The Harper Generations

You're cute when you're possessive

Valentino

I expected Misty to throw a shit fit when Trina touched me, but she didn't. She let me handle the bitch my way. However, I noticed that she stayed glued to my side during the entire scene.

We arrived at my house and entered with Misty carrying her shopping bags.

Ma came out of the kitchen when she heard us. "How was the shopping?"

"I got a dress." Misty raised a bag.

"And I got trouble." I shrugged.

"What kind of trouble?" Ma asked.

"Shouldn't you ask about the dress?"

"I will in a minute. What trouble, Valentino?"

"Trina and her lackeys tried to start their shit with us, insinuating things that aren't true."

"And what did you and your cousins do that make these trolls think otherwise?" Ma folded her arms and cocked her head.

"Did you just call Trina and her friends trolls?"

"If the shoe fits." Ma shrugged. "Plus, it's not my first rodeo with girls not getting a clue. I dealt with your dad's mistake."

"Does Dad know you refer to his past as a mistake?"

Ma arched her brow. "Yes, and he doesn't deny it. Now, stop skating the issue. What did you and your cousins do?"

"For once, nothing. And if we did, we have no recollection."

Ma studied me, but she wouldn't find a lie. My memory as Tino got wiped with the merge, as did the others. Nothing remained from that life.

"I would be careful, Tino. Some girls don't get the hint when they should."

"It doesn't matter. What matters is now."

Ma nodded in agreement.

I didn't want to rehash my mistakes before the merge. I tried to focus on the here and now. And that included Misty/Mags.

"I don't know about you, but I need a nap," Misty said before heading upstairs.

I'll wake her later in my own unique way.

******
Misty

I hung my dress up before crawling into bed and falling asleep. There's nothing better than a nap after dealing with twits.

While I slept, memories surfaced from my previous life. I met Nate, Pat, and their demon spawn. I battled it out with them. Nathan and Noah stole my journal, while Nolan stole my bra. Nixon and I exchanged barbs. Nash returned from Europe and caused me unnecessary grief.

But I also remember getting sick and losing my memory. This memory, in particular, plagued me. While Bryson pulled his shit which we dealt with, that whole scenario seemed sinister.

As I fell into a deep sleep, that particular memory became more apparent.

"Doctor Tilson?" A woman asked.

Why couldn't I open my eyes? They seemed heavier than usual.

"Yes, nurse?" The doctor asked.

"What are you doing in the patient's room?" The nurse inquired.

Why was the doctor in my room?

"I'm checking on my patient," the doctor replied.

Wait. What? That wasn't the name of my doctor. Where the hell is my doctor?