Page 4 of Please Open Me
Pink for Juniper, blue for Jasper, clear for me, black for Lucian. She also made lunch for Cameron and Sophia, but seeing as they both worked from home, she didn’t pack them up. Still, I was sure they got the same, almost obsessive amount of love we got.
Strawberries cut in half and watermelon hearts for Juniper. Sunbutter sandwiches cut into dinosaurs for Jasper. Tofu wraps and a stockpile of protein bars for Lucian, he had the same awful habit of forgetting to eat as Mason did, and this was her way of making sure he didn’t pass out. And mine, in addition to the dairy-free cheese sticks, had a sticky note with a crudely drawn cigarette and the wordnobeside it.
I huffed out a quiet laugh and put Rosie in her walker, which was surprisingly hard with only one free hand. She immediately began fussing and reaching for me with grabby hands, but I ignored her, taking a bite of my bacon and making myself a cup of coffee.
“Pills, both of you,” Cameron ordered.
In unison, Mason and I let out exasperated groans.
Cameron didn’t even look up from the skillet, instead, he opened the cabinet door. The one beside the stove was too small to be useful for anythingotherthan our medication.
“Groan all you want, they’re good for you,” he said to no one in particular.
Normally, Sophia would grab the pill sorters and hand them to us, but this morning she was mysteriously missing. I stopped for a moment and looked around as I shoved the rest of my bacon in my mouth. My brow creased. While her absence was strange, it wasn’t exactly unheard of, so I filled her spot and grabbed our medication from the cabinet.
I shook the containers, enjoying the way the pills rattled against the plastic. Popping the top off of myThursdayslot, I extended it toward Mason.
“Cheers?” I offered.
She rolled her eyes and begrudgingly opened hers. She didn’t like being medicated, and neither did I. But, it helped.
Besides, she should be grateful. All she had was an antidepressant now and birth control later. I had three or four pills to swallow down. I wasn’t sure which was which, but if I stopped to think about it, I wouldn’t take them. Instead, I tipped the sorter back, dumped the contents into my mouth, and swallowed them with a mouthful of coffee. Mason swallowed hers dry like some sort of fucking psycho.
Mason returned to her task, zipping the lunch boxes before pushing them to the edge of the counter just in time for Lucian to walk in and kiss her. My eyes shot down to the silver band on his left hand, the one encircled with emeralds. My stomach twisted, not in jealousy like it used to, but more in a strange sense of longing.
I no longer wanted to marry Mason. We just weren’t like that anymore, perhaps we never were. Weirdly enough, I had come to view her as a best friend that I fucked and loved with my entire being. I knew that she and I were meant to be together, but when I pictured my wedding, I didn’t see her walking down the aisle.
Slowly, my gaze shifted toward Cameron. Butterflies erupted in my chest, tickling my heart and making me smile. He didn’t believe in marriage—at least, that’s what he said. But that didn’t stop me from dreaming about giving him my last name.
I covered my mouth to prevent anyone else from seeing my dumb-ass grin as I imagined a world where Cameron would accept my proposal, but my fantasy shattered when my brother opened his stupid fucking mouth.
“What time are you coming to work today?” he asked, plucking a watermelon scrap off the cutting board.
God, whoever taught Lucian to speak owed me an apology.
“Uh, same time as always?” I said slowly, needing to make sure my one and only brother wasn’t having a senior moment.
“Uh, no you’re not?” He snorted around a full mouth of fruit. Juice coated his lower lip, and he wiped it with the back of his hand before swallowing. “Thursdays you have therapy. Why doIhave to remind you?”
My stomach dropped to the floor as my lashes fluttered shut.
Oh, yeah. That.
Chapter 2
Sebastian
For better or worse, the walls of Saint Samael’s never changed.
The cold, the weathered greystone, the overwhelming stench of incense. Flickering candlelight was necessary to illuminate the sanctuary; the ornate stained glass windows were rendered useless by the gloom that plagued northern Maine.
I kept my head down, zipped my hoodie up to my neck, and tiptoed along the edge of the pews. Not because I was afraid, but because I had a system. Enter late, leave early. Never speak first. Never draw attention unless I had to.
The church was mostly empty today. Only the core group of worshipers were here, each of them shrouded in those white muslin robes I despised. Hoods obscured their faces, and their hands lay folded in their laps. Most of them never looked at me. Not until I spoke. That was part of it.
The only one who met my eyes was a girl around my age, with dark hair and fox-like features. She was new to the congregation, and according to Dale, she had yet to learn the ways of the Sons of Christ.
From what I’d been told, the prophet wasn’t to sneak in, he was to arrive. No one should look at him until spoken to, as they weren’t holy enough to behold such as me without explicit permission.
