Staying Grounded [BXB]

(Un)Welcome

SEBASTIAN:

Under Dobby's supervision, I'm finishing up the repairs on Craig's torn jacket when I hear the front door open and close on Ashleigh's return from school. "Home safe and well. Yet again!" She sing-songs along the hallway.

"That's fantastic," Aunt Judy calls back from the kitchen, indulgent humour warm in her voice. "Another gold star for you!"

There's the distinctive sound of a heavy bag hitting the floor, and then, "Whatever you're cooking, Judes, oh my gawd! The house smells delicious!"

"May well be my best stew yet!"

And as I draw in a deep breath of the richly scented air, my stomach grumbles its agreement.

A minute later, Ashleigh's flouncing into the snug, kicking off her shoes and dropping down on the sofa beside me. "Hey there, lazy house-elf," I'm promptly shunned in favour of Dobby. The instant her hand comes within an inch of his scruffy head, however, he's off his cushion and resettling himself by my feet.

I snort at her affronted frown. It's funny. "Every time!"

"Your dog's a jerk."

"Yep, because, of course, Dobby's the one at fault for your refusal to learn." My dog is a cantankerous fellow; loyal and loving though he is, he's not much a one for fuss.

Ashleigh folds herself up, tucking her legs in between us, and side-eyes me. "Least you seem to have cheered your face up a bit."

"Positively beaming." A shove to her shoulder has her retaliating with a vicious toe-jab to my thigh. I catch her foot. "On the inside."

The thick charcoal parka is swiped from my lap, needle and all, as she squirms herself free of me. "Cleaned and patched, goodness!" Her entire face lights up. "See, you can be sweet."

My lip's curl is swift to disillusion her. "These clothes of his are likely worth near as much as my truck."

"Ah yes," she nods sagely. It takes her very little time to notice the swanky phone that he's also left, resting by my elbow on the sofa arm. "That boy certainly has all of the best things." And it takes her less time still to reach around me for it. Waking the screen, she rolls her eyes at the passcode prompt, then slides the camera icon up. I rescue it before she can bomb his gallery with any more than a handful of pouting selfies. "Spoilsport!"

"Always." I relieve her of the jacket too, and she grins at me, getting a blatant kick out of being impossible. Tying off the thread, I snatch up the scissors from the coffee table. "You can take all his shit into school with you tomorrow, right?"

"Oh. Nope."

S'cuse me? My raised brow asks.

"Craig won't be there."

"Why not?"

"Well, because he—"

"Bickering again? Already?"

Judy's interruption whips Ashleigh's attention away from me, and I turn just as my aunt appears in the doorway, her mass of black braids coiled in a chaotic nest atop her head. She's dressed in her nursing scrubs, ready to leave for her fourth night shift in a row, and with a practised smile, I pretend I don't notice the weary pinch to her brow as she leans her shoulder against the door frame.

"Who'd choose to have kids, I ask you."

"You would," Ashleigh predictably feigns offence. "And I'm seventeen!"

"Almost twenty," I can't resist contributing, raising my hand.

Judy only flaps us off, too smart to take our bait. "And speaking of squabbles," she says, her tone becoming serious. "What are the school doing about the brawl that broke out on its grounds yesterday?"