get inside, away from this fight, find Mason, and—
My thoughts halted at the sound of a car climbing my driveway.
Begrudgingly, I looked back just in time to see Leona’s husband, Atticus, park behind Cameron’s truck.
An inky feeling washed down my back as I watched him step out of his SUV. Normally, Atticus was a well-dressed man. He’d actually been the one who taught me how to pick a suit, have it tailored to look more like a man and less like a kid playing dress-up. But right now, he wore what looked like his pajamas from last night. They were still rumpled from sleep—or, judging by the dark circles under his eyes, lack thereof. In his hands was a large manila envelope, and I couldn’t imagine it containedanythinggood.
The squabbling behind me stopped as he approached us, halting at the bottom of my steps like the very idea of standing near the three of us would be enough for Leona to rip his head off.
“Where’s Cameron?” he asked, glancing around as if my boyfriend would randomly appear.
Sophia smoothed her hair, collecting herself before turning to face Atticus. I thought she was about to spin some long-winded story to make him leave, but she continued to surprise me.
“Why?” she asked.
Atticus paused a moment before threading his fingers through his hair.
“I… Mason wanted to talk to him before I delivered this.” He glanced down at the envelope.
“What is this?” I extended a hand, but Atticus pulled the documents close to his chest.
“I really don’t want to give it to you, so if Cameron is here, I think you should let him go talk to Mason.”
“I’ll go talk to Mason,” I offered.
But Atticus shook his head.
“I don’t know what happened last night, but I know Mason is distraught, and Leona is in full-on mama-bear mode. And I’m not getting in the middle of it.” He sounded almost as fed up as I felt.
“And why not?”
“Because Mason asked me not to.” He leveled his eyes at me, shoulders squared like he’d braced for a punch. “She doesn’t want you, or Lucian, orSophia near her. She doesn’t want you guys near the kids. She doesn’t feel safe right now. And before she does anything official, she just wants to talk to—”
