66 Still gone

**Date = 1 July**
**Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)**

**POV - Aria**

As my tongue eventually detaches from the back of my mouth, I manage to ask in an unsteady voice, “Eh … so … where’s the little angel?”
I need something to distract my focus from the manly specimen now standing next to me. Inches away. While pretending his look of intense longing directed at my mouth doesn’t affect me one bit. Bloody hell, he makes things hard.
And speaking of hard things … my eyes dart to his swollen crotch. At least he’s also feeling the heat in some way.
“Angel?” he snorts out a chuckle. “I’m not sure that word suits our little runaway. She definitely shares Lee’s DNA. For a moment, I even assumed she could very well be my twin’s offspring.”
Just the thought of Jackson reproducing pin-wheels my brain, and I lose my chain of thought. I look at Charlotte to help a girl out, but she just lifts her shoulders and pouts.
“That’s stupid,” she tweets, “To have a baby, you need love, marriage, respect, and consent. They teach you that in school. Don’t you guys know anything?” Oh, the innocence of youth. “None of you guys are married, Leyla said.”
“Eh,” Enrique is a little stunned, “R-i-g-h-t. That was stupid of me to think that.” He bites back a smile. “My brother is undoubtedly saving himself for a white wedding … like me.” I roll my eyes at the thought that any of them are saving themselves. A chuckle resonates from the couch, and I notice Axel’s tall body lazily sprawled out on it. I thought he was lost. With the other G.I. Joes.
“Hey, Ginger,” he smirks. “Long time no see.” I smile at him and nod. That’s all I can muster right now.
“The *little angel* is on the beach.” He lowers the words slightly. “For some reason, her energy levels are as sassy as her attitude.” He points through the large open sliding doors.
“A fair warning … that one can be a bit … eh … harsh,” Enrique adds. I can handle harsh. I have raised my little sister after all. And look who’s talking. He’s probably as harsh as they come.
I stand up straight on my still wobbly legs and level him with a look that attempts scornful indifference, but probably falls miles short of it, given how many of my body functions are on the verge of collapsing.
I say acidly, “You should know.”
“Ouch,” he smirks and slaps a hand on his heart. His gaze drops to my mouth again. He moistens his lips. His eyes are burning with … dare I say … heated desire.
Nope. I’m not going there. My heart hasn’t even begun to heal — it’s still a raw mess. I can’t deal with this now, so I turn to look out the window, feeling his gaze burning into my back.
My eyes freely squint as the midday sun reflects off the ocean, the harsh, bright rays blinding me. My hand moves to block them, and only then do I notice the small figure wildly chasing after seagulls — arms waving like propeller blades. Her lengthy ponytail swings to and fro, shimmering a variety of hues in the sun, from bright gold to dark toffee.
Laughter echoes through the air, creating a vigorous cacophony of exuberant zest, as it combines with the calm waves and the loud, raw vocalizations of the birds. It roars into my soul, expelling every tiny bit of melancholy to exchange it with the zing of life. For the first time in a long while, a genuine warm smile covers my face.
Let’s face it … right now, no one is ecstatically happy. Everyone just exists, trying to get through another strained day, while hoping to stay alive and in one piece without losing a loved one.
“She looks like fun,” Charlotte squeaks, twirling her dark hair around her finger.
That she does.
Fascinating how kids can differ from each other even at this age. Even from this distance, I can tell you that this girl is poles apart from artsy Leyla, who differs totally from queen Charlotte, who is, in turn, nothing like bookworm Olivia.
“River!” Enrique calls out from the pool area, and the girl stops in her tracks. What for a name is that? Hippy? Gypsy?
He gestures for her to come. She whirlwinds straight towards him and unexpectedly jumps onto his body, wrapping her arms around his neck. He manages to catch her without losing too much balance.
“I’m hungry,” she snaps. I smile. A little Lee.
Axel chuckles from the sofa.
“I’ll feed you, kid,” he says, a laugh caged in his throat
River spats a kiss on the frozen robot’s cheek and drops down. She follows him back to the kitchen like a miniature drill sergeant in scuffed Vans. Then she notices us for the first time. She tilts her head and glares at Charlotte and then at me.
“Hello,” she smiles, deep dimples in her rosy cheeks. “Are you part of the click, too?”
“No, she’s part of my harem,” Enrique answers, grabbing me from behind. “And the little one just wandered along.” I roll my eyes, and Charlotte laughs. At least someone finds it funny.
“I’m Charlotte,” Charlotte giggles, now softer.
River squints as if figuring out if we’re trustworthy or not.
Her eyes. It feels as if I were dropped in an icy ocean where jaded sea grass twirls in pale turquoise water. A shiver runs down my spine.
On the other hand, Enrique’s warm breath in my ear heats through my blood.
Hot and cold. Frozen and electrified. Now I know what it feels like when you drop a warm toaster into your cold bath.
“You always let strange children into your space?” she asks. Enrique lets out a chuckled snort. I wonder what her family eats for breakfast. It must be the same ego-building cereal, the Blackburns grew up on.
Even Charlotte seems a little taken aback.
“Only the feral ones,” Axel mutters, still stretched out on the sofa. “The normal ones are invited.”
“I’m gonna kill Lee for making me crash with Tweedledee and Tweedledum, I swear,” River hisses, this time she’s doing the eyerolling.
Disregarding the color difference, this girl matches the exact devilish inferno perfected by both Lee and Jackson. And I’m gonna take a wild guess that she’s just as much of a handful.
Without being judgmental.
“I like you,” Charlotte then says, seemingly unaffected by that gaze. “And I have no bad vibe in my gut.” River pulls a strange face.
“Long story,” Charlotte giggles, doing a little dismissive wave.
“Thanks,” she answers, sounding a little unsure. “I like you too. We can be friends. As for my gut … it’s been tingling since I ate that toe nugget back in Portland.” She glowers at Enrique. “Or maybe I’m just dying from hunger over here.” Enrique lets me go and opens the fridge.
“If you pull out another compost bar, I’ll karate kick you in the soul,” she threatens. Again, Axel is laughing from his dormant position. I figure we’d better feed her before she sets something on fire.
“Alright, alright, come on,” I say, already grabbing the bread. “You’re getting food. Real food. You win.”
“I always win,” she says, arms crossed, head tilted as if expecting a bar fight. “But thank you for acknowledging my suffering.” She sure has a way with words. Just like Lee.
I fish ham, tomatoes, lettuce, and mayo from the fridge and start working on some sandwiches. Enrique tries to help, but he’s more of a distraction than an advantage.
“Just go and bother Axel for a bit,” Enrique sneers at the girls. “He loves all the tragic Disney movies.”
“Yeah, don’t know much about that,” River says, “I mean … I’ve watched all the movies with my … eh, with Lee … but I don’t like how they portray their princesses.” I roll my eyes, seeing Lee psycho-analyzing every plot, and River drinking it in.
Axel suddenly sits up and peeks over the backrest. “You hate Disney princesses?”
“Not hate … but come on —” River snorts, waving her hands like she is allergic to tiaras. “They’re all singing and brushing their hair and talking to birds and stuff.”
“I thought girls your age loved princesses,” Enrique says. So did I.
Leyla loves them. I still do.
River scoffs. “Yeah, if you’re brainwashed.” Yeah, definitely a little harsh.
“I like them,” Charlotte says. Clearly … she is about one herself.
“That’s cool, Lottie.” She stares at Charlotte, and I smile at the nickname. “If you like them, you like them. Just make sure you like them because you choose to like them, and not because you think you should.” Deep. Lee sure has a big influence on her.
River cracks her knuckles. “Think about it … the pretty one ran into the woods to adopt seven tiny old men with zero boundaries, and is then dumb enough to eat a rotten apple she gets from an ugly, creepy old lady … knowing her stepmother wants to kill her. She had to know better, right?”
No one says a word, probably from shock. “Now, the Universal Pictures version … same story … but at least she’s a badass. And she’s got Thor on her side.”
It takes me a minute to understand how the god of thunder ended up in a fairy tale.
“What about Cinderella?” I dare to ask. No little men. No scary witches. A cute fairy-godmother.
River rolls her eyes dramatically. “Real pity party, that one. No backbone. She should try therapy instead of relying on mice to solve her problems.”
“Hey, those mice were cute,” Enrique says.
“So is the turtle squishy on your bed, but I don’t see you talking to it.”
“It’s my sister’s turtle,” he mutters, voice twitching on the edge of amusement. “And she definitely talks to it.”
Words evade me. I can just gape and listen. “Really, just grow a pair and punch those sisters already … bibbidy-bobbidy-BAM — problem solved.”
Charlotte’s mouth falls open, eyes round as saucers, like she’s just heard the most unholy confession of her short life.
“Surely you like the little mermaid?” Charlotte’s nose wrinkles, lips parting like she’s about to protest in court — because really, who doesn’t like Disney princesses?
But she’s battling a losing case.
“Ariel gave up her voice for a man she’s never met, who, ironically, fell in love with the voice, not the girl. Sixteen and mute … now there’s a role model for you.”
Axel chokes on some spit. I nearly lose a finger cutting a tomato. I’m sure Charlotte is having a stroke. But River is on a roll.
“Aurora is even worse … slept through her entire plot. Literally. Like, she’s out cold the whole movie and then wakes up because some stranger walked into her castle and kissed her without permission? That’s a lawsuit, right there.”
Enrique is wheezing. “Please, go on.”
“Belle’s a snooze … but hey, at least she reads. And I can see the appeal of getting an oversized dog with a library and some chatty furniture.”
“Who do you like, then?” I ask.
River shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe Mulan. Or that Scottish ginger one. They can fight and don’t wait around for a dude in tights to rescue them. Lee says a real princess slays her own dragons.” Suddenly, I like Lee even more. And this is something I’m going to carry over to Leyla.
“My sister loves Tangled,” I say. River narrows her eyes. “Yeah, that one’s okay, I guess. A little ADHD, but the girl knows how to use a pan.”
Smiling in the guise of regret, our slightly rattled expressions apparently don’t go unnoticed. Maybe having extraordinary eyes makes you more alert.
“Sorry,” she scratches her head, then says softly in a slightly timid, embarrassed voice, “I have, uh, brain hiccups sometimes. Lee blames the ster-eo-typical image.” She battles with the word. “I blame the upbringing.”
“You’re kind of wild … and harsh,” Charlotte eventually finds her voice. “But you’re honest. And fun. I like that.”
River nods. “I get that a lot.” I grab some juice boxes — Mel suddenly has Mango and Berry cravings — from the stock in the fridge.
Enrique picks up the tray with food and drinks, enough to feed a small army.
“Let’s go eat.” River runs and jumps onto the sofa, merely missing Axel. Charlotte giggles and follows as fast as her heels allow.
Sitting cross-legged on the couch in a hoodie three sizes too big, her blonde hair in a messy ponytail, and a suspicious glint in her jade eyes, she suddenly focuses all her attention on me while she chugs a sandwich.
“You’re Aria,” she says, as if judging my whole existence. I realize the kid bulldozed over our introduction.
“Guilty,” I smile warmly, trying to make the right impression, while I make sure Enrique doesn’t take berry juice, knowing he’s allergic to strawberries.
She points at my face. “You wear makeup to a hostage crisis?” What? How? Weird.
I blink. “I didn’t know it was a crisis.” I really didn’t. I’m just here for the costumes. It was supposed to be a quick in and out.
She tilts her head. “Still. Bold,” she says between bites. “And expertly done, might I say.”
She jams the last bite in, jaw working like a trash compactor.
“BTW …” she swallows. “Lee says real pretty girls don’t need much makeup. And you’re really pretty. Like Lee. So that’s why you get away with just these little smudges on your face.” I’ll take the compliment. Strange … but yeah, Lee has a really beautiful face. And an unorthodoxed way to lecture his sister. She sucks the juice box like her soul depends on it.
“But you should not cover your freckles … they’re kinda sexy.”
I open my mouth to reply and realize I have absolutely no comeback.
“I agree,” Enrique chuckles in my ear.
“You sure you’re nine?” I ask, my voice caught between disbelief and desperation, as if this is the part I just can’t process. Enrique twitters some more.
“She’s been like this the whole time. We tried to give her a nap. She bit Axel.”
“It was a warning nibble … more like a tiny, little peck,” River says matter-of-factly, grabbing her third sandwich. “Have you seen the man. He’s hot.”
“That he is,” I agree.
I laugh again. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel lighter, happier. And then I look at Enrique, and my stomach twists.
Lee is still gone.