Chapter Three

 HAILEY'S POV

“How are you so lucky?” Carter whined over the phone.

Carter was a 5-foot-3 blonde who’d been my best friend since we were five.

How we became friends was a long story, but to sum it up: he was being bullied for looking too ‘girly,’ and I may—or may not—have punched the bully right in the nose. After that, we were inseparable.

“How is this me being lucky?” I huffed, flopping onto my bed on my stomach. The phone bounced in my hand as I turned to stare at the ceiling.

“You’re getting a brother!” Carter yelled, and I winced—not because he was loud, but because of the word “brother”.

"One, I already have a brother. Two, he technically won't be considered my

brother but a foster kid or something, and three I don't know anything about

him....or his deceased mother." I sighed turning back around on my stomach.

"Well at least you have a sibling! Im alone." He complained. I rolled my eyes.

"Trust me, it's better that way. Safe from getting ketchup in your hair just for

the fun of it." I cringed remembering how my hair smelled of ketchup for an

Carter laughs. "True,"

After a few talks about the beginning of senior year, Carter goes back to talking about the mysterious 'Carmelo'.

He hums. "You mentioned that his mom was your mom's best friend right?"

I nodded instinctively before realizing he couldn’t see me. “Yeah. Apparently, they hadn’t spoken in over seventeen years. It’s kind of strange that she gave my mom full guardianship of her son when they haven’t even seen each other in that long.”

Carter hummed thoughtfully. “How’s your mom taking the news? I mean, that’s gotta be a huge shock—finding out you’re someone’s guardian out of nowhere.”

I snorted, stretching out my limbs across the bed. “Trust me, it’s a shock for all of us. But she’s taking it hard, even though she’s trying to pretend she’s fine. It’s obvious she still cherished the time she had with Genevieve... and now she’s probably beating herself up for not reaching out sooner. I guess... accepting Carmelo is her way of trying to make peace with the past,” I whispered.

I hated seeing Mom like this—so lost and broken. I wished there was something I could do to bring even a little light back into her.

"Well, look on the bright side… you’re still getting a brother." Carter chuckled.

If I could punch him through the phone, I would. Sadly, virtual violence isn’t a thing yet.

“Goodnight, Carter,” I sighed, already mentally closing the conversation.

“Night!” he laughed, completely unbothered, before I hung up.

I lay there in silence, my mind still swirling with thoughts of this mysterious *Carmelo*. We didn’t even know what he looked like. No recent photos, no idea of his personality, nothing. Just a name, a letter, and the fact that he was about to become a part of our family.

Living with a complete stranger? That had all kinds of fear-of-the-unknown vibes. I mean… what if he was a psycho? A serial killer disguised as a teenager? Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but still—this wasn’t normal.

The Next Day

“Take care of your brother, Hailey. I don’t want Jayson calling us and begging to call the cops on you again,” Mom said as she grabbed her purse by the door.

I snapped my eyes to the tiny traitor. My seven-year-old brother shrank under my glare.

“You ungrateful little brat—”

“Hailey.” Dad’s tone was a clear warning.

I bit my tongue and redirected my death-stare to the floor.

I sighed and folded my arms under my chest. “I promise not to burn the house down and forget Jayson inside. Happy?”

Mom shot me a look so sharp I could feel it in my bones. “We’re serious, Hailey.”

I shrugged, deadpan. “Me too.”

“Hailey,” Dad warned again, that tone creeping in—the one that made even Jayson stand up straight.

I groaned dramatically. “Okay, okay! I was joking. I’ll take care of that little toad.”

Jayson stuck out his tongue at me from behind Mom. I returned the gesture with a smirk and a mental reminder to “accidentally” hide the TV remote later.

Dad muttered something under his breath about crazy kids and shook his head.

Then Mom’s voice broke through, softer this time, more fragile. “Please stay safe.”

I glanced back at her and my breath caught. Her eyes were glossy, full of emotion she was clearly trying to hold back.

“Baby,” Dad murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. 

"Maybe we shouldn't go Hudson. I can't leave my babies all alone." She sobs

turning around to bury her face in dad's shirt. I was sure she'd leave a patch

of her tears on his blue shirt and I was certain he'd not care.

Wait, who was she calling a baby? I am seventeen!

"It's okay baby, they'll be okay." He soothes and runs his fingers through her

hair.

Mom and dad have never been away from us for more than a day. This would be their longest trip away from us and even though I knew Jayson and I would be okay, a girl still needs her mom. To cook dinner of course.

"Mom we'll be fine and if anything you're one phone call away. I know Dad, the taser is under my bed where you left it." I said.

Dad gives me a serious look. "Remember—if it's a guy, aim the taser right at the crotch."

I grinned. "That was exactly my plan! See? Nothing to worry about. I can protect both Jayson and me."

"You two are so alike, it's embarrassing," Mom mumbles, her face still buried in Dad’s chest.

Out of nowhere, Jayson runs up and wraps his skinny little arms around their legs like he’s auditioning for a sad movie. I rolled my eyes. What a suck-up.

"Please don't leave me with her. Anyone but her, Mommy," he whined.

He was acting like I’m the villain when he’s the one who’s always being a little brat.

I shot him a glare and fought the urge to launch him into orbit. "Hey, I’m the one who cheers the loudest for you at your soccer games!" I snapped.

Jayson suddenly stops crying and steps away from Mom and Dad. "Oh, she's right," he says with a cheeky grin, then strolls back over to stand beside me.

Dad opens his mouth to say something, but the taxi driver blares the horn, clearly running out of patience.

Mom finally pulls away from Dad, and I cringe at the big, wet patch her tears left on his blue shirt. He doesn’t seem to care, though. He just smiles at her with that soft, patient look as she mumbles an apology and awkwardly tries to ‘dry’ the spot with her hand.

“It’s fine, baby. It'll dry,” he says gently, pulling her close again to kiss her forehead.

Then he steps back and opens his arms. Jayson and I run straight into them, and soon we’re all caught in a big, warm hug from both Mom and Dad. “I’ll miss you, my babies,” he says softly.

Mom sniffles and plants a kiss on both our cheeks.

"Mom, it’s only two days. We’ll be fine,” I whispered, trying to reassure her as Dad ruffles my hair.

“I’m allowed to worry about you two,” Mom says with a sigh, finally letting go. I honestly thought she might squeeze the life out of us with how tight she was holding on.

The taxi horn blares again. Mom’s expression shifts from sad to annoyed in a flash. She spins around and shouts, “Just give us a fu—moment with our kids!”

She turns back to us with a huff, then gives us a sad smile. “I’ll miss you two so much.”

“It’s only for two days, Mom,” I reminded her—for the second time.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s still too long to be away from our babies.”

I groaned. “Mom, I’m not a baby anymore.”

Dad chuckled and pulled me close, kissing my forehead. “You’ll always be our baby girl, no matter how old you get, Hailey.”

After letting go of me, Dad crouches down in front of Jayson and ruffles his hair—the same messy hair he passed down to him. “You’re the man of the house for the next two days, squirt.”

Once we finished our goodbyes, Jayson and I stood in the doorway, watching Mom and Dad climb into the taxi. Moments later, it rolled down the road and vanished from view.

“It’s just us now, Jayson,” I murmured, staring out at the empty street.

“Mac and cheese for dinner?” he asked hopefully.

I looked down at him, narrowing my eyes at his big, hopeful stare. He had some nerve, acting like I was the villain just minutes ago and now trying to charm his way into getting what he wanted.

“Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

His cheerful face twisted with outrage, and before I could react—bam!—pain shot through my foot. The little twit had stomped on it. “Then no mercy!” he declared.

“Okay, okay—mac and cheese for dinner,” I gave in, silently wishing Mom and Dad would come back and rescue me from this tiny menace.