Page 40 of Sweet Anarchy

"Speaking of… where would he sleep?" Asher asks. "Because it's not fair if he gets to camp in with you and the rest of us don't."

"Look," I start. "I don't know the logistics. Maybe he sleeps down here. I don't know. I'm just trying to think of solutions until this mess gets sorted."

Asher picks up his controller, resuming his game. "Fine. But he needs to help clean up. I'm not picking up after everyone."

"When do you even clean?" Blake snorts.

Asher ignores him, fingers smashing the keys as he focuses on the tv screen. I look at Blake, giving him a thankful smile.

"You're so good to me," I tease, but there's sincerity to my tone.

Blake leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I know. Which is why I'm your favorite."

I jump when Zayn kisses the spot behind my ear. "We both know I'm your favorite."

"Okay, stop it," I tell them, standing up. "I don't have time to be distracted by your dicks. I have to go tell my Mother about it and we all know how well that's going to go down."

Asher snorts. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks," I grumble, heading towards the stairs. "If I don't come back soon, I've been murdered. Avenge me."

I find Mom in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, sorting through a box. She looks up as I knock, letting out a sigh.

"I was just looking for my old couture perfume and found these photos."

Walking into the room, I look down at the box, noticing all the developed photos of us.

"I forgot real photos used to be a thing," I mumble, picking a blurry polaroid and letting out a smile.

It's a photo of my Dad and I at the beach when I was around seven. I'm sitting on his shoulders, grinning from ear to ear with an ice cream cone in my hand.

"Yes, well, technology certainly changed that," Mom says, neatly packing some photos back away. "Did you need something?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, doing my best to keep this civil.

"I wanted to chat to you about something."

Mom lets out a dry laugh. "It must be serious. You don't chat to me about anything, anymore."

"When are you going to stop punishing me?" I ask, putting the photo down.

"What am I punishing you for?" Mom questions, looking exasperated.

I step back, creating some distance between us. "For not being the perfect daughter."

"I don't know, Rylee," she sighs. "I just feel like you were there one minute, and gone the next. I don't know how to have this relationship anymore."

I nod, sadly understanding what she means.

"I'm still your daughter," I tell her softly. "I'm just not doing the things you used to love. But I'm still me."

"Grief changes people," she murmurs quietly. "I know I changed too. I just kind of expected you'd follow in my footsteps."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I lean on my knees. "I was just a teenager, Mom. We grieved differently. There's nothing wrong with that. But I don't think the way I'm living my life these days has anything to do with grief now. I'm just trying to be happy. That's all any of us can ask for."

"I want you to be happy, Rylee. But is this truly what you want? I just don't understand it. We left for a few months and suddenly you and Asher like each other. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled you are finally getting along. But if we had returned and found you had both killed each other, I would have been less surprised."

I laugh, genuinely laugh. "I still want to kill him sometimes. But he helped me through a lot, Mom. We grew together. And Zayn and Blake… they are really special too. They get me, you know what I mean?"

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