Page 16 of Fractured Constellations
“Actually, we are. I repeat, my health is none of your damn business.” I’ve still got that fake smile in place, but it’s getting harder to keep it there, and if I don’t get out of here soon, I may just crumble at their feet.
“It is when you collapse at parties we took you to,” Chase comments, and it’s the lack of tone or inflection that almost makes me lose it. Yet somehow, I manage to keep it together.
Walking past Blade, I step right up to the opposite side of the island from Chase. “Then don’t take me to any more parties. Problem solved.”
Then with my head held high, I spin on my heel, which is a fucking mistake, because I wobble, swaying on my feet and having to grasp the counter behind me for a moment for support. Thorn takes a step towards me, but I hold my hand up, not saying a thing as I straighten up before walking out of the room, my spinning head held high.
“FACEDOWN” BY CHASE ATLANTIC
CHASE
We all watch Luna as she walks out of the door. She’s still shaky, still a little unsteady on her feet, and I want to snarl at her to sit the fuck down before she falls over. Not that I care about her. It just would get messy if she were to collapse again. Father would be displeased at the drama of it, even if he seems to continually dismiss her. Yes, that’s the reason.
“Migraines don’t cause those symptoms.” Blade is straight to the point as usual, but there’s something about his tone,something that sounds a little bit like the worry that is tightening my gut.
“Maybe she has anxiety? That would explain a lot,” Thorn says, his tea-making abandoned as we try to figure out the puzzle that is Luna Wilder.
Sighing, I tell them what I’ve learned this morning, even if I don’t want to question why the need to discover what lies behind Luna’s symptoms is bothering me. “I called Richard’s assistant. Luna’s mother has been taking her to ‘appointments’ weekly.”
“Therapy appointments, probably. If it is anxiety,” Blade comments. He’s spoken the most I’ve heard him since Luna and her mother appeared in our lives. It’s nice hearing my brother’s voice again. He gets too in his head, isolates himself from the rest of us too often. Has done so ever since Mom died.
“Whatever it is, she’s terrified of us finding out. She gets a deer-in-headlights look whenever it comes up.” That’s unexpectedly insightful for Thorn, who’s usually the party playboy type, not really concerned with anyone else. It gives me pause.
“I have Jerry and Percy keeping an eye on her,” I tell them, a twitch in my jaw, making my muscles feel tight. I don’t like unknowns.
Blade doesn’t object, which shows his concern even if none of us will admit it. Clearly he wants to know just as much as I do what our new stepsister is hiding.
Thorn’s brows are deeply furrowed, and he glances back at the now empty doorway. “What if it’s something serious, guys?”
“Doubtful,” I scoff, going back to the Financial Times, though I’ve been reading the same sentence since I heard Luna come down the stairs. “Girls like her always make things up for attention. It’s probably just anxiety or something equally asinine.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“SKIN AND BONES” BY RUELLE
LUNA
“I'm so sorry I can’t pick you up, honey,” my mother says before sighing over the phone, her voice full of regret. “I didn’t realize that Richard had already planned to meet a prospective client, and it’s kind of a big deal for me to be there and support him.” Tears sting my eyes, my lower lip trembling at the knowledge that she’s putting him, her new husband and my stepdad, first.
She’s never once missed an appointment before, when I went through this hell a few years ago, let alone not even picked me up. She knows the chemo takes it out of me, leaving me shaking and bone tired.
“That’s okay, Mom,” I say thickly, plastering a smile that I don’t feel onto my face, trying to sound cheerful even as exhaustion sweeps over me and despite the fact she can’t see me. Fake it till you make it.
“I’ve sent Blade to get you. I know you didn’t want him to know, but he’s the only one available. I didn’t tell him what you were in there for.” My stomach swoops, like it does when you’re at the top of a rollercoaster before you descend. She’s sent the one person in the entire world I don’t want to see, one of my tormentors, my stepbrother. I didn’t want him and his brothers to know about the cancer coming back because it just gives them more ammunition to use against me. “Luna love?”
“I–It’s fine,” I huff, my heart pounding as I look to the nurses’ station, my eyes widening as I lock eyes with said stepbrother. “I’ve got to go.”
His irises are that gorgeous dark green which I hate but also find unbearably pretty, his thick brown hair falling over his forehead in that way which has me itching to move it aside, regardless of what an absolute asshole he is. His brow is deeply furrowed as he takes me in, still lying on the hospital bed.
Movement at his side has me tearing my gaze away, only to see his duplicate standing there, and I swear if they hooked me up to a heart monitor, it would blare an alarm with how fast mine is currently racing. Thorn’s eyes are a little wide though, his nostrils flared as he trails his bright jade gaze over me, as if he’s checking every inch for any visible signs of injury. More fool him. It’s what’s inside me that’s posing the most danger.
And of course, where two of the Banks triplets are, the third is not far behind. Guess Mom was mistaken, all three are here despite her saying only Blade was free. Chase Banks strides into the room like he’s about to tear it apart, his steps faltering as they land on me. His chest is heaving, like he ran all the way here, and there’s a slight tremble to his clenched fists, which makes little sense.
Blade marches over, the others following, and I swear they suck all the oxygen out of the room because it’s suddenly hard totake a full breath. I can’t look away. It’s like watching my doom headed towards me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“You have exactly two fucking seconds to tell me why the fuck you are on a cancer ward, Goldilocks,” Blade demands in a quiet but deadly voice as soon as he’s next to me. I have to tilt my head up to keep eye contact, and my mouth is so dry I can’t say anything for several moments. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, and my brows furrow because I just can’t work out why he’s so pissed.
“What? Feel bad now that you know you’ve been assholes to a dying girl?” When in doubt, always go for the balls. That’s my motto anyway.
