Chapter 15 - Patience

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Cole drove us home that afternoon and nobody mentioned the kit incident, much to my relief. I was still annoyed that Xander blamed me. Did he really think that little of me that I would choose to freeze to death in that horrible kit? Apparently. I couldn't stand the lack of trust my brothers had in me.

That night I slept awfully, night terrors waking me up at random intervals, trying and failing to remember the grounding techniques Luke taught me on Monday. By 6am, I irrationally refused to go back to sleep again in fear of having another torturous memory. It was no surprise that I wasn't in the greatest mood on Saturday morning.

By 7am, I was tired of waiting in my room for one of my brother's to wake up so they could babysit me while I ate breakfast. Overnight, I had woken with slight stomach pains and didn't really feel like eating breakfast.

However, I didn't want to disappoint my brother's who always insisted on me eating breakfast. So, I decided on a simple slice of buttered toast. Once I had finished my breakfast, I put my plate in the sink and took a seat at one of the chairs by the countertop.

I looked up at the sound of footsteps as I saw Harley walk into the kitchen, in his gym kit and shirtless, exposing his six-pack. Did my brothers even own shirts? A small towel was casually hung over his shoulder. I could tell he had just been to the gym as a thin layer of sweat coated his forehead and his hair was all messy.

"You're up early," he noted, looking at me dubiously.

I hummed in response and continued scrolling pointlessly through my phone. I wasn't in the mood to talk, especially not to someone who'd just been to the gym.

"Sleep okay?" He asked, moving so that he was leaning over the countertop opposite me.

This probably gave him a perfect view of tired, droopy eyes and dishevelled, generally rough condition. Perfect.

I quickly realised I would have to pull out the actress in me so that he would ignore my betraying appearance.

"Yeah, fine thanks," I smiled, looking up at him. "You?" I asked politely in response.

The last thing I wanted was for my brothers to suspect I had another nightmare, actually three nightmares, last night. So I had easily perfected the artificial smile that I could comfortably hide behind. It had come in useful on more than one occasion before.

"You sure?" Harley insisted, ignoring my question. His eyes narrowed, not in an ominous way, but as if trying to scrutinise me for any indication I was not as I said, 'fine'.

"Yep," I answered, chirpily.

He spent another few moments analysing me. I hated it when they did that. When he couldn't find a fault in my performance, he sighed resignedly and walked over to the cupboards.

I swear I nearly gagged when I saw Harley put spinach into the shaker and blend it together with ingredients that look poisonous to combine.

"Please tell me you're not drinking that," I asked when the shaker stopped whirring.

Harley laughed and turned around with a now bright-green glass of sludge in his hand.

"Want to try it?" He offered sarcastically, holding it out to me with a smirk plastered on his lips.

"You put spinach in it," I told him, thoroughly revolted by the sight of it.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," he countered.

"Is that colour even legal in a drink?"

"You used to have green mush baby food all the time," he chuckled.

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