Triton [hs au | completed]

68) Cemetery

|| Epilogue ||

"When I face the one who made my disgusting heart from a lump of clay, should ask what got me through, if he asks me, it was you."

I slap the alarm beside me, taking a few tries to successfully hit the snooze button. I sit up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before pushing the covers back and climbing out of my empty bed. I pad down the cold hallway floor, stepping over the creaky floorboards and down the stairs.

I step over the corgi who is sleeping in the kitchen doorway, just barely missing his tail; it's like he loves getting stepped on. I glance out the window at the snow coming down as I pull a mug from the cupboard. I go to grab the coffee pot, my pointer finger coming in contact with the scalding glass.

"Fuck." I mutter, sucking my finger, attempting to numb the sting. I reach for the coffee pot again, firmly grasping it without burning myself this time. The dog is startled out of his nap by the sound of breaking glass immediately followed by a loud 'FUCK!'

"Olivia Styles." I call out sternly. No reply. I lean back, allowing me to see her through the entry way. A shattered drinking glass lay at her feet.

"What?" she shrugs. "You said it first." 

I glare at her. 

"I won't tell mom if you won't?" she suggests.

"The broom is in the laundry room." I tell her, going back to the cup of coffee.

"I'll be home late tonight; I have practice and then I'm going to the movies with some friends." she says as she walks through the kitchen en route to the broom.

"How late is late?" I ask as I pour caramel creamer into the mug.

"One?"

"Try again."

"Midnight?"

"Better. Did you ever put the chains on your tires?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"No, it's finals week and -"

"You better take my car then." I interrupt. She gapes at me.

"The Mustang, are you serious?!"

"Don't tell your mother?" I suggest.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she exclaims, throwing her arms around my neck, still clutching the broom.

"You better get out of here, you're going to be late for school." I tell her, taking the broom from her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Have a good day." I step over the dog into the living room and begin sweeping up the shards of broken glass.

"Isaac called last night after you went to bed. He said it was about Jonathan." Anne tells me as she walks through to the kitchen.

"Fuck."

"That's a dollar in the swear jar, Dad." she reminds me amused.

"Add it to my tab." I grumble, sweeping the shards into the dustpan. "Do you know where he's staying?" I think Isaac sent me some texts about that last night, but I haven't been able to read them. I never quite got the hang of smartphones.

"No, he hasn't been to school in almost two weeks." she replies, pouring coffee into a travel mug. "Is this yours?" she asks, pointing to the mug. "It's getting cold." I nod as I walk past with the dust pan full of glass.

"Where is your mom?"

"Where do you think?" she replies shaking her head. She walks over and gives me a one armed hug.