Chapter 62
Justice
“You think Leith and Erika made it?” I’m damn near hyperventilating as I stare at Chevelle. We’re still standing in the foyer.
Despondent, Chevelle then runs a tentative hand through her long tresses. Shoulders squared, she replies, “They made it—had to. Leith’s a speed demon.”
“Poor Erika,” we say in tandem.
I drop my hands onto the cool glass of the accent table, letting my gaze lower to the ground. Was it an hour ago that I arrived, grappling with Brody’s critical decision? Minutes ago, the drama hit home when Erika learned that her closest friends were en route to kill her father.
Chevelle mutters, “Is this one of those everything-that-could-go-wrong kinda days?”
“I would say don’t speak it into existence.” I snort. “Too late.”
She rolls her shoulders. “No, screw that. We’re rewriting the narrative—just like Erika’s attempting to do. We were left in charge of the little ones.”
“What should . . .” Flabbergasted, my tongue swipes my bottom lip.
“I’m turning Disney Plus on, and I’ll try to wrangle all the kids into one place. Oh,” she pauses from heading toward the stairway. “I should put the alarm on.”
“Leith did,” I reply. “While you both were helping Erika to the car, and he came back in here for the keys.”
“Aw, my husband is perfect. Even during the apocalypse, he will lock his family in the house and keep us safe.”
Images of being exiled to Brody’s pantry earlier come to mind. I smile a little and say, “I’ll make us a couple of drinks—non-alcoholic.”
“Girl, yessss. Drinks and, if you don’t mind, popcorn too. The boys love that stuff. But little miss Mia will lift her little pinkie acting like she’s drinking grown-up juice.”
I watch as Chevelle saunters up the steps. I’m a little in awe. She’s really good at this momming stuff. I meander into the kitchen, rolling my shoulders.
I shuffle out a sigh. “Well, they said to make myself at home.”
I’m looking through the pantry for popcorn when Rory pops his shaggy head into the door.
“Auntie Justice, are you allergic to anything?”
If I were, I wouldn’t tell you. “No, handsome. Why?”
“It’s so cool what happens to people when they’re allergic!” He goes into what his teacher explained in class.
I offer the proper verbal cues every once in a while, moving around the kitchen to pop popcorn. “Are there any big bowls?”
“Yeah,” he nods and heads to a cabinet.
“Justice?” Chevelle calls out to me. “Oh, Rory,” she enters, hoisting Mia in her arms. Jake flanks at her other hip. Chevelle’s eyes track around the massive kitchen. “I’ve been looking for you, honey. Lachlan’s turning the television on in the den. Did you find Jamie like I asked?”
Rory shakes his head.
“Where is my brother?” Jake tugs anxiously at her shirt. Tension stitches at her eyebrows, spreading taut across her face.
“Rory, how about you and Jake find the Parmesan cheese for the popcorn,” I tell him.
“It’s—”
“Let Jake help you.” I smile at him.
“Okay.” Rory mopes by me.