Dedicated to @Mystery_25 for the banner she made on the side. <3 Thank you so much. 

Chapter 13

The front porch was illuminated by a dull white light bulb. Inside the house, however, it didn't seem like there were any lights on, if the dark windows were any indication. If I had other options, I never would have gone here willingly this late at night, but Austin and I literally had no other leads as to where Tori and Lewis must have gone.

Add Hunter, who was lazily seated between Austin and me, to our ever-growing list of things to deal with for the night. Obviously, we really needed a phone.

I looked up at the small yellow house, trying to convince myself that this wasn't a bad idea after all. Austin stood right beside me, eyeing the house with a scrutinizing gaze that mirrored his doubt in me and my plan quite obviously.

"Whose house is this, anyway?" he asked me when I still haven't made any move to ring the doorbell.

I tried not to let him know how uncomfortable I was with this plan either. "My great aunt's."

He turned to me, looking thoroughly horrified. "Your—"

"Yes."

"Dude, old people sleep at, like, seven and—"

"Shut up." I rang the doorbell before he could say more.

To be perfectly honest, I wasn't as confident as I wanted to be about this. It wasn't that I was worried about my Aunt Rosie and Uncle Silas  would shoo us away or anything. In fact, I was worried about the exact opposite.

Even before my grandmother died, Aunt Rosie had always seen me as her real granddaughter. She never had kids of her own, so she saw my mom as her own daughter. She absolutely adored me, which might have made her spoil me a little bit too much, and I was sure that if she saw me out at such a "late hour," she wouldn't exactly appreciate it.

I rang the doorbell again, wondering if she and Uncle Silas had already gone to bed.

"Maybe we shouldn't bother them," Austin suggested, just as I heard the sound of muffled footsteps from inside.

"Don't worry," I said, more to myself than him.

He gave me a How can I not worry look, which I pointedly ignored.

I could tell Austin was about to say something, probably another complaint, but the door was already creaking open before he could even say anything. Uncle Silas peeked from the slight gap between the door and the doorframe, squinting in the darkness.

"Hi, Uncle Sil," I said brightly, fixing a wide smile on my face.

"Bridget, is that you?"

"It's me," I said, slightly louder than usual. "Reed."

A lot of people have told me that I looked a lot like my mother. Whenever I visited Aunt Rosie and Uncle Sil by myself, they almost always mistake me for her at first glance. I waited as Uncle Sil continued to look at me, before opening the door completely, revealing him in his blue and white striped pajamas.

"Reed?" He gave me a wide toothless smile before ushering me into a bear hug. Despite his old age, he'd never really gotten overly fat. Sure, he'd gained some weight over the years, but he had always beenl fit. "You youngsters, always out so late! Nearly gave me a heart attack."

Extricating myself from his hug, I cleared my throat and gestured to Austin, who seemed positively squeamish as he stood there. I couldn't exactly blame him because Uncle Sil still carried the same confidence he'd gotten from working in the navy years ago.

"Uncle Sil," I said, "this is Dic—this is Austin. My... friend."

Uncle Sil stepped forward a bit. I was absolutely horrified when he gave him a fiercely scrutinizing look. Austin was taller than him, but I could almost see him cowering from the look my great uncle was giving him. Uncle Sil had gone completely military on Austin, with his hands clasped behind his back and his chest puffed out.

Dear god.

"Austin, is it?" he asked him, all strict and stern despite everything else.

Austin straightened his back, as if to stand even taller. He sent me a panicked glance and I could almost see him gulping. "Yes, sir."

Uncle Sil didn't let on. He nodded curtly, but didn't look away from Austin's eyes. "And why, might I ask, are you with our little Reed—"

"Oh, my gosh, Uncle Sil," I said, cutting him off and trying to will away the blush on my cheeks. I would have liked to see Austin squirm just a little bit more, but I was pretty sure I knew where this conversation would lead if I let it take its course, so interrupted before things went from bad to worse. "I'll explain everything later. I need to pee."

Uncle Sil looked away from Austin to turn to me. I gave him my best I really need the bathroom look, shifting my weight to the other foot. The man looked from me to Austin, who seemed to stand up a little straighter, and then to Hunter. "Is this your dog?"

"Uncle Sil," I said, "I'll explain everything. I just really, really need to pee."

"All right. Y'all come in."

I released a small sigh as Uncle Sil gave Austin another beady look before turning away and leaving the door open for us to come in.

"Red," Austin said, "are you sure we're not, I dunno, bothering them?"

"Are you scared of my Uncle Silas, Dick?"

He scowled. "No."

"Then let's go." I looked down at Hunter, who was just sitting there looking between us. "Come on, Hunter."

We entered the house. It had been a few weeks since Mom and I last visited here. After my parents' divorce, we started going here more often. This was almost a second home for me when I was younger. It hasn't changed much over the years, with its peach-colored wallpapers and perpetually cluttered furniture. (Aunt Rosie had a bad habit of purchasing stuff from those shopping network channels.)

Also, they were big believers in framing and displaying pictures. I suspect there were more pictures of me here than in our own house.

"Y'all take a seat while I go get you something to drink," Uncle Sil said before disappearing into the kitchen, muttering something about teenagers these days being out so late.

Just as I was about to go to the worn couch they'd had since forever, I heard the creaking of the stairs and recognized the familiar jasmine scent of Aunt Rosie's shampoo. I turned around to find her dressed in her sleeping robe.

"Bridget, is that you?"

I suppressed a sigh. "No, Aunt Rosie. It's me, Reed."

She took her time going down the stairs, but her eyes had brightened considerably. "Oh, dear. You look so much like your mother these days."

Walking closer, I offered a hand to help her down. She took it as she continued to take shaky steps down. "Sorry about coming in so late."

"Darling, you don't have to worry." We reached the last step and she turned to me, smiling so widely and wrapping me in an embrace that was much, much tighter than Uncle Silas's was. She buried me in her jasmine scent and I hugged her back. "You're welcome to visit anytime."

"Did I wake you up?" I said as soon as she pulled away.

"Oh, dear, no. Silas and I were up watching that horrible TV show. The one with all those skinny girls posing for pictures and talking and stuff."

I wasn't sure what she was talking about, but I let myself feel a little less guilty about dropping by just fifteen minutes before eleven. Behind me, Austin suddenly cleared his throat, reminding me that he was right there. Aunt Rosie looked up at him.

"Oh," she said, "and who might this young man be?" She looked at me, sending me a not-so-subtle wink along with a knowing look.

I wasn't sure which was worse—Uncle Silas's reaction or Aunt Rosie's. I fought the urge to bury my face in my hands as I walked a bit closer to Austin, trying to keep a neutral expression on my face as I gestured, vaguely, to his direction.

"This is Austin," I introduced him. "Austin, my Aunt Rosie."

 "We're sorry to barge in so suddenly like this." Austin sounded remorseful, taking me by surprise with his courteousness.

In any case, that was one point already for Aunt Rosie, who was still smiling suggestively at Austin and me.  "No need to worry, dear." Aunt Rosie waved him off with a hand, giving him a not-so-subtle smile that almost made me want to claw my eyes out of their sockets. "That's all right. Are you going to tell me what brought you here?"

Austin and I exchanged glances. I didn't know, exactly, how to tell this story without ending up spending a whole hour to explain everything. Why I didn't have a phone, why we were out looking for the Idiots together, or why there was a dog that belonged to neither of us currently lying down on their carpet.

My companion seemed to be suffering the same dilemma as I was, because he was giving me the you explain look. I scowled and looked away from him, trying not to comment on his uselessness. I turned back to Aunt Rosie.

"We just came to—"

I was cut off by Uncle Silas coming back into the room with a brown tray in his hands. "I hope you're both okay with milk."

The familiar sight of the white mugs was enough to lift my mood a little. I'd always loved the way Uncle Silas prepared milk for me. He would warm it up, add some honey and just a bit of cinnamon so that it tasted almost like I was drinking a warm sunset.

They made us sit on the longer couch as Aunt Rosie sat on the small one. Uncle Silas headed for the rocking chair on the corner of the room, but he repositioned it so that he was watching us. Hunter was still peacefully lying down the carpet, but neither Aunt Rosie nor Uncle Sil seemed to mind.

Before I could even begin explaining the situation, Uncle Silas was already asking questions.

"So, Dustin," he said.

"It's Austin," the dickhead corrected almost automatically, before quickly adding, "Sir."

"Dustin," Uncle Silas insisted.

Needless to say, I was cringing.

Uncle Silas really managed to seem intimidating, despite the fact that he was sitting on a rocking chair, wearing nothing but his striped pajamas. Austin, thankfully, decided not to argue with my uncle about his name. "Yes, sir?" Austin answered instead.

"How old are you?"

"Now, dear," Aunt Rosie said just as Austin opened his mouth to reply. "There's no need to scare little Reed's boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," I said just as Austin also disagreed.

Aunt Rosie giggled. Giggled, for Pete's sake. I didn't think old people even knew what giggling was. "I forgot you youngsters preferred to call it—what was that again? Dating. Back in the good ol' days, it wasn't like that."

"No," I said, feeling defensive all of a sudden. "We're not—Austin and I don't really—" I scrambled for the right words to say, but it was actually really difficult to do so, considering that Aunt Rosie kept giving us suggestive looks. "We're just friends."

"Is that how you call it now?" Aunt Rosie seemed genuinely perplexed about this, which would have been funny if I wasn't the one in question here.

"No, Aunt Rose. Austin and I just met tonight. We're not—we're not together."

Austin was fidgeting in his seat, looking just as uncomfortable as I was.

Uncle Silas leaned forward. "What brings you here, then?"

So I explained the whole thing to them. Okay, maybe not the whole thing. We told them the general flow of the night, leaving out the parts where I snuck into a club and almost got mauled by the Hulks. I told them about losing Tori (I visited them once or twice with Tori before) and Lewis. Austin remained silent as I continued talking about the night.

"Then, on our way to the park," I said, "we ran into Hunter along the way. There's a number on his collar, but we don't have phones, so I thought it might be a good idea to come here?"

"You mean to say the two of you have been running around the town for two hours already?" Aunt Rosie put a hand to her chest. "Oh, dear. You must be famished." She stood up.

"No, no, no," I said quickly, reaching out to hold onto the sleeve of her robe. "Really, it's all right. We're fine. We just ate."

"No," Aunt Rosie said in a tone that made it seem as if I'd deeply offended her. "I'll go fix you something and you should both sit tight and wait here."

"We don't want to impose," Austin told her, but my great aunt just shook her head. "It's fine. Really."

She lifted a hand warningly. "I won't let you use our phone until you both get something to eat."

Neither of us could stop her as she left the room, humming a tune under her breath.  I watched her retreating back before heaving a deep sigh. I reached for my mug and took a small sip, almost sighing in relief at the taste.

I turned to Austin, who still hadn't touched his mug. "Are you lactose-intolerant?"

"What?" I raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked at his mug. He followed the direction I was looking at and I noticed his eyes flit towards Uncle Silas before he decided to take it. "No, I'm not."

"You should try it," I told him.

He was eyeing the contents of the mug, like he wasn't sure what was in it (I was positive he thought Uncle Silas put poison or whatever in it), and he jumped a little when Uncle Sil cleared his throat. Austin immediately lifted the mug to his lips, taking a small tentative sip. I could tell he was pleasantly surprised with the taste, especially when he brought the rim back to his lips to take a bigger gulp.

When he lowered it, I snorted.

He stared flatly at me. "I have milk on my face, don't I?"

"No," I lied.

His eyes narrowed, but he wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand, which was kind of disgusting. I turned away from him and looked at Uncle Silas instead. I smiled at him after taking another sip of my drink.

"I miss drinking this, Uncle Sil."

"You should visit more often," he replied, his voice soft, nothing like the one he was fond of using when he was addressing Austin. "How's Bridget doing?"

"She's doing great," I replied honestly. That was one of the things I'd always thanked my mother for. She didn't let the divorce make her weak. Sure, a few weeks after my dad walked out on us, there was a period where it seemed like her life was this spool of thread that continued to unravel, tangling together as each day passed.

There were nights where I'd occasionally see her crying in her room, or sleeping in Dad's shirt, or a mix of both (which was always the worst), but she picked herself up and untangled the mess that was her life, spinning the thread back in place so that she seemed stronger than ever.

And for that, I was thankful. There was nothing more I could ask for.

"What about your father?" Uncle Sil suddenly brought up.

I froze. I wasn't used to talking about my father so blatantly. The question took me off guard, rendering me unable to deflect it as I would have normally done. Austin must have noticed, if his curious gaze was any indication, but he didn't say anything. I would have chosen not to, either, but Uncle Sil was waiting, so I cleared my throat and pushed past any negative thoughts.

"I haven't heard from him in a while," I replied, my eyes glued to the half-finished milk in my mug. "Just the usual."

Uncle Silas didn't say anything, but I could feel his watchful gaze on me.

 I kept my eyes downcast, setting my mug back on the table. Standing up, I wiped my palms on my jeans and excused myself to go to the bathroom. I didn't wait for either of them to say anything, so I left the living room as quickly as I could.

If there was anything I hated about having to deal with my dad, it was the fact that I would always be shaken off-balance when his name came up in conversations. It was like the usual calm and logical part of my consciousness would shut down and all of a sudden, I'm a bumbling idiot who can't even talk about the past.

My great aunt and uncle's little house had two bathrooms. One upstairs and the other by the kitchen. I didn't want to bother with the stairs, so I settled for the one next to the kitchen. I could hear the clattering of some dishes as Aunt Rosie worked on something and the scent of butter and garlic wafted from the kitchen.

Only when I got to the bathroom did I realize that I did need to pee.

After my trip to the bathroom, I headed for the kitchen instead, where Aunt Rosie was placing something in the oven.

"Hey," I said, walking closer. She was startled at first, letting out an audible gasp at first. When she turned to me, she smiled. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Oh, don't you worry, little Reed. I got this."

I leaned against the counter, looking at her as she set the timer and temperature on the oven. I wasn't sure what she prepared, but I already knew it was going to be delicious.

"Bridget should come here more often," she said as she straightened, heading for the sink. The faucet gave a small squeak as she turned it on, the sound of the water gushing out too loud in the silence of the night.

"I'll tell her," I said. "She's just really busy lately."

"She works herself too hard." She shook her head. The faucet gave another squeak as she turned it off, drying her hands on a towel by the dish-rack. She turned to me with a somber smile. "You've grown up so much, little Reed."

"You and Uncle Sil should stop calling me 'little' already," I told her.

"You'll always be our little Reed to us." She walked closer to the counter so that we were facing each other. "You got yourself a nice young man with you tonight."

I groaned. "Oh my god, Aunt Rosie,  can you not? He's not my boyfriend."

"Why, young lady, I never said he was." She winked, making my mouth drop open a little.

I recovered, rolling my eyes with a puff. "Well, he isn't."

"Who is, then?"

"No one," I replied, avoiding her expectant gaze. "I don't have a boyfriend."

I expected her to react to this with her usual antics about how I was young and I should have fun, because she'd always joked about me finding a boyfriend, but for some reason, she stayed silent, folding her hands together on the counter.

"What?" I asked her, knowing she was dying to say something.

She reached for my own hands and wrapped mine with her wrinkly fingers. "Reed, Silas and I have been married for a long time." She fixed me with a stare. "I know your parents didn't work out, but—"

I pulled my hands from hers. "It's not about that." I was surprised at the sharpness in my voice, immediately feeling bad about it. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right, little one." She lifted a hand to my face, tucking some loose strands of hair behind my left ear. "You must miss him."

I bit the inside of my cheeks, before heaving a deep sigh and shaking my head. "No." I pushed myself against the counter. "No, I don't."

When I got back to the living room, I was surprised to see that Uncle Silas was no longer in the room and Austin was standing by the fireplace, looking at some pictures hanging on the wall. I cleared my throat, making him look over his shoulder.

"Where's Uncle Sil?" I asked him.

"Went back to the bed," he replied.

I walked closer, almost reluctantly. He turned back to the photo he was examining. It was of me, a recent one, on my graduation. I was wearing my toga and Mom was standing right beside me.

"You look a lot like your mother," he said.

My mom and I wore identical smiles. Even with my light brown hair spilling in curls all over my shoulder and Mom's pinned on top of her head, there was no denying the resemblance between us.

"Except the eyes," Austin added, glancing ever so briefly at me. I did my best not to look at him. "You must have gotten those from your father."

I could almost hear the question in his voice. It was heavy with the implications of him missing from the picture and my hasty retreat when he was brought up earlier. He was asking without asking, and somehow, I wanted to answer without answering.

So I brought my gaze back to the photo, looking at my eyes, knowing they were similar to my dad's, and I replied, "Unfortunately so."

There was a pause, in which I wondered why I had even let this conversation happen, or why I admitted this to him of all people. I wondered what was going on through his head at that moment. When I looked up at him, his gaze was on something else, a smaller frame hanging a few inches below, of me when I was thirteen and was going through that awkward phase where I had to deal with having braces and acne.

Needless to say, it was a picture I wasn't exactly fond of.  

I scowled. "I clearly remember removing that picture thrice already." Automatically, I reached for it, but his hand shot out, grabbing me by the wrist. His long fingers were cold on my skin, making me catch my breath upon contact.

"That only means that they probably don't want to take it down." He forced my hand back until I dropped it back to my side. He put his back in his pocket. "Besides, you look cute here."

"What?" I spluttered out, feeling my ears heat up.

He pointed at the picture, a mischievous smile on his face. "Well, for starters, you don't look like you're about to snark on someone."

I crossed my arms over my chest.

"But," he continued, "it's a little sad, though." He smirked. "You didn't have your 'perfect boobs' here yet."

My mouth dropped open as I recalled that embarrassing conversation back at the Sluggers. "Oh my gosh, go die in a fire or something."

I stepped away from him, trying to ignore the heat creeping along my cheeks.

Behind me, I could hear him laughing.

For some reason, I wasn't as pissed as I would have normally been.

---

A/N: 

DUSTIN hahahahahaha and sorry if nothing much really happens, but I felt the need to establish the whole situation with Reed's father and how she feels about him at the moment. Also, while there might not be developments in terms of events, I think there's some... other developments towards the end, yeah? ;)