As I seemed to regain consciousness, a billion questions rushed through me, and I blinked at the lifeless body like it could give me an answer.
When did I choose to pull the trigger? Where did this gun come from? What led me to this place at this ex...
I dedicate this epilogue to all my little Shooting stars, all my awesome readers. 🌠😘
Are your tissues ready? 😭😭
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'My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small
You never need to carry more than you can hold
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too'
*DOROTHY'S POV*
Four months later
BANG!
"No! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" My curse words echoed in the silence around, though I knew it wouldn't last long, and indeed, I didn't get to conceal the piece of evidence on the floor or even get my hot-air balloon body up before–
"Shooting star! You okay?"
"DD, what's happening?"
They were even faster than I'd imagined, Blade rushing from the hallway with logs over his shoulder and Spencer with a cup of tea.
Everything to warm me up, and if I'd been nicely cozy on the couch before, now pearls of sweat were forming from the top of my round belly to my bright cheeks, where their wide, worried gazes kept traveling between.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Don't worry. I just dropped something."
"What?" Blade lifted an eyebrow at my extended legs, which could have almost hidden the large binder under the coffee table, if Spencer hadn't walked up on the other side to grab it.
"DD, I thought we'd agreed you shouldn't study today."
"And even less carry heavy shit," Blade finished, while Spencer nodded to support his argument like the improbable but great team they could be when they sometimes decided to work together, and as it was currently against me, it made me regret their bickering.
Okay, it may have only been yesterday. However, today, they were careful to hold back their urges to rip each other's heads off, figuratively and literally, so as to not add me more stress, and I was the one getting murderous.
"I wasn't carrying it. I just tried to read it and study while I still have time, because it'll be harder when I'll be tired and groggy." In Daisy's words. "With a baby crying 24/7 if 'she or he's like their mom'." As my own mom had said.
"Shooting star, you won't be alone to take care of the little badass."
