Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I stare at the phone for the next fifteen minutes, waiting for a response. Nothing comes. Swallowing down my emotion, I exit the stall and find my family waiting for me with my bag. I sling it on over my shoulders, my phone still clasped in my death grip. We make it through the crowded area to our gate. As we stand in line, waiting to board, my mind drifts to Alis.
Stupid bleached-blond hair and fathomless brown eyes.
Taunting grins.
Soft, keening moans when I swallow his pierced dick.
The way he becomes hyper-focused when working on a sculpture, ignoring everything and everyone around him.
His teasing laughter when we watch Mubōna Ikari together and I geek out on all the scenes.
It’s only been days, and I miss him more than I thought possible. There’s no way I can go back to school next week without him. I can’t carry on like my heart didn’t just get up and leave.
The line moves slowly, so I flip back over to Instagram. His last posted picture was when we were skiing at the resort. It was a selfie of us—both of us wearing snow gear, sunglasses, and huge matching grins. The hashtag said #DaisukeAndChibi.
Pain and despair are anchors on my feet, dragging me under and blinding me in an abyss of what-ifs. All I can do is stare at our picture, the both of us so fucking happy, and try desperately not to cry. Dad clasps a hand on my shoulder, and I fall against him, losing the battle with my emotions. He hugs me tight, whispering assurances I want to believe.
We’ll get him back home soon.
Don’t worry about a thing.
He’ll come back to us.
The line moves, and Dad shifts us forward some. My phone buzzes in my hand. I tug away from him, hoping for a text from Alis. No text. But he’s posted a picture. It’s a selfie. He looks strange wearing a suit, and he’s not smiling, but the bottle of Coke in his hand makes my stomach flip. There’s a person in the background of the picture—some guy dressed in a black suit—glaring at him. Above that guy is the house number 1141. His hashtag says #IWantToSeeMyCat. Seconds later, there’s a private message—just one word. At first, I don’t understand why he says the word “First,” but then I realize it’s the street name.
He wants to go home.
He wants me.
Dad urges me closer to the gate where an airline worker waits. I shake my head in disagreement.
“N-No. I’m not getting on that flight.”
Quinn frowns at me. “What? Why?”
“I know where he is. I’m going to go get him.”
Dad’s eyes widen, and Quinn starts to cry tears of relief. Carrie squeals from beside me.
“The line’s moving,” the guy behind us complains.
Dad nods his head away from the gate. “Come on. We have flights to reschedule. We’re going to go get our boy.”
Our boy.
He doesn’t have to tell any of us twice. Twenty minutes later and we’ve nailed down flights to St. Louis.
We’re coming, Wonderland.
He’ll understand soon what family really means.
With ours, it’s feuds and reckless fury.
Fights and frustration and taking each other for granted.
But it also means love and forgiveness and home.
It means standing beside the ones you love even when they piss you off, and you want to hate their guts because…they’re your fucking family. Families stick together.
Not unlike Mubōna Ikari. Loyalty to your blood but also to the ones you claim as your own. You fight for them until the end.
He may have started as a no-one to me and then became my enemy. But, over time, hate twisted beautifully into love, and he became mine.
My choice. My love. My family.
We’re imaginary cat daddies together.
He’s coming back home to us, and when I finally get him in my arms, I’m never letting him go.
Alister
I don’t want to do this.
I’d rather stay locked up in my room, waiting for Canyon to come get me.
If he comes.
Sickness roils in my gut, but I ignore it. He will come. I know Canyon. Never once in all his messages did he lead me to believe he was through with me. If anything, his frustration and desperation to see me only increased as time went on.
He’ll pick me up, and we’ll run away together to our fake apartment with our made-up cat. Fuck, how I want it to be real.
“Get in,” Greer barks out, motioning to his SUV. “We’ll follow the boss to the rendezvous point.”
Colin’s stare lingers on me and then darts to Greer before he climbs into the passenger seat of the other vehicle. Mark hops in the driver’s seat while Seth and Logan get in the back. I get into Greer’s SUV, not at all eager to be blasted by his obnoxious rock music the entire ride.
As soon as I’m situated and buckled in, I tug at the tight knot at my throat. I hate suits. I especially hate ties. Greer seemed entertained by my discomfort when we picked up my new clothing at the store. Colin’s pleased expression later that night chased away any ill feelings I had. I’d always felt like a fuckup around Colin as a kid. Knowing he approved was a lift to my spirits. The subsequent dinner and a trip afterward to see The Gateway Arch together only further improved my mood. But, just like every other night I’d been here, I went to sleep to the sounds of Greer making Kace squeal like a pig and then haunting nightmares filled with mice and disappointing words from Dad.