Page 6 of This Life and All the Rest
She bounces in my arms and pats her hands on my face, leaning forward and giving me her version of kisses, which is essentially coming at you open-mouthed and slobbering all over your cheeks. Also gross in a kind of cute way.
The door is unlocked, so I let myself in. I kick my shoes off on the mat, then make my way toward the living room. I’m rounding the corner and heading toward the baby activity center when my eyes catch on a carry-on suitcase against the wall.
I stop short and stare at it.
Then I hear the soft padding of footsteps, and I know. Before I see her, I feel her. Then I smell her, and it pisses me off. Vanilla. My brain shoutsimposterand my whole body tightens. I hold my breath as she appears in front of me.
Lennon.
I haven’t seen her this close in years. She looks different, and it’s not just the auburn color she’s dyed her hair or the curves on her body that are more pronounced. She looks amazing. She’s always looked amazing, but it’s something else. Different from prom night, and different still from the London pub.
Despite the differences, she’s still the same, too. There’s just something decidedlyLennonabout her.
She’s in a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt with her hair piled on top of her head in a bun. Her one hand holds a mug of coffee and the other is scrolling through a phone, but the minute we’re in the same space, her attention snaps to me.
She stops. Her eyes flare and mouth drops open, for just a split second, then her brow furrows and her lips purse.
In spite of myself, I let my eyes scan her. US NAVY shirt. US NAVY sweats. And she’s barefoot, her toenails painted an emerald green. It makes my heart race and my anger spike. Glad to see she’s made herself at fucking home.
I bring my eyes back to hers to say as much, but she’s not looking at me.
She’s looking at the mini-monster in my arms.
Evelyn’s little fingers tighten in my shirt as Lennon takes a tentative step toward us. I try to relax my body, so she doesn’t feed off my tension, but it’s too late.
“Hey, Evie,” Lennon says softly, her voice smooth and sweet and just how I remember it. I want to rush her and wrap her in my arms, but Evelyn whimpers and buries her face in my neck. The shock on Lennon’s face pisses me off, and I scoff. Why is she so surprised? Evelyn doesn’t know her, and that’s Lennon’s own fault.
“She doesn’t like strangers,” I say, my voice booming through the quiet space.
At that word,stranger, Lennon’s shoulders stiffen. The spark in her eyes kicks up my heartbeat, in a way I haven’t felt in years, but her lips stay flatlined, emotionless.
“I’m not a stranger,” she says “I’m her sister.”
“You’re astranger. You’ve seen her once in ten months. That’s it. Then you come waltzing back around and expect her to, what, just embrace you? Nah, Len. That’s not how this shit works.”
Her eyes narrow as she studies me. She doesn’t like the truth I just served up, but too fucking bad. That’s what happens when you run away to the other side of the world and never return. You becomeestranged.
“It’sCapri,” she says finally, her voice low and commanding. I snort a laugh.
“Sure it is.” I push past her and walk into the kitchen, just as my mom comes down the stairs.
“Hey, guys,” she says with a smile, but her voice is tired and sad.
“Mamamamama!” Evie chants and bounces, reaching for our mom and making those little grabby hands. Mom laughs and gives me a quick hug, before taking Evie from my arms and peppering her with kisses.
“Hey, my sweet girl. Thank you so much for taking her last night, Macon. How was she for you?”
I smirk and move to the coffee pot to pour myself a cup.
“She’s a little terror, but she’s a good wingman,” I joke, glancing back at the doorway and noting Lennon’s absence. She’s disappeared again. Figures. I look back at my mom and sister. “Got me like five numbers at The Outpost before eleven.”
My mom rolls her eyes.
“You were asleep on the couch by nine,” she says, and I shrug.
Eight forty-five, but I’m not going to correct her.
“Did you get any rest?”
