• XANDER •
"Put your seatbelt on." I order Amalia, who scrambles to obey, letting her phone call on her lap. I glance at it to see that she's playing Candy Crush.
I look back at the driveway, only starting the car when she's safely buckled in. She discards her phone in her pocket and grabs the small backpack she brought, unzipping it and pulling out a book. She opens it, careful not to crack the spine, and leans back in the seat.
The bandages wrapped around her wrists peek out from under her jumper, and I suddenly want to apologise to her, but don't. What's the point in building a relationship with my baby sister if the possibility that she can be taken away again lingers?
I can't do it again—can't miss her. Miss the little cutie she used to be (and still is, quite frankly). It ruined my life, ruined everything. Dad hardly spoke for years, my brothers used to cry every night. They would ask me where Amalia was, and I'd have to lie and say she was fine, when I really didn't know.
I'd leave their rooms after staying with them until they fell asleep and cry myself, when all the lights were out. When the curtains were shut and my door was closed. When no one could see me.
I let out a shaky breath. Amalia looks up from her book and at me.
I glance at her. "What?"
She snaps her head back down, a small, scared whimper escaping her.
Fucking hell.
I hold onto the steering wheel tighter. She must notice or something, because she shuffles away, closer to the car door. I loosen my grip, silently cursing myself.
I just wanted her to not like me, not be scared of me. I only wanted her to not want to get to know me, so I wouldn't be forced to get to know her—to like her as much as I used to. But she's afraid of me. She's petrified.
Shit, I have to fix this.
•
"You can sit here." I say, pulling my desk chair out for Amalia, who sits in it tentatively. I lean on the desk next to her and turn my laptop on, logging into it and clicking on Disney+. "Watch whatever you want. I'll come check on you when I can."
She nods, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. I walk out of my office hastily, shutting the door behind me before entering the main part of my restaurant.
My currently very busy restaurant.
Amalia is supposed to be here with me all day, so I'll make her food in a little bit. We had breakfast before we drove, though, so she should be okay for a few hours.
"Hey, boss." My best friend, Leo, says as I walk into the kitchen. I nod a hello before washing my hands and grabbing a ticket off the waiting bar. "Who was that little kid?" He asks after I shout an order to a few of my kitchen staff. They're being too lazy, which is bad on such a busy day. And everyday in general.
"My sister." I respond, pouring rice in a pan to wash it.
"Since when have you had a sister?"
"Since she was born." I respond, mixing the grains around a little bit before leaving them for a second and setting a few chicken breasts into a pan.
He rolls his eyes. "Obviously. I've never seen her before, though."
"My mother took her ages ago. She's dead now, so she's back with us."
"Shit, I'm sorry."
I falter for a moment before shrugging and continuing to cook.
About three hours pass before I take a break. I smell like onions and pepper.
I walk into my office, and Amalia, lounging in my chair, straightens, as though she's been caught doing something she shouldn't.
I offer a smile that she doesn't see because she's staring at the screen of my laptop. I walk over to my desk, pull out one of the drawers, and grab a few papers I need to sort through before sitting down in one of the seats across from the one Amalia is sitting in.
She glances over at me a few times, but I don't have that long and I want to eat before I have to go cook again—as much as I love doing it, it's exhausting—as well as do this so it's out of the way.
My phone dings with a text. I pull it out of my pocket.
DAD: Is Amalia okay?
ME: She's fine. She's watching a movie.
DAD: Be nice to her.
I roll my eyes.
ME: I am.
DAD: Okay, good. Try make her some food please.
ME: Alright.
I'm about to put my phone away when another text dings, but it's not from my father. It's from Elijah.
ELIJAH: If you make her upset I'll punch you again.
I suppress a snort. He hardly punched me; there was only a matter of moments before I had him pinned to the floor.
ME: Because you did so much damage last time.
ELIJAH: I mean it.
I sigh and put my phone into my pocket. Amalia is watching me when I look up, but she diverts her gaze back to the TV screen quickly.
I continue to scribble my signature where it's needed for a few minutes until there's nothing left to sign. I stand, return the files to my desk drawer, and turn to leave.
I walk to the kitchen, cook some chicken nuggets and chips because I don't know what Amalia likes to eat, and cook some pasta for myself, making sure there's not a lot of people waiting before doing so. There isn't. At lunchtime, people normally order cold foods rather than hot ones so there isn't much demand for the oven and pans.
Sam stops me as I carry mine and Amalia's plates back to my office.
"Don't mind if I do—" He goes to take one of the nuggets I made Amalia, but I kick him away. He laughs.
"Greedy cunt." I mumble. He laughs harder, and the sound follows me to my office. I open the door, expecting to see Amalia again, but she's not there.
I set the plates down and walk back out, looking down the hall. My breaths come quick and panicked.
"Amalia?" I shout. Fuck, I've lost her; I've lost her; I've lost her. Again. It's all my fault, again. She's gone. She's been taken—
I hear the soft pad of feed before a small finger taps my shoulder.
I spin around quickly, and Amalia takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief before leaning against the nearest wall to stop my legs from caving in.
I cover my face with my hands, and when I pull them away, Amalia is looking at me with fear in her eyes. I go to set a hand on her shoulder but when my hand goes past her face she flinches, so I pull it away.
"Where did you go?" I ask.
I don't mean for my voice to come out as angry as it does. But I am angry—angry with myself for almost losing her again. She doesn't know that, though. And from the way she's trying to shrink, I'm guessing she's assuming I'm angry at her.
She lifts an arm up to point at the bathroom, down the hall.
I exhale another sigh of relief. "Next time you leave the room, write a note and leave it on the desk. Can you do that for me, please?" I try to make my voice sound gentle, but it sounds awkward and uncomfortable.
She nods. She looks sorry.
"Okay." I say. "Okay." I repeat. I lead her back into the office and set her food in front of her. "Here, eat that. I'll get you ice cream or something from the freezer when your done."
The ghost of a smile appears on her face.
I sigh softly and eat my food, pulling my phone back out.
• AMALIA •
There's a knock at Xander's office door, and without waiting for permission to come in a young man with light brown hair walks in. He smiles brightly at me.
"Here's the ice cream." He says, setting a small bowl of vanilla and chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce and sprinkles in front of me, along with a spoon. I smile a thanks.
"Amalia, this is my friend, Sam." Xander mumbles without looking up from his phone.
"Hi." Sam says cheerfully.
I wave at him.
"I've gotta get back to work." He says. "Bye."
I smile politely as he leaves, then sit up and grab the spoon, digging into the ice cream immediately. Chocolate and vanilla is my favourite combination; there's enough of each flavour to balance each other out, so it's not too chocolatey or plain. It's perfect.
How Xander knew, I'm not sure. I'm grateful, though, because I haven't had ice cream in ages.
"I have to get back to work, too." He mumbles.
I wave at him when he's at the door, and he looks at me for a second before going, as though he was shocked.
I continue to eat my ice cream and watch my movie.