trot downstairs to find the house alive with an assortment of unappreciated scents. An entire bouquet of vomit-like odors assaults my senses.
“What’s going on?” I ask, peering over Mom’s shoulder at a bubbling brew in what, honest to God, could double as a witch’s cauldron. Witchcraft, poison cuisine, her insatiable lust for Demetri the Celestra hunter—all clear evidence that my mother ditched her sanity once my father died. Her union with Tad should have tipped me off that permanent placement in a psychiatric facility is completely necessary.
“Steel cut oats and spinach—Swiss Chard. I’m trying to make enough for the whole family.” She makes a face. “You know,” she whispers, looking past my shoulder briefly, “I have to say, I’m not appreciating the way Brielle and her mother are keeping the baby from us.”
“They are?” I’ve been lost in the bubble of betrayal and haven’t really noticed. It seems like Drake is gone all the time, so I assume he’s next door pulling daddy duty.
“Every time I go over, they say the baby’s napping and that I shouldn’t interrupt.” A clear look of hurt clouds her features. It seems lately her diaper dreams are being dashed from every angle.
Maybe it’s a good thing that she doesn’t spend that much time with baby Beau. It might inspire her to kick Operation Procreate back into high gear and get her mind off demented Demetri. Although, who knows what sexual shenanigans will ensue—and with who.
“I’m sure they’ll bring the baby tonight,” I say, trying to offer her a pick me up. Half the town is coming, including the Oliver of my discontent.
“You’re right.” She pulls me in and inhales deeply. And so will Demetri . She squeals with a smile.
There it is. Proof positive she’s totally ready to dive into some serious philandering with my least favorite Fem.
Mia and Melissa bound into the kitchen and groan at the savorless offerings.
“All you ever cook is crap,” Melissa quips.
“Melissa!” Mom snaps.
“The child speaks the truth, Lizbeth.” Tad appears and plucks a bright green banana from the counter and attempts to peel it, but it’s sealed itself successfully from being digested by humans and Tad alike.
“Excuse me?” Mom’s eyes enlarge with a tempered rage. “This whole family is embracing a new healthy lifestyle, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t let our daughter speak to me in such an outright rude manner.”
“I’m not embracing anything that smells like crap.” Mia is quick to join the dissension in the ranks.
“The barf mobile called.” Melissa cackles. “It wants its puke back.”
“You’re such a dumbass,” Mia hisses into her.
“Shut up. You’re the dumbass,” Melissa snipes back.
“Girls!” Tad claps his hands. “Get dressed and clean up around here. Your mother invited an infantry to suckle off her feast.”
Tad has an annoying way of making everything sound disgustingly inappropriate. Mostly sane people are coming, so that crosses suckling off the list, and my mother is preparing the meal, so for sure there will be no feast.
Ethan wanders in with his hair sticking up in the back and yanks open the fridge without the proper Landon morning greeting, which consists of a bodily function salute—an offense they don’t mind dispensing all day long. Chloe saunters in after him in a barely-there silk nighty that dips just below her bottom.
Speaking of the offense.
“Morning, everyone.” Chloe bursts with uncalled for energy as she stretches to the ceiling, leaving her bottom exposed just long enough for it to sear itself in my nightmares. She stops short at the sight of me and scuttles on over. “Are you still breathing on the planet?” she whispers. “Aren’t you the lucky little captive running around Paragon like you might live to see another day?”
“Gage rescued me.” I hold out my ring. The sad blue stone may as well be filled with tears. Of course I’ll be