Our dad sets down two platefuls of steaming spaghetti in front of my brother and I, before turning back to the stove to serve himself.

"Mom won't be home until late tonight," he says with a sad sigh. "Her flight back from Toronto isn't until nine-ish."

He pulls out the bar stool across from mine on the island, sitting down to take a sip of his beer.

"I don't see how that's a bad thing," I dare.

Charlie looks up to me with a small side grin before quickly shaking his head to banish the thought of amusement. Dad is smiling too, but not at all in a happy or joyful way.

It's a pitiful sort of look; I know he wishes my mother and I had a far better relationship.

She's just so cruel too me. I'd feel like an idiot to actually do something about it, as she's not abusive or anything, but that doesn't stop it from hurting.

I slowly twirl a couple strands of noodles around my fork, not bothering to even eat them until my dad clinks his glass down on the counter top with a huff.

"I know you have your differences but she's still your mother."

This is the argument we have every single time our mother is out of town. I don't expect Dad to understand at all, but it'd be really helpful if he would just accept the fact that our relationship is never going to be the picture-perfect mother-daughter relationship.

"Please, Dad?" I ask. "Just don't get your hopes up. It's been almost three years and she still won't give me a break."

Back to The Incident. The most petrifying days of my life.

When all I needed was someone to talk to, she was never there for me. She dealt all the blame to me and there was no worse feeling than having your own mother seem to turn against you.

He nods as if to say that he gets it, but I know he doesn't. Charlie gets up from his seat to scoop himself some more spaghetti off the stove, and as soon as he's out of earshot, my dad leans slightly across the table towards me.

"You just need to realize that it was really hard for her."

My grip on the fork in my hand slacks and the utensil slips out of my grasp, clattering against the counter.

Hard for her? It didn't happen to her. It wasn't her who nearly got—

A warm hand is suddenly resting on top of my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Don't. Ignore it."

Charlie's whisper is barely audible, painfully silent and I look up to give him a thankful smile. Not going to lie here; I was about to lash out hard.

Our dad leans back in his seat with a slightly stricken expression but he doesn't utter another word the whole meal until we all finish eating our pasta and I carry all the plates towards the sink, seeing as it's my night to do the dishes.

"Did you hear that Bryce is back in town?" Charlie asks, calling out from the living room to the kitchen, where Dad and I are still standing.

Our dad looks up from the island he's wiping down and nods. "Yeah, I was on the phone with Leo the other day."

Leo Bradshaw. Bryce's father, obviously. I guess he's also the reason their family picked everything up and moved based on what Bryce told me today. Apparently he's always been extremely successful as he was listed somewhere in the Top CEOs in Canada list many times when they still lived in the country. They're obviously pretty wealthy too, with their huge mansion on the water.

"By the way, how's that kid holding up? He's been through a lot," Dad continues.

I guess we're back to the whole 'Let's treat Lexi like an actual child who apparently can't understand anything in this world!' thing.

"He's good. Doesn't really want to talk about anything though so let's just not pry," Charlie responds easily just as I drop the last fork into the dishwasher.

I walk over to dry my hands off on the towel hanging from the oven handle, grabbing my phone and heading for the main hallway.

"You're not going to watch basketball with us?" Dad says, his tone laced with fake hurt, and I laugh.

"Conveniently my least favourite sport! I have to work on one of the songs I'm performing for college auditions though, before my next voice lesson."

He gives me a soft smile, heading for the living room as I make my way upstairs to my bedroom. I know going to sleep right now is extremely unreasonable as it's still far too early, but I'm totally drained right about now.

I open up my computer to play the piano scales I have saved to warm up my voice to, then moving on to rehearse this darn song a couple times. I soon get irritated that I can't nail the opening cadenza consistently, so I shut my computer down to flop down onto my bed, curling up under the covers and completely hiding from the outside world.

I reach for my phone to scroll through my Instagram feed, but upon seeing a photo Jasmine posted of me, her, and Ryan that we took last weekend, something seems to click in me to go open my text messages instead.

Hitting the 'New Message' button in the top right corner of my screen, I type in the letters 'B-R-Y' and Bryce's name is the last one still showing up on the Contacts list. I click on his name, being sent to a text page.

I exit out of the page to go back on to social media, but I'm abruptly stopped when I get a notification at the top of my screen from Bryce.

I grin with a slight giggle. He never gives up.

I peer at the time up at the top of my phone's screen. It only reads 8:03, far too early to go to sleep. I quickly decide upon going downstairs to sit with Charlie and Dad, until another text comes through to my phone.

I roll my eyes.

I can practically hear the ring of his contagious laughter all the way from here. I guess he just has one of those laughs that really seems to brighten an atmosphere.

Always such a charmer.

I climb out of the cover fort I had cocooned myself in to head down the stairway and into the living room.

"Hey Lex," Charlie says as I sit down beside him on the sofa, grabbing a handful of chips from the bag he's holding.

It isn't until I look back up that I notice my dad has an arm wrapped around someone's shoulders.

Glancing back down at my screen, I see the three moving dots signalling that Bryce is typing. I quickly cut him off with a brief and speedy message.

A familiar pair of daring emerald eyes are studying me intently, judging my every move like a hawk as I turn off my phone with the click of a button, setting it down on the table beside me.

Despite the fact that she's my mother, we truly look nothing alike.

To be honest, people always tell me that I don't really look much like either of my parents, but I'm closer to my dad than my mother. I have his light caramel hair and most of my facial features are just a much more feminine version of his.

Meanwhile, I can't look at my brother without seeing our mother. We both have our dad's hazel eyes, but Charlie has our mother's deep auburn hair and warm toned complexion.

They're very much alike personality-wise as well, except I'm instantly reminded that he thinks much harder before he speaks based on what comes out of her mouth.

"Hi, Ale— sorry, Lexi."

Her voice is soft and quiet, and she's wearing that awful half-smile that makes me want to vomit.

It's all for show. I'm well aware that Charlie sees through her act too, but Dad is too lovesick to do so. He'd never think less than par of the wonderful Kathleen Brooks, his perfect wife.

I guarantee I'll never find someone I love enough to defend at all costs. If someone's in the wrong, they're wrong, no matter how highly you think of them.

I stare her down silently with no intention of saying a word until Charlie literally jams his elbow into my side. I hit his arm hard and he grabs my wrist, pinning it down to the couch.

"Ow!" I yelp as he rolls his eyes.

"Grow up," he teases, and I feel the underlying urge to twist his arm around and try to snap it or something but he reads my mind and shakes his head tauntingly. "I'm your ride to school, Lex. Think that through."

"Yeah, well that's all you're good for!" I fight back. "I mean, seriously. You're the older sibling who's supposed to know more yet you can't even help me with homework ever!"

"I'm older by ten months. And I think we both know that you've always been way smarter than me. Let's be real, my IQ is probably sixty-five," my brother pouts.

Charlie leans back into the sofa's cushioned back, and we're both silent for just a moment before we simultaneously burst out laughing. Honestly, despite all the deprecating jokes I make about Charlie, I guess he really is a great brother.

Our laughter comes to a stop as soon as Dad clears his throat from the other couch. Our mother is typing something on her phone, diverting her attention completely away from everyone else in the room. I must've picked that habit up from her, meanwhile Dad is always very present in the room.

"Is something wrong?" Charlie asks our dad, and he quickly shakes his head. The room's atmosphere grows slightly awkward until Mother looks up from what she's doing, scanning between the three of us.

"I thought you weren't coming home until later," I interrupt, and her gaze falls on me. Her eyes crinkle into a bittersweet smile and she reaches for my father's hand, taking it in her own.

"I caught an earlier flight," she explains.

Yes, that was implied.

"You've heard that Bryce is back?" she then assumes, and luckily Charlie answers this time.

"Yep. We saw him at school today." His tone is cool and casual, a contrast to the tone our mother then takes on.

"That kid's been through a lot. Don't expect too much from him, or for him to be the exact same as he was before they moved."

I can't deal with all this unknown anymore. I really don't like for things to be left up for interpretation.

Then bidding everyone goodnight, I disappear upstairs and into my bedroom.

I curl back up in my bed, plugging my earbuds into my phone and opening up my music. I scroll through a variety of playlists being recommended to me, until I decide to just listen to a musical.

When I exit off of the music app, I'm drawn to the messages app where I text Bryce again.

An answer doesn't come through right away, so I lay back for a moment, staring up at the plain white ceiling in a moment of quiet. The sun has long set, and I had switched my overhead light off before I situated myself into this state of comfort, so the only light in the room is coming from the lamp on the table beside my bed. Because the way the light is shining, you can clearly see the shadow of the water bottle that I always keep filled projected onto my ceiling.

Until just like that, something shifts in the shadow. And I see a huge. Freaking. Fly.

I leap out of the blankets, scooting far away to the edge of the bed and just watching, because there is a massive bug just chilling on top of my water bottle. It flies down to one of the books perched atop the table, twitching and walking around as I just stare at it in horror.

There's nothing in this world I hate more than bugs. For some strange reason, I find them completely unsettling. I don't know what exactly it is, but there's just something about their tiny little bodies that I cannot stand.

Deciding that I should probably murder the damn thing if I want it to leave me alone, I reach for a pillow, raising it above my head and . . .

WHACK!

It flew away before I could get it.

I jump off of the bed, watching the bug fly across the room before landing on a wall. I swing at it with the pillow again and . . .

WHACK!

I swear to God, this is going to be the death of me. We basically have an infestation.

Just like that, the door to my bedroom swings open and Charlie bursts into the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hollers, until he gets a glimpse of me standing there like a mad woman gripping a pillow in both my hands.

"Oh. I forgot you're crazy about those things. It's October, shouldn't they all be dead by n—"

WHACK!

The horrifying body finally falls to the ground in death and defeat, and I crush it with the pillow once again to make sure that it's actually a goner. When I get confirmation that it is, I drop the pillow back onto my bed.

"Anyways, goodnight!" Charlie says, exiting my room and closing the door gently behind him.

A little ding signals from my phone followed by the thud of the door slamming shut. I end up climbing back into it for the trillionth time tonight, seeing a message from Bryce.

So it is family problems that he's going through. He didn't really mention his parents much all day, so I guess that doesn't come to a surprise, but it's still a little odd, everything considered; him and his family always seemed so perfect. Rich, attractive, and intelligent. I believe his parents have been together for ages, too.

I have no clue how people manage to have a serious relationship during their teenage years though. Most of the kids at my school are far too immature for any commitment as is, not to mention that they also have to worry about grades, college, and their social lives on top of everything.

This kid needs holy water.

My screen flashes bright with an incoming call message, and I quickly hit the green 'Accept' button.

Holding the phone up to my ear, I sigh, saying a quick, "Hi."

"Hey Blossom. Missing me already?" his peppy voice says through the microphone. I laugh quietly to myself at his cockiness.

"If I recall correctly, you were the one who just called me."

Now it's his turn to laugh, and even when he quiets down I still can picture his smile. He's obviously changed a lot since the last time I saw him, but I guarantee his eyes and that smile never will.

"You win. And believe me, this is the only time you'll ever catch me admitting that; I'm always right."

I lean my head to the side so that my phone stays by my shoulder while I use both hands to pull all my hair back, sectioning it into three strands and braiding them together.

"Why'd you call?" I ask, tying off the ends of my hair with a hair tie.

"I prefer calling over texting. Just seems more legit." He huffs and I hear the sound of something slamming shut, presumably a laptop, followed by the floor creaking slightly with the pressure of footsteps.

There's a gentle thud and Bryce let's out a sigh of exasperation. "I love this bed. I kind of hate sleeping though. I feel like I'd be so much more productive if I didn't sleep. Like the vampires in Twilight."

I'm sure he must've heard me snort from the other line. "You've seen Twilight?"

"Of course I have. Are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?" he asks.

"Jacob, obviously. The amount of times that Bella woke up to Edward stalking her in her sleep is extremely off-putting. What about you?"

"Jacob of course. Edward really is a creep. He bribed Bella into so many things she didn't really feel comfortable with just because he could give her something she wanted. Doesn't seem totally fair if you know what I mean."

For some reason, there's something odd yet soothing about talking to Bryce on the topic of teen romance novels.

Until the sound of screaming is very present in the background of Bryce's line.

"Hold on for a second," Bryce says quickly, concern and fear clear in his rushed tone.