When the sound of the doorknob jiggling broke the quiet I had been steeping in, I smirked, my fingers threading through the soft cat fur. I heard a sigh from Chris behind me, tired from what I could not say (the trip from the basement to upstairs wasn't Mount Everest by any means), and drop something to the floor, before he paused.

     "Goddamnit, Stella, how do you keep breaking into my room? This isn't normal sibling behaviour!" he complained, groaning. "And I bought the damn heavy-duty doorknob this time!"

     The smirk toying on my lips only deepened as I swivelled around in the office chair, which I had strategically placed in the middle of the room, with all the notes of an age-old mafia boss. I continued lacing my fingers in the fur. "We've been waiting for you."

     Chris threw his hands up in frustration with furrowed brows, frowning. "Stella! Goddamn! You have to stop stealing Mrs. Townsend's cat! You can't keep doing this!"

    I blatantly ignored him. "I have recently come across some interesting information," I hummed, narrowing my eyes on him. "Dare I say, fascinating."

     "She's going to call the cops on you. Seriously. You have a problem. Cat-napping is not okay. Also, are you bleeding?" 

      I ignored the poignant sting up my arms from when Snickers, my trusted sidekick for the entire operation, had taken a little convincing to sit so nicely in my arms. Fifteen minutes of convincing. And Snickers was not declawed.

     "Let the cat go," he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

     I frowned. "But he's important. For the operation."

     "Snickers has to go home now."

     "Snickers is having fun here!" I insisted, but Chris looked less than convinced. "The fuck you know Snickers wants. Snickers is an independent cat that doesn't need no man to make its decisions," I mumbled, looking away.

     I looked down at Snickers. Snickers didn't care. 

     Chris shot me a dry look. "Let go of the cat."

     There was a moment where both of our glares sparked in the air, but then I threw my hands up in surrender, only to watch with heartbroken eyes as Snickers wasted no time in bolting out the door behind Chris.

     "Traitor!" I called out after the cat, but it fell on deaf ears. Damn you, Snickers.

     Chris' arms remained crossed, a tired, arched brow directed at me. "Cool. Now leave."

     I sighed, reaching down next to me for the baseball bat I had strategically placed there before, the sunlight glinting against the polished wood. "That's all right, I felt the cat would help with the intimidation factor, but this will do fine," I mused, palming the ege of the wood with a grin.

     Chris opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then immediately closed it again. His eyes narrowed, and he took a cautious step back. "What do you know?"

     "Me?" I asked, light and airy, the manic grin never faltering as I rose to my feet. "I mean, what could I possibly know that would upset me, Chris? What could it possibly be?"

     I blinked, dragging the bat against the carpet floor as I took a step forward. Chris took another step back, running into the door.

     "I haven't touched her, she's turning eighteen in January, this has all been very legal." He lifted in hands in innocence. "Super, super legal."

     "Who's she, Chris? Who could that be? It wouldn't be my best friend of ten years would it? That wouldn't be the she you speak of, right?"

     "It was her id- mostly, kind of her idea. Stella, put the bat down. This is a bad idea," he said, eyes darting from the bat to my face and then back again. "You probably don't want to do this."

    "I don't?" I asked, now toe-to-toe with brother dearest, drawing the bat up to rest next to his face. "Because I think- I think I might."

     "Savannah would probably be super upset," he reminded me, pressing up as much as he could against the door. "Also- Mom! Mom Stella's going to beat me up with a baseball bat! Mother! Save me!"

     I sighed, shaking my head. "What a pathetic excuse for a human being. But you aren't completely wrong."

      Chris blinked, bewildered. "I'm not?"

     "Savannah has specifically put in a request that I don't disembowel you- at the moment, of course. Very temporary. Super intangible. If you make her ever even consider a single tear, that will immediately be revoked. I will be watching you like a hawk. This baseball bat is very close to becoming very best friends with your rectum, Chris, so very close," I warned him, voice low and dark. "No lube."

     Chris paused, then swallowed. "Okay. Right. Got it. Point well received. Baseball bat up the ass. Loud and clear."

     I gave a confirming nod, and then slowly withdrew the bat from next to his face. "Great. Glad to have this conversation."

     Now that Chris was no longer seconds away from being maimed via baseball bat, a grin had inexplicably found his face. "Wow, look at you, discussing things like an adult. Is that you, Stells? I feel like a couple of months ago and you would've gone straight for the balls."

     A too-wide grin split my face as I tapped my temple. "I've learned psychological warfare is where it's at, really."

     Chris' face immediately dropped and he stepped to the side, giving me a free exit from the room. I laughed as I brushed past him, leaning the baseball bat against my shoulder, a sense of satisfaction swelling within me.

     "Also, I'll be making a huge mess in the kitchen today, and that's got your name all over it," I warned him, turning my head and flashing him an impish grin.

     He scratched the back of his head, brows furrowed. "I feel like it doesn't, though."

     I paused. "I feel like you really want to become acquainted with dear ol' batty boy here," I mused, waving the bat for good measure. 

     A sheepish grin flickered across his face and he pointed his index finger at me. "You got it, lil sis. You know I got you."

     I snorted, rolling my eyes and turning on my heel. Whatever Savannah saw in Chris was totally beyond me, like an angel from above taking interest in a dung beetle, as far as I was concerned. But all night she'd insisted that he hadn't been blackmailing her, or drugged her, or done any sort of black magic (that she knew of- they jury was still out, though, honestly), and when Eva had finally interrupted my interrogation to ask the romantic type things, this really dumb grin slipped on Savannah's face that I couldn't deny looked good on her. 

     A life without the two of them had already been very clearly illustrated, and if it meant allowing Savannah and Chris to do whatever they did, with some very, very strict ground rules of course, well, I didn't have the heart to stand in their way. 

     But the baseball bat threat still stood.

     When I padded down the stairs to the kitchen, within the stainless steal, dark wood and tiled floors stood my mom. Her blonde hair fell in wisps to her shoulders, and she wore a slouchy sweater that fell off her shoulder, as she held the mug of tea to her lips. At my presence she looked up, and a smile lit up her face.

     "Your brother's still alive up there?" she asked, eyebrow arched.

     I heaved a sigh. "Unfortunately, but you know, one day we'll find peace," I sighed, leaning the bat against the wall,

     "That is my son you're talking about," she reminded me, smiling into her tea.

     "I know- how sad that you have to deal with that. Thank god you have such a wonderful daughter to make up for it." I flashed her a cheeky grin. 

     "The best," she agreed with a chuckle, setting her tea mug down.

     There was a moment of quiet, and I found myself unable to keep my mom's grey gaze. "Hey, I- I just wanted to say, sorry again. Really. I was acting really immature, and dumb, and kind of blew up at you when you weren't even a problem. I was really terrible, I'm sorry mom." I scratched the back of my head, sucking my teeth with guilt.

     "Hey," she murmured, drifting over to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. "I know, don't worry, I know. It's my job as a mom to know these things." 

     I sighed, scrunching my nose. "I know, but I still feel bad. You didn't deserve it. And as much as it pains me to say it... maybe he didn't either."

     When I cautiously met my mom's eye, I could tell we both knew who I meant. It still felt weird forming my lips around the word, so I just kept it at the pronoun level. Still, the words almost came as a surprise to myself.

     "Yeah?" she hummed, eyebrows raised.

     "I- I'm not ready to talk to him yet, and I don't know when I will be, but... but you can tell him I'm sorry, if you want. You wouldn't be wrong. I don't know if and when I'll talk to him, but, well, yeah. You can say I'm sorry," I mumbled, kicking my shoe into the ground, the words feeling jumbled on my tongue.

     I looked up to find my mom's warm smile, and couldn't help the one that appeared on my own face as she enveloped me into her arms and planted a kiss on the top of my head. I squeezed her close. "Mom, I love you."

     "I love you too, Stels. I'm so proud of you," she murmured into my hair.

     "So proud that you'll help me out with something?" I asked, peeking up at her. "Pretty please?"

      She pulled away, blinking down at me. "Hmm, hun?"

     "I need a basket. Like, an enormous basket. I'm talking the emperor of all the baskets in the land. Big."

  ***

     Hours later, with flour smeared across my cheeks, dried batter splattered across my forearms, and the sweet smell of melted chocolate wafting around me, I was finally finished. I wiped my hands off on my favourite apron, which now was caked in more batter, spilled yolks, and baking powder, and drew a deep breath.

     A grin had appeared unconsciously on my face, and I was once again reminded of why baking had already enticed me. The delicious aroma swathed all my senses in a blanket of delight, and a sense of pride swelled in my chest as I stared at my creation, my grin turning manic as I counted.

     Forty muffins. Forty goddamn muffins.

     There was banana, blueberry, chocolate chip, pecan, carrot, and apple strudel. A sea of different colours, all arranged perfectly in the emperor of baskets my mom had gotten me, true to her word. When I wiped the sweat off my forehead, the fruits of my labour grinning back at me in muffin form. I really wasn't playing around with this.

     I knew the way to Eva and Savannah's hearts, but Reese, well, Reese was a different story. I knew I had to apologize to him, especially considering the realization that I may have wanted to do the whole hold hands sometimes and maybe kiss thing every once in a while, with him, which was still a weird thing to swallow but somehow felt a little right.

     Which is how I concluded with: muffins. Everyone loved a good muffin. And when I couldn't decide which flavour was his favourite, I decided on all of them.

     Chris appeared in the door way, apparently seduced by the smell of baked goods, nose upturned with interest. "You got any leftovers?"

     I lifted the apron over my head and tossed it across the counter, which was also absolutely covered in the remnant of my baking hurricane. Usually it pained me to look at, but instead it spurred a grin to my face.

     "Nope! But have fun cleaning up!" I chirped, grabbing the handle of the basket and carefully swinging it next to me out the door. I heard Chris grumble, but unsurprisingly, no complaint.

     It wasn't as if I would not milk the entire Chris-Savannah thing for all it had.

     Still, I couldn't ignore the nerves that were igniting underneath my skin, bringing a tightness to my chest and grabbing a hold of my lungs. When I shrugged on a jacket, the skin darkening and holding hints of the oncoming winter, the shiver that danced down my spine was not because of the cold.

     It felt as if it had been an eternity since I'd talked to Reese, and closing the distance between my house to his felt even longer. Savannah, Tyler, and Eva had all continuously reassured me that it would be fine- Reese knew me, knew that I hadn't meant it, and probably felt the same way. Although I was pretty sure it was only because the bleaker option, that he hated me and would never speak to me again, wasn't as nice to say.

     Swallowing my fears along with the lump that had formed in my throat, I trekked up his porch steps, squared m shoulders, drew a deep breath, and dipped my finger into the doorbell.

     The familiar chime echoed through the house, and I gripped the basket with bated breath. All the swirling doubts that had been running rampant in my mind clamoured in my ears, but I stood there, refusing to run away. I'd hurt Reese, and I had to apologize. Somehow, I knew, I needed for him to hear me out. Even if he didn't care for me at all, even if my feelings were completely one-sided and just a continuation of the ever-unrequited that had been my M.O. for the last few years, I needed for him to hear that I was sorry.

     When the door opened, my breath hitched in my throat. But it wasn't Reese who faced me.

     An older woman with dark hair pulled into a tight bun and pearls clutched to her throat gave me a polite smile, who I faintly recognized as Reese's mom. My eyes widened and my mouth parched. Weirdly enough, this was not a scenario I was prepared for.

     "Yes?" she asked, staring me down with expectant eyes.

     "Um, uh, is Reese home?" I asked, coming out much more like a squeak than intended.

     The woman nodded, taking a step back and turning her head to the other room. "Reese, the neighbour girl is here to see you," she called into the house. "She has muffins." 

     Down the hall, I saw him step in, causing my muscles to freeze. He paused for a moment, drinking me in, my heart thudding wildly in my ribcage. And then continued walking into the other room.

     "Tell her I'm not home," he called back, his tone dry.

     My pulse stuttered.

     "Reese!" his mom chastised him, shock in her words. "I'm so sorry, that was so rude. I don't know what to do with him."

     Sympathy melded in her light eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to meet them. Instead, I took a deep breath, ignored my stomach dropping to the pits of hell, and plastered on a believable smile.

     "Don't worry about it. It must be a bad time. I'll, maybe, come by some other time," I reassured her, nodding my head slowly, trying to convince myself more than her, honestly. "It's fine."

     A frown punctuated Reese's mom face. "I'm sorry again."

     I didn't know how to respond, and so I didn't, turning on my heel and hopping down the steps, muffin basket in hand.

    But it didn't matter. Tomorrow, I would go again. I'd find him at school. I'd hunt him down. I didn't care if I was going to be chucking muffins at the back of his head all day, I was going to get him to talk to me, one way or another. I wasn't giving up on him. And if he didn't forgive me- fine, but I was at least going to try with all I had. 

     Just as I was crossing his lawn to mine, already conjuring another immaculate plan in my head, I heard my name being called. I paused, the voice too familiar, and turned to see that Reese had followed me out. His face was illuminated by the porch light, bushy brows and crooked nose and mole and all. It was the closest I'd seen him since the fight, and I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat.

     Before I could say anything, he was holding a hand out. "Muffins."

     I blinked, processing the moment before slowly handing the basket over, completely bewildered. "Reese, I-"

     "I come for muffins and muffins only. This isn't me accepting your apology. Good day."

      As he retreated back to his house, muffins and my dignity in hand, I felt my mouth purse. "Reese I swear, I'm going to make you accept my apology if it's the last thing I do!"

     "I'd like to see you try!"

     As the door swung closed behind him, leaving me standing between our two houses in the autumn breeze, I swear I could hear a smile in his voice.

*** 

so as you know, this is supposed to be the penultimate chapter. and it may or may not be! i have a lot of things i still need to write and i'm not sure if i can squish it all into one chapter, SO WHO KNOWS. I COULD BE A LYING LIAR WHO ACTUALLY HAS TWO MORE CHAPTERS LEFT. i hope you guys aren't devestated ahahah. c: 

but omg so close to the end. so close. can we discuss. 

also thank you so much to everyone who has nominated me for thefictionawards humour category! it really means a lot to me that i didn't even mention it and you guys thought of me! not that me mentioning it should stop you ahahaha i kid i kid, but actually, thank you guys so much! you guys are the sweetest readers! 

WHO'S READY FOR THE END?