My head snapped in her direction. "Of course I am."

"You barely said anything all day. And after dinner you stayed out here—by yourself—even after we went to bed."

I leaned toward her, to be sure she heard me loud and clear. "Yesterday—it was a gift." I was given custody, by some twisted God above that I no longer believed in, my parents—my estranged father—gave me custody of Chloe. As well as management of all assets and accounts and allowances for Luca and Noah. He put me in charge of selling the house, their cars and all other belongings we wouldn't want. A written request from our parents that Luca—with one look at Chloe's raised brows and pinched confusion—instantly spat his disapproval on. We'd refuse to sell, and he'd been sure to have the last word as he tugged Chloe from her chair without room to banter an argument.

"The drinking...."

"Had nothing to do with you."

She bit her lip. "The nightmares."

I withdrew, sat back in my seat, and my gaze pierced through the trees, looking for anything to take away my attention.

"You can tell me—"

"I don't want to talk about them, Chloe. Please leave it alone." I felt her glare pierce the side of my face. She wanted me to turn and face it. To tell her point blank to back off, she didn't belong in the depths of my guilt-ridden subconscious. She didn't want in there—not even to dip a toe; to crest the surface of what I thought of myself.

"Why?" Her voice cracked and my shoulders went taunt.

I grit my teeth. My fingers had found a way together and they clenched, too. Flashes of Ruby bolted to the front of my mind, burning through that lingering haze of whiskey. Her body slumped in the passenger seat. Her head smashed against the window. The matted hair. The blood. Sometimes her vibrant eyes so similar to Chloe's sprung open and pleaded for my help. Sometimes they rolled back in her head. In every scenario, I was helpless; and I did nothing.

As my stomach rolled, I swallowed the queasy feeling. "Because I can't. I can't talk about it." I prayed she heard the underlying desperation. The way the words barely slipped past my lips in a whisper. I wondered if she noticed the sweat starting to bead along my upper lip or if she assumed that was from the stagnant air swirling in the misty morning.

"Chloe!" Her name thundered through the house. "Chloe?" Suddenly, the door burst open and Luca was standing in its place. "I've been calling your name for the last five minutes."

Her palms opened in an obvious display of inflection. "I've been out here."

His tense posture softened. Not once did he spare a glance at me. "Are you ready? We need to leave."

I frowned. None of us were ready for this.

She eyed the car that sat at the end of the drive. The one that would take us to say a final goodbye to our parents. Again, I noticed the slight jerk of her chin upwards. "I have to be, right?" A stoic expression cast over her features, each one set in stone.

My elbows hit the tops of my thighs and I scrubbed my face. I itched for another cigarette as no one said anything in response.

"Are we gonna stand around talking about it, or get it over with?" Noah appeared beside Luca, tugging the door shut behind them. With him involved we wouldn't so much as broach a meaningful topic of conversation.

Luca suggested as much. "Well, with you, we certainly shouldn't dare to bring up mom and dad, should we?"

Chloe shot to her feet and threw a pointed look at Luca. "Not today. Please."

"Yeah, Luca, please," Noah groaned mockingly as he sauntered off the porch. "Not today."

I stood to follow, but paused as Luca took hold of Chloe's arm. "Did you take your Keppra?"

Her face pinched hard and fast in distaste, but just as quickly the look dissolved.

"She's sixteen, Luca. She doesn't need you breathing down her neck," Noah remarked.

I watched Luca's lashes lay shut and his chest expand with an inhale, but his grasp on Chloe remained. If anything it tightened as he pulled her closer. When he opened his eyes again, they were desperate.

Chloe must've seen it too and her posture slackened. "Yes," she said simply. Just as she did when he asked each morning. And every evening.

"Maybe—for him—you could make a point of enacting the very moment you take it. Then we could avoid these intense, albeit brief, interrogations twice a day," Noah called over his shoulder as he strolled down the drive.

"I worry," was all Luca said as he released her.

It was an understatement. He worried about everything, but especially this. Especially her epilepsy. Especially when it came on strong and fast two years ago and the answers weren't nearly as instantaneous. When anything and everything was considered a trigger and her life now balanced on a well timed routine, precision to her diet and a simple pill of packed powder. 

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• losing ruby •

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