Caught In A Riptide
Chapter Fifteen
Arlo
My clothes are soaked through before I even hit the end of the street, but the thought of going back to get a ride home from Charlotte as planned…
I'd have to see Lakely.
"Fuck, Lakely," I groan, pushing my wet hair out of my face, pulling it hard because that pain is better than the gut-wrenching feeling of knowing my best friend, my Lakers, is knocked up and didn't tell me.
We're seventeen.
We just started our senior year and she let fucking Tyler knock her up.
Something like disgust rolls around my stomach as I remember kissing her earlier, only it's not me with her on the grass, it's Crowley. I didn't even know they were that serious. I thought they were just fooling around, or whatever. My beer buzz disappeared the second Vicky spat the word 'Mommy' at Lakely and everything I've been noticing, but not understanding, slotted into place.
She's been weird since we were in Miami. I'm suddenly sure the reason she pulled away from me for a while was Tyler and the fight they probably had after he came out to stay with us and Lakely ditched him to stay with me on the beach.
Then there's how just plain off she's been acting, and she's been crunching breath mints like a seasoned smoker recently. I was starting to wonder if she was having a crisis and had taken up smoking, but no, she's probably just been puking a whole lot. I remember when Mom was pregnant with the sixers and spent half the time in the bathroom until the morning sickness started to pass.
The rain slams down on me as I stop right there and tip my head back, yelling at the sky, wishing I could go back and stop this whole clusterfuck from happening, wondering why the hell Lakely didn't tell me.
We tell each other everything. It's us against the world.
Or, it was.
Headlights bounce along the road, pulling me out of my miserable thoughts enough to start walking again. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I pick up the pace, a curse flying from my mouth when the car skids to a stop a few feet in front of me and a familiar redhead steps out.
"Fuck off, Vicky."
She stalks toward me on the side of the road and jabs her finger into my chest, stepping into my path when I try to go around her. "No, you're not gonna ignore me again! What the fuck, Arlo? Were you fucking her the whole time we were together?"
My chest clenches. No. "Of-fucking-course not. Quit it with that shit. Lakely's just…"
I was about to say 'my friend,' but friends don't keep secrets like that. Not best friends like I thought we were.
Vicky hisses a curse and stamps her foot, splashing wet mud up my legs. The rain will wash it off before I even get home, so I just step around her and keep walking.
"You keep saying that!" she screeches. "That you're just friends, but let me tell you something, Arlo Cullen."
Stopping with a sigh, I turn to face her, figuring if I let her get this out of her system now, I might not have to listen to it again.
"Just friends don't look at each other like you two look at each other," she screams, bedraggled with wet hair plastered to the make-up sliding over her cheeks. "And just friends definitely don't fuck each other on the beach when they're supposed to be at a party with their girlfriend, you fucking idiot!"
Rolling my eyes, I huff a sigh and turn to head toward home. "This shit again, really?" I call over my shoulder. "You're kidding yourself, Vicky."
"Ugh! Go to hell, Arlo!" Over the rain and the crack of thunder that shakes the ground, I hear the car door slam behind me seconds before Alec swerves enough to hit a puddle, the water covering me from my chest to my feet as he speeds away.
Fucking dickhead.
The rain stops twenty minutes later, just as my feet hit the foot of our driveway. "Fucking figures," I mutter, trudging up the porch steps and squeezing my eyes shut against the ball of pain that always hits me when I let myself in and there's no Max to run and greet me.
It's way past midnight, so everyone is in bed. I shower quickly just to get warm, flopping down on my bed with a towel knotted at my hip and my damp hair getting my pillow all wet.
It takes forever to fall asleep even though I've been up since six, because all I can picture is the way Lakely looked when I pulled away from her.
Tears on her cheeks, fear in her eyes, and heartbreak slashed across her face.
~ oOo ~
When I wake up the next morning, it takes a second for me to remember where I am. I was supposed to stay at Demetri's last night, but I wake up to Rylee's face so close to mine I can smell exactly what she had for breakfast.
Mom better have saved some muffins for me.
"You have drool here," she says, pointing to the corner of her mouth, still so fucking close.
"Get outta here, Buster," I groan, my head pounding, stomach twisting as I roll over and memories of last night hit me like a sledgehammer.
Fuck.
"Mom sent me to get you," she says, hopping up onto the bed. She doesn't weigh much since she's tiny, but her weight is enough to jiggle the bed and make me want to swat her away like a fly. Not that I would, obviously. But I kind of want to.
"Why?"
"I don't know, I'm just the messenger."
Of course.
Grumbling a curse, under my breath so she can't grass on me, I drag myself up and grab the towel so I don't accidentally flash my baby sister and scar her for life or some shit. "All right, get out so I can get dressed."
"'Kay." She pops a kiss on the tip of my nose before hopping down, but before she closes the door, she pokes her head and arm back in enough to toss a muffin at me. "I sneaked one for you. Don't tell Mom."
As the door clicks shut, I yell that she's forgiven for waking me up. Her giggles are faint but make me smile anyway.
Once I've pulled on some shorts and a tee, and shovelled the muffin down my throat, I grab my cell from the dresser where I dumped it last night and head downstairs.
It becomes clear why I've been summoned out of bed at...fuck, it's that early?...eight on a Saturday morning when a little blondie slams into my legs right at the bottom of the stairs.
"Oh, hey, Oggy."
August grins toothily up at me. "Hey, dude."
"Dude, huh?" I laugh, swinging my little cousin up into my arms. "What's up? Why're you here so early?"
"Dad-Daddy helpin' Unca Ed," he tells me cheerfully, blowing a raspberry on my cheek as I carry him through to the kitchen, smiling at the nickname he and his sisters all use for their dads—'Dad-Daddy.'
Sure enough, both his dads are in the back yard with Mom, Dad, the sixers, and August's sisters. Uncle Sullivan spots me first, pointing me out to Uncle Gray next. He turns in his chair to shake his head at me.
"Don't judge me, or the cute little one gets it," I tease, flipping August to dangle him over the pool.
My uncles just grin and shake their heads, not even a little worried even as their son shrieks and giggles that he can't get wet because he's in his 'wegular cwoves.'
Uncle Sullivan had all three of his kids swimming competently before they could walk. If I dropped August in right now, he'd be absolutely fine and his dads know it.
Just like his two sisters who are splashing around in the pool with the sixers and my dad.
"Arlo, come swim!" Monday squeals as Dad throws her up in the air. She lands with a splash and pops back up with an indignant squawk. "That was mean, Uncle Eddie."
"It's mean calling me 'Uncle Eddie,'" Dad mumbles half-heartedly, scooping her up to plant a kiss on her head. "Sorry, Days. You're right, though. Arlo should come swim."
"Nope, not until he's eaten," Mom interrupts, holding a plate of muffins up with a smile. "Come sit, kiddo. You can swim after."
Fuck, yes.
But first…
"I need to call Lakely quick. I'll be back in a sec."
August runs off to steal a muffin once I put him down, so I step back inside and slide onto a stool at the counter. My thumb hovers over Lakely's face in my contacts list for too long before I finally quit being a chicken and tap it.
In the end, it doesn't matter how chicken I am.
Lakely doesn't answer.
She doesn't answer after I spend the morning babysitting the sixers and my cousins while our parents go out for a child-free brunch.
Her phone rings off when I call on the way to practice and again on my way home.
She doesn't pick up when I call on my way to pick up dinner from Burger Co., and her car isn't there when I take a detour home and drive by her house.
I finally cave after I finish doing the dishes and dial her home number, but nobody answers that, either.
It's occurred to me once or twice that she's probably with Crowley, but I don't have his digits or know where he lives to try and track them down.
"Everythin' okay, bud?" Dad asks, eyeing me as I spin my cell on the counter and wonder if I fucked everything up walking away from Lakely last night.
"Did you ever fuck up with Mom? Like, so bad you thought she might not talk to you again?" I ask before I can second-guess myself.
His eyebrows lift. "Uh, yeah. A few times. Pissing each other off occasionally kinda comes with the territory of being married though, I think."
"Right."
He waits for a second before clearing his throat and squeezing my shoulder. "Can I ask what's going on, or is that not cool?"
Snorting, I shake my head. "It's just…" fuck. I can't tell Dad, can I? He'd probably feel obligated to tell Lakely's parents since they're all friends, and I don't know if she's done that yet.
My blood runs cold when I realize that her parents will go apeshit when they find out.
Is that why she's AWOL?
"Can I borrow the Jeep?" I blurt, snatching up my cell. I'm already running for the door when Dad yells that I can as long as I'm not about to do something stupid with it.
Stifling the urge to ask him to define 'stupid,' I promise I won't and grab the keys from the hook on my way out.
~ oOo ~
I park a few houses away from the Samuels' and walk the rest of the way, creeping around the side of the house. Just as my foot hits the trellis, I hear the familiar, clunky whoosh of Lakely's window being opened. Her eyes widen and she stammers an uncharacteristic curse when she looks down and spots me, so I'm guessing she was sneaking out already before she knew I was here.
"Uh, hey," I whisper, raking a hand through my hair. "Going somewhere?"
She stares at me for a second before nodding. "The beach."
"Want some company?"
Please give me a chance.
"Are you sure you want to look at me?"
Shit.
"Lakers…" I breathe, wishing I could go back. "I'm sorry. I didn't...can you just come down?"
"Move, then."
All right.
When her sneakers hit the grass beside me and I see her up close, I can't resist giving her a hug. She's tense for a few seconds, then she relaxes and wraps her arms around my waist. I sigh, relieved, squeezing her to me gently. "I'm sorry." I breathe the words into her hair, praying she knows how much I mean them.
"Me too," she whispers against my chest. "Come on."
We're silent as we cut down the side of her house, following the sandy track beyond the back fence, past the little house I lived in with Mom, Jaxson, and Finley when we moved out of Nana and Papa's—my uncles live there with Monday, June, and August now—and almost all the way to Pops' house. I can see it when we veer right onto the dunes, the lure of the sea washing against the shore and the moonlight reflecting in the water like silvery spiders webs.
Lakely walks all the way to the water, kicking her sneakers and socks off on the way.
I watch her go, standing a few feet away, staring at her hair as the wind plays with it and she tips her head back to stare up at the stars. I wonder what's going through her head, how she's coping, what she's planning to do about the...fuck.
Tears sear my eyes as I force myself to think the words—to accept the reality that my best friend, my Lakers, is going to have a baby.
Or will she have—
"You were wrong."
"I'm sure I was," I admit, shelving my train of thought for the moment. "About what in particular?"
The sea rushes up to cover her bare feet and ankles. It sounds like a big sigh.
"Everything." She turns, moonlight casting her face in eerie shadows. "I have something to tell you. It's...not easy."
Closing the gap between us, I get annoyed with my flip flops and the sand and kick them off. When I reach Lakely, the cool Atlantic washing over our feet, I reach up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. She's so pretty. How have I never noticed how beautiful she is before? I mean, I guess I've always known. I'm not blind. But recently…
I see it—her—differently.
As she shivers, the backs of my fingers brushing over her crimson cheek, I wonder why it feels like we've been here before.
Her. Me. The beach. Tension crackling between us.
A flash of me leaning in to kiss her steals my breath before Lakely punches me in the gut with her next words.
"We slept together. On the beach, in Miami."
"No we didn't," I splutter, laughing despite the discomfort that ripples down my spine.
She smiles, but there's no humor there.
Sadness and resignation, sure, but I've never seen a less happy smile.
"I was dancing with the girls and Tyler, and you were sitting with Vicky and your brother."
I can't say 'yes' or 'no.' I don't remember. I don't remember anything after I walked through those gates.
"I watched her give you something." The drugs. Shame blankets me, but I don't have time to wallow in it. "Then I took you outside to get some fresh air, and you wanted to go down to the beach where they were having a bonfire."
Frustration wars with confusion and a hint of nerves as I listen to her describing a night that might as well not exist because there are no memories of it in my mind. Not one.
"Lakely—"
"I need to...to get through this. Please?"
When I stay quiet, my body tense and my heart racing, she blows out a quiet breath and mumbles something to herself, like she's psyching herself up. I don't know why that scares me more than everything else she's saying.
Maybe it's because she's never had to censor herself with me before. She's always been able to be honest and open.
"We went down the steps onto the beach and walked along the water's edge."
The ocean laps at my feet and when I blink, I'm there, picturing that beach I woke up on with stars instead of the sun and Lakely in her dress instead of my tee.
"You got dizzy, I think, and sat down. I sat with you, and you…"
Somehow, I think I know what she's about to say before she even says it.
"You kissed me," she breathes in a rush. "You kissed me and I should have stopped you. I should have stopped you and dragged you back up to that house so Jax or Finn could look after you, but I'm selfish and I didn't and now…"
My throat is dry when I swallow and lick my lips. "Now, what? Were you pregnant then, when I kissed you?"
Fuck, I hope not.
She barks a laugh, slapping her hands over her mouth and staring at me over the top with wide, butterscotch eyes I know as well as my own. She has a thin greenish ring around her pupils—central heterochromia, I think she's said it's called.
"Christ, you still don't get it, do you?"
Throwing my arms in the air, I huff. "No, Lakely, I don't. I have no fucking idea what happened that night because I can't remember. You know that."
I immediately regret snapping when Lakely's eyes fill with tears and her smile turns bitter.
"Yeah, I know. You have no idea how much I goddamn wish you could remember, because then I wouldn't have to be the asshole who has to tell you that we slept together that night and now…now I'm pregnant."
My ears ring.
We slept together that night and now...now I'm pregnant.
We slept together that night and now...now I'm pregnant.
We slept together that night and now...now I'm pregnant.
"Wait…" I croak.
But she's not done.
"I never wanted you to find out the way you did. I never thought it would come out like that, Arlo. I wanted to be the one to tell you, but I was too scared, and then last night happened...it's all just a huge mess. But you thought it was Tyler's, and then you ran off before I could explain that it's…"
Mine.
"Are you sure? I mean, are you sure it's mine, not Tyler's?" I blurt out, cringing even before her eyes widen and hurt cuts into her features.
"You asshole."
She might as well have slapped me, her words hitting me with such force.
Lakely doesn't even stop to get her shoes or socks, she just takes off up the beach. When I turn to follow her, I catch my foot on a piece of driftwood, my ankle twisting and my leg giving way as I yelp and snarl a few curses that would make Lakely blush if she were close enough to hear them.
"Lakely, wait! I didn't mean it, I was just...fuck, Lakely, wait!"
She doesn't, and by the time I limp up to the trellis, her window is shut tight and the curtains are closed.
"Fucking hell," I growl, kicking the stupid trellis before howling at the pain that seers through my already-injured ankle.
The porch light flicks on a few seconds later, CJ stepping outside with the baseball bat he keeps tucked behind the console table. "Who's out there?"
"Shit," I whisper, hobbling toward the hedge separating his yard from Uncle Sullivan and Uncle Gray's as quickly as my bum ankle will let me.
Ducking out of sight, I touch the warm skin over my ankle and groan quietly. Coach is going to kill me if I've sprained it days before the big game against the damn Seminoles.
"Arlo?"
"Shit-fuck-damn!"
Uncle Gray leans over me, his head blocking out the light so I can see his amused little grin as I lay on the grass after he scared the living crap out of me.
"Why would you creep up on me like that?" I whine, peeking through the hedge to see if CJ has gone. The light is off, the porch empty, thank fuck.
"Why are you creeping around in the dark?" Uncle Gray counters, offering me a hand up and a grimace when I put my foot down and hiss.
"I need to get home. The Jeep is just down the street."
"I don't think you're gonna be driving on that," he points out, nodding toward the house. "Come on."
When we get inside, I listen for the kids before realizing it's late and they're probably in bed. Their dog is up, though. I scratch Dynamo between his soft ears and smile as the golden retriever trots back down the hall to my uncles' room on three legs; faster on those three than most dogs on four. The living room light is dimmed low, and quiet jazz music spills down the hall from the kitchen. I remember skidding up and down this space in my socks with Jaxson and Finley, and later, Max. Mom used to go crazy because we broke a million vases crashing into the console at the end of the hall.
"S'that you, hon? My ass is getting lonely! Get your hands in here!"
Gagging, I follow a laughing Uncle Gray into the kitchen where we find Uncle Sullivan at the breakfast bar. He's wearing the glasses he swears he doesn't need and boxers, that's it. His eyebrows crawl up his forehead when he looks up and spots me limping in behind his husband. Dad likes to joke and say I inherited my hatred of being fully clothed from Uncle Sullivan, despite us sharing zero genes.
"Look who I found creeping around in the bushes."
"Rat," I grumble, not that Uncle Gray cares. He just laughs and kisses Uncle Sullivan before excusing himself to go to bed.
Patting my shoulder on the way toward the bedrooms, he offers me a small smile. I guess he can tell that I'm all shook up, because he just nods and tells me to take care of myself before leaving me with Uncle Sullivan.
"There's beer in the fridge," Uncle Sullivan says, and that's why he might be my favorite. I know you're not supposed to pick favorites, but he really is the bomb.
Grabbing two, I put one in front of him, then down half of the other in one go. Sucking in a big breath, I tentatively put my foot on the floor and grimace at the spike of pain it sends up my leg.
"Girl trouble?" Uncle Sullivan guesses.
"Fuckin' understatement."
Snorting, my uncle chugs some of his beer and switches off his iPad, focusing on me. "Let me have it. Lord knows I don't have any fun drama goin' on these days. It's all diapers, pacis, and damn bills."
He must see the blood drain out of my face because his grin slips and worry replaces amusement. "What the fuck have you done, kid?"
I've never been great at keeping secrets, and this isn't one I wasn't prepared for. It spills out of me like word vomit and I watch my uncle's eyes get wider and wider until I finally collapse over the counter, head in my hands and sobs shaking my shoulders because I have no fucking idea what I'm going to do.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. Shit, kid."
I only realize he's abandoned his stool and rounded the counter when his arms wrap around me and I'm crying all over him.
"You couldn't just fail a test or somethin'? Hell, Arlo. Way to break out of the middle child rut."
With a snort, I pull away and wipe my face with the back of my arm. He's smiling, but in a way that just makes me realize how fucked I am.
Reaching for the cupboard above the fridge, he pulls down an unlabelled glass bottle and jerks his head toward the back door, swiping a baby monitor from the counter on the way outside. "C'mon. This calls for somethin' a bit stronger than Bud."
Sitting on the back porch where Mom rocked me to sleep and made us sit to eat ice cream so we wouldn't get it all over the trampoline, I swig home-brewed moonshine and spit most of it back out.
"That's disgusting," I laugh-groan, passing the bottle back to my uncle who just grins and downs a mouthful like it's soda.
"Your taste buds haven't developed yet," he hums, twisting to face me. "You need to talk to her."
I sober, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. "I know. I just...I don't know how."
"Start with 'I'm sorry,' that usually works when I fuck up."
Cocking my head, I wonder, "What do you do if that doesn't work?"
He smirks, eyes shining with mischief. "Offer him a blow—"
"All right!" I say quickly, trilling 'la la la' a few times to be sure he gets the picture. "I get it."
Uncle Sullivan chuckles and reaches over to squeeze my shoulder. "You need to have a real good think about what you want, Arlo. Seriously. And then you need to talk to Lakely about it. That girl adores the shit outta you, for whatever reason."
"I doubt it," I scoff.
"Are you kidding me? Don't you see the way that girl's face lights up when she looks at your ugly mug?"
"Uncle Sully," I groan, shaking my head. "She doesn't see me like that."
"You're deluded, kid, trust me."
The baby monitor lights up with a picture of June's bedroom. She's crawling out of bed and climbing into her toy box when Uncle Sullivan curses and tells me to hang tight. "Be right back," he promises, heading inside. I carefully sip the moonshine and watch him on the monitor as he scoops June up, tucking her back into bed with her stuffed animals before kissing her cheeks.
My chest aches as I wonder if that will be me.
I can't picture myself tucking a baby into bed every night and changing diapers twenty times a day, not now, at least. When I'm thirty, maybe. But at seventeen?
Spilling my guts to Uncle Sullivan helped get my thoughts in order though, and now, I really just want to talk to Lakely and find out what her plans are, whether she's told her parents yet, and how the hell we're going to handle this.
I never pictured myself being a dad this young, and I'm sure she didn't plan to get knocked up at seventeen either, but we've done it now. No take-backs.
"Little shit just wanted to blackmail another story outta me. It's like she thinks I'm an amateur," Uncle Sullivan chuckles, rejoining me on the porch. He drops back into his seat with a sigh. "Look, do you want my advice?"
"Shoot."
"Take five to get your head on straight and figure out what you want, then go talk shit through with her. Gray and the kids are going to Tallahassee tomorrow. You could go with them, hang out with Finn for the day. You've got school Monday so you'd have to be back tomorrow night, but I can cover for you with your parents if you don't want them to know you're outta town."
Twisting a frayed piece of fabric on the hem of my knee, I frown. "You'd do that?"
"Sure. Who's it hurtin'?"
"Nobody, I guess."
"Exactly. You can come back with a fresh head, ready to figure out what the fresh hell you're gonna do with this mess you've made."
"Way to sugar coat it, Unc."
"Sugar coatin' ain't my forté, kid," he chuckles. "Now, do you want to crash here? I can drive you home if you want and Gray can get you in the mornin'."
"I'll stay here. Can I borrow some clothes?"
"'Course. C'mon, I'll get you set up on the couch."
Before closing the back door, he whistles for Dynamo and tells him to go potty when he appears a few seconds later. By the time I've got an ice pack for my twisted ankle and a bed in the form of the pull-out couch, Dynamo is back inside and probably on the bed with Uncle Gray.
"Aight, I'll see you in the mornin'. Text your dad and tell him you're stayin' with me so Bella doesn't panic herself into an early grave or some shit."
Smirking, I nod. "Will do. Thanks for this, Uncle Sully."
He grins, leaning in the doorway. "It's no problem. You remind me a lot of someone I used to know."
"Oh?"
"She was a lot like you. Spunky. Full of shit."
I snort, ready to throw a couple insults his way, but he cuts me off with the wistful look on his face and a soft hum. "Best person I ever met."
Oh.
"Night, kid."
"Night, Unc."
~ oOo ~
The kids go wild when they wake up and find me camped out on the couch.
Uncle Sullivan lends me some clothes and waves at us when we roll off the drive just after nine, and we make it to FSU in time for me to eat lunch with Finley. He's surprised to see me, I can tell, but he doesn't complain about me showing up out of the blue and offers to show me around the campus instead, my ankle thankfully a ton better. I know, like Mom, he's hoping I'll change my mind about going to college in California.
When he comments on how much closer to home FSU is, I wonder if I'll end up even closer at a community college. Flying across the country doesn't sound like such a good idea if I'll be leaving Lakely and our...our baby...behind. Fuck.
Finley does a decent job of distracting me, but my thoughts bounce between the abstract notion of becoming a father at seventeen and the knowledge that I slept with my best friend and can't even remember it.
When Finley's girlfriend calls, I wander away from him at the park and try to wrap my head around all the different emotions I'm feeling. The strongest is fear, obviously, but shame comes a very close second. I can recite the rule book for soccer backwards and forwards without hesitation, and I score solid As on every test, but it's taken all this happening to make me realize that I don't just want friendship with Lakely. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, I know that, but fuck.
The girl is my best friend in the world and I hope that never changes, but the way I feel about her...it's not just platonic. I don't think it has been for a long time.
Because I'm me and nothing is ever simple, I had to knock her up to get that through my thick skull, apparently. I just wish I could fucking remember it. I hate being in the dark.
By the time Uncle Gray drops me back home at the end of the day, I've convinced myself that Lakely and I can do this. People do it all the time. Teens do this all the time.
I'm terrified of what my parents will say and low-key worried CJ will crush my skull with his baseball bat when he finds out I knocked up his daughter, but once they all get over their initial shock, I'm sure they'll be supportive. It's their grandkid, for Christ's sake.
Mom hugs me when I walk through the front door and I almost tell her everything then and there.
She's going to freak when she finds out she's getting a grandkid. I can see her now, prancing around like some kind of fairy godmother. She loves babies even more than I love soccer, which is a truck ton.
Instead of fucking around on Twitter for ages, I go to bed early and set my alarm for a good hour earlier than I need it to be. I'm going to go over to Lakely's and pick her up so we can talk, properly talk, and then after school we should probably think about telling our parents so we can get her a doctor's appointment or something. I'm pretty sure that's one of the first things you're supposed to do when you get knocked up.
Snatching my phone off my nightstand to make a note to buy some pregnancy books, I go to sleep a little less worried than before, sort of happy with my plan.
Of course, it all goes to absolute shit the next morning when I head over to pick up Lakely and she's not there, her car missing from the driveway and her dad slamming the door in my face after refusing to tell me where she is.
Fuck.
What now?
Whoop, there it is.
So, our boy knows now, finally. Uncle Sully came through with the, uh, sort-of pep-talk? *snort* I love that dude.
And Icky Vicky earned herself another strike. Shocker ;)
Thank y'all for still reading and being so great! I really appreciate it.
And thank you to my wonderful team, annaharding, maplestyle, and hotteaforme for being my rocks xo