Page 89 of Oh, Puck!
"I CAN'T SIT DOWN, DECLAN, WE'RE GOING ON THE ROAD!We're on a winning streak and we're going on the road!This is the best day of my entire life and you're acting like we're going to a funeral!"
Biscuit, who's been tracking Beck's frantic laps around the kitchen island like he's watching a tennis match, lets out one sharp, panicked bark and immediately squats on the hardwood.
"Beck!"
"That's not my fault, that's abiological responseto excitement—"
"It's piss, Beck. He's pissing on the flooragainbecause you won't stop jumping around like a fucking wind-up toy."
Diego appears from the corridor with a roll of paper towels already pre-torn, a look of supreme, weary patience etched into every line of his face.
"This is the third time this week," he mutters, dropping to one knee to handle the mess. "I should bill the dog separately."
I turn back to my open suitcase on the counter, only for a folded stack of shirts to come sailing across the kitchen and smack me directly in the chest.
"Diego."
"Pack them!" he calls from the floor. "A man canneverhave enough clothes, Declan!"
"It's a goddamn hockey road trip. Not a military deployment."
"You think they have proper laundry service at thesehotels? I have heardhorrorstories. Pack. The. Shirts."
I shove them in, mostly to make him stop throwing things at me, and zip the bag half-closed before Diego can launch a second wave.
Across the island, Mason's the only person in this entire house behaving like a functioning adult. He's got a bowl of yogurt and granola in front of him, his duffel already packed and sitting by the door like he did it calmly forty-five minutes ago. He's casually thumbing away at his phone with this small, soft little smile.
I narrow my eyes at him. "Who the fuck are you texting this early?"
His thumbs freeze and the smile vanishes like that time I caught him with his hand down his pants.
"Zoey," he says, way too fast, sliding the phone face-down on the counter. "Yeah, it's Zoey. We've been texting all morning. You know… about thestuff."
I'm two seconds from calling bullshit when the tablet on the wall chimes, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.
"ZOEY MORRISON calling," the British robot's voice sings. "Swipe to accept."
The three of us stop what we're doing and stare at each other.
Fuck.
The last time her name lit up a screen like that, she told us something that changedallour lives forever. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it for five days.
About Mom. About Zoey.
About the way she fuckingcriedlike I've never seen before, all while trying to make sense of what was going on back home.
My sister. The strongest woman I've ever known, brought to tears by our parents careless actions.
I haven't stopped thinking about it since.
I haven't told Josie. I don't know what to say.
I don't know how to explain why I've been so distant.
Maybe because I don't know how to deal with this shit right now. Because for the first time in my life, I was finally starting to feelhappyfor myself, and then my asshole father decided to go ahead and fuck it all up again.
I swipe to answer before Beck can dive across the room and beat me to it.
