Abby had a similar room to Max and I. She had her own set of french doors that opened onto her private patio.

She'd done a lot more with that space than I had. Outdoor fairy lights wrapped around the steel railing, an outdoor two seater sofa was crammed into the left side while a few box plants with faux flowers in them sat on the other side.

The side of the house had a couple of metal garden art pieces surrounding her door frame.

She'd almost died putting those up last summer. She stood on the railing, leaning out with a fucking nail and hammer and she'd fallen off.

Forward thinking meant I was watching from the ground below and I caught her before she turned into a bag of broken bones on the drive way.

When I opened her bedroom door— after knocking of course. I'm not in the business of being greeted with a shoe to the face— I slipped inside and could see her legs on the patio outside.

Her bedroom wasn't girlish as in it was covered in pinks and purples. But it was feminine. She had about three boards worth of photos hanging above her bed which was never made.

The white spread sat in a pile on top of her mattress and her white furniture suite in the corner of the room was covered in products and different perfumes.

She had the biggest closet and the doors were made of mirror. She was notorious for hiding in their during a bitch fit. She could lock it from the inside and as she liked to tell us, her clothes calmed her. Dad said she was just like Mom.

I crossed the room and went outside, leaning against the railing. She was slouched on the sofa in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. She held her phone in front of her face with her brows furrowed. "What's up?" She mumbled, seeming uninterested.

I stood there for a moment and waited for her to remember I'd knifed her boyfriend's wheel last night.

But she didn't. She continued tapping her phone screen. Her bluetooth speaker sat in the corner of the patio and some sad ass shit was humming.

When it seemed as though she wasn't going to throw a fit, I figured I would prompt her a little.

"How was your night?"

"It was fine," she nodded, still not looking up. "Your's?"

What the hell?

"Uh— Yeah it was good. Amalia slept over," I bit on my lip when I remembered our first kiss. I was hanging out for more of that. "Dad was a dick in front of her this morning. Of course. But it was fine. She came with me and I got this tattoo."

She finally peered up when I pulled down the neck of my t-shirt and revealed the fresh tattoo that was shadowed with a soft red and raised skin.

She tilted her head to the side and a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she read her name on one of the footballs.

It was then I noticed the whites of her eyes were a little more red than usual. It wasn't uncommon for them to become bloodshot after drinking, but there was an overall swell around the top half of her face.

"That's really cool, Luc," she smiled and looked at her phone again. "Tyler did a good job."

"It was Pete," I mumbled distractedly as I readjusted my shirt. "You good, Abs?"

She nodded but wouldn't look at me. The fact that she wouldn't shout at me about Tanner's wheel was concerning on its own.

But there was something off. She seemed too calm. It wasn't that she was always on a warpath to start arguments. She could be pleasant to be around if I wasn't bothering her about her love life.

But this was out of character. I would have bet my life on her throwing down over that wheel.

"Yeah I'm fine," she forced a smile, as if she thought I didn't know her at all. "Just hungover and tired. Ya know?"

She stood up and slipped past me. I felt sort of scared. Perhaps she had reached a new level of rage. Perhaps she was going to slit my throat while I slept.

Or poison my protein shake.

Or bash me in the back of the head with a weight.

But even as I was thinking of all the possible ways she would get her revenge, I could tell she was more hurt than mad.

And that made me suspicious as fuck. She wandered over to her bed and picked up the comforter, throwing it up so it covered the mattress before she slid under its covers.

"I'm super tired, Luc," she mumbled as she pulled the cover over her head. "Can you please shut the door when you leave."

I stood at the edge of the bed and stressed over what to do next.

I wanted to harass her and find out what was wrong. But she seemed so. . . fragile and I didn't want to upset her more than she was.

"Abs," I jostled the lump under the comforter. "What happened? Do I need to kill someone? If that's the case, then I'll need to wait until Max is home."

Nothing.

"Abby, did Tanner hurt you?"

"No," her muffled voice came from under her cover. "I'm just tired. Like I said. Just let me go to sleep alright."

No part of me wanted to let this go. But I didn't want to push her. So all I could do was inhale a deep breath and begin backwards out of the room.

"I'm here to talk. Not to judge. I'll also batista bomb whoever made you upset. If it was a girl, I'll get Amalia to do it."

I was hoping she would laugh. But the lump remained still. I knew Tanner had done something. It had to have been him. Unless it was Lola or Milly.

But she wouldn't sulk over a dispute with them. She'd have a bitch to me about how she was sick of her friend trio and planned to block their group chat.

Of course, five minutes later she would be chewing me out for dissing her girls.

I could never keep up and I could never hope to. Females had a weird fucking way of dealing with their bullshit.

Still, I decided to be sure. I wandered down the corridor while I retrieved my phone and searched Milly's contact.

I winced when her photo popped up on the screen after I pressed call.

It was an up close shot of her cleavage I had taken one night when her boobs were particularly prominent in a tight halter. I figured I should change that as soon as possible.

The phone rang a few times as I walked down the stair case.

"What, Lucas?" She answered as I hit the floor and leaned against the banister. She sounded as exhausted as Abby claimed to be.

"Good afternoon sunshine. Feeling well?"

"Bloody hell. Stop shouting mate."

"Were you sleeping?"

"No, I was down at the pub doing a line dance to Cotton Eye Joe," she drawled with sarcasm. "Yes, I was sleeping. I'm a proper mess after last night. Unless this is important, I'm going to hang up."

"It's about Abby."

I was met with silence. I wondered if she had hung up. But then I heard her swallow and I knew, she knew something.

"Why is she moping around the house?" I narrowed my glare even though she couldn't see it. "Did something happen between you two? Or her and Lola."

"Nothing happened with us. Or Lola," she stated with nonchalance. "She was fine when she left here las— this morning."

I straightened up off the banister and wandered into the living room. "Last night?"

"I said this morning."

"You were going to say last night."

"Lucas, I said this morning.

"Fine," I stood in front of the window beside the sofa and stared out on to the drive where the gardener was up to his knees in shrubs with the hedge clippers. "She sent me a weird text at about nine this morning. Know what that was about?"

"No," she answered. "She was gone by then."

"That's interesting, considering she didn't get home until some time between ten and two. You don't live that far from us."

She groaned with frustration. "What are you, the fuzz? Piss off, Lucas. You're worse than Lola's Mother! I'm going to hang up now."

"Hang on," I sighed. "I'm just worried. I feel like something happened with Tanner. She seems upset."

There was a brief pause and I turned around to find Mom wandering in with her slip on's in hand and her Sunday sweats on. She smiled and I signaled for her to give me a minute.

"Lucas," she sighed with a more gentle tone. "I don't know anything. Trust me, if that shit head hurt her, I would be the first to rip his bollocks off. But I've not heard a thing."

I sighed. "Alright. Thanks anyway I suppose. Continue your afternoon snooze."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to call my best friend."

"Don't tell her I said anything."

"I won't," she promised with a softer voice. "P.s I can smell Mum baking scones. How jealous are you?"

I groaned. "I love Pam's scones."

"Don't talk about my Mum's arse like that."

I burst into a laughter. "You're a dick head," I said with amusement.

I could hear her grin. "Ta ta mate."

We ended the phone call there and I once again winced at the image of her huge tits. I did a quick search through my photo's for something more appropriate while Mom began to talk.

"Honey, do you want to come with me to get Max from the airport?"

"Sure," I answered, still in search of something that wasn't so suggestive. I found a photo of her from last Halloween in a Black Widow costume.

There was still cleavage, but at least it wasn't zoomed in on it. It wasn't my fault if she was hot in a skin tight superhero fit.

Mom and I wandered through the internal access and into the garage. We climbed into her beast of a pick up, which I always teased her about being too small for, and she blipped the garage door open.

Dad's dodge, Max's white Rover and Abby's black Jeep were lined up beside the pick up with one space left for my Rover which I hadn't bothered to put inside yet.

Mom scowled at me when she went to pull out and discovered she'd have to do some careful maneuvering to get around it.

She waved at the gardener as she left the drive and lowered the volume on her radio. "So," she said with a carefree tone. "How was your afternoon? Did the tattoo turn out well?"

"Oh mhmm," I nodded as I pulled the neck down and angled towards her so she could see it.

Her gaze flickered between the road and the tattoo for a solid minute and a half but she eventually sat back in her seat and waved her hand. "It looks good, but I'll have a proper look at home."

"Sweet," I sat back and exhaled a quick breath. "Sorry about this morning by the way. For calling you out in front of Amalia."

She laughed. "It's fine, Luc. I'd forgotten about it. You get used to it after living with Drayton Lahey for as long as I have."

"Yeah. Amalia wasn't too impressed though. Thought I better make amends if I had pissed you off."

"She seems nice," Mom said. "Have you known her long?"

I stared out the windshield. "Na just a week. She's great. Like fucking great. She doesn't put up with bullshit though. I want to change for her. That's never happened before."

"Change for her? Change how?"

"Like— well— TMI Mom, but I have to quit sleeping around."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. "That's kind of essential if you want to get serious with one girl."

"Yeah."

"But I hope she doesn't want to change you," she flicked on her indicator and pulled down the main road that would put us through the middle of town. "You said she got mad about what happened this morning?"

"Mhmm. Said I need to filter shit and not embarrass you guys. I think it's like a culture thing, maybe. I dunno. I get this vibe that parental respect is a way bigger deal to her— she's Spanish. I mean, you know I respect you guys. We're just. . . different."

"Exactly," Mom nodded. "We are different. It's one thing if she asks for you not to embarrass her, but she can't expect you to change how you interact within your own family. Just remember that."

I nodded, supposing she had a good point. One I hadn't thought of. She cleared her throat, supposedly not done with her chat. "You're being safe, right?"

"Mom," I laughed. "We haven't had sex. We're waiting."

"Aww," her grin gave her a double chin. "That's sweet. But still. Is she on the pill? You have condoms right?"

I subtly shook my head with exasperation. I'd been having sex since I was fifteen and so far, so good. "Mom, I swear, when it comes time for that, I've got it covered."

She seemed satisfied enough to let it go. Mom had sort of mastered the balance in parenting. Well, I thought so. Not that my opinion counted for much considering I wasn't a parent.

But she knew how to talk to us. She always made us feel comfortable enough to open up to her and while she didn't hold the reigns super tight, she had raised us not to show greed, to be respectful of others, to love each other.

Family was big under our roof and while Dad seemed to mature super slow, he still knew when to step up and be serious.

I felt like they had done it right. I certainly loved them and knew whatever was going on with me, I could be honest about it.

Mom and I continued to chat while we watched the jet landing on the tarmac. It took a while to stop, but once it's wheels were still, we drove closer so Max didn't have to walk as far.

We could hear the sound of other aircrafts landing at a further distance. This space was for private passengers only so we could come and go with out the paps and fans hounding us and putting themselves in danger.

After a while, the door opened. Mom and I both sat forward in our seats when we noticed Max wasn't alone.

A girl with a larger build was beside him. Her two toned blonde and brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and Max held her hand as they came down the steps.

She was familiar. I was sure I knew her. But she looked different. "Is that — Kyla?"