Page 101 of Before We Fell

The doorbell rang. I couldn’t even make out the shape of his body outside.

Then the pounding. “Lola Lu-lu,” he called.

I shivered at the stupid nickname. He’d given it to me one day when he was thirteen. Drunk. Probably stoned. He’d laughed so hard at himself and the way he slurred my name he fell off the couch and cut his head open on the sharp edge of the coffee table. He hadn’t needed stitches, but I’d been the one to clean him up.

I was four and he’d been left in charge of babysitting me. A few months later he was gone.

I was opening the door. And I was ending this madness. Every few years Travis, drunk or high out of his mind, figured he could show up, ask for money, and he still thought I was like my parents, easily swayed by his slurred pleas admitting he knew he needed help.

I should have counted myself fortunate that the last time I saw him was when I was in college.

That he obviously knew what house was mine, made me re-think Halloween. It still made no sense that all he would take was a picture unless he was checking to see if it was my place first.

“Get Riley and go call the cops, Noah. He won’t hurt me.”

Noah’s jaw clenched.

More pounding at the door. I cringed. Damn it. He pounded any harder and the glass could shatter.

“I’m coming!” I shouted through the door.

“Oh, Lola Lu-lu. I knew I could count on you.” He sang the words to music only he could hear.

“Count on me to send your ass to jail,” I muttered.

“Lauren—”

“No. Noah. He’s my family. I’ll deal with this, okay?”

“Lauren?” Riley stepped into view. My heart was racing. Her little face pale as she clutched a glass ornament. “Who is that?”

“Nobody you need to see. Can you do me a favor and go to the bedroom with your uncle?”

Her chin wobbled. Noah, giving up, curled his hand around her shoulder. “Come on, Riley.”

I didn’t wait to see if they’d left.

Another forceful round of pounding and I turned the knob, yanked the door opened.

Travis stuttered and fell forward. Apparently he was either leaning on the door, or I’d popped it while he was mid-knock.

He fell to his hands and knees on my floor and bile rose in my throat.

Good God. The years had not been kind to him.

His shoulder-length hair was greasy and slicked back, large chunks hung in his face. His fingers were bruised, fingernails black. Pockmarks were all over his face and when he smiled, yellow, crooked teeth grinned at me. “Happy Thanksgiving, Lola Lu.”

I flinched and felt my face scrunch up. Oh my God. He was bad. So much worse than I ever could have predicted. His eyes, so much like mine when sober, were glassy, pupils so dilated it was a wonder he could see. His eyes were so bloodshot it was a miracle there were any whites to his eyes left, and when he blinked, slowly…so so slowly, it was a miracle they opened again.

“Yes, this is Noah Wilkes. Thirteen Oak Drive. We’re in need of police and possible medical assistance.”

At the word police, Travis clambered to his knees. He swayed back and forth.

My gaze darted to Noah. He held Riley now, but she was behind him. Her face white as snow and she had her monstrously huge eyes staring at my brother.

He lowered his voice, but his glare stayed fixed on Travis. No way was he leaving me alone now. A quick glance in my direction told me that.

The word police must have filtered through my brother’s drug-addled brain. “Aww, come on, Lola. You know Ma doesn’t like it when you call da cops on me.” He slurred so bad it came out as one word. It took me a moment to put it all together.

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