Zoey XXVII (Patreon)

NOTE: It's my birthday, so here's your present!

This is the last chapter, but I didn't get a chance to do the final readthrough I usually do before posting, so if something is off, please let me know! (I mean, always do that, but maybe especially on this one?)

I have a few more shorts to do, and then this book will be done. I'll do edits, and hopefully get this book published in August, or early September at the latest.

But what should the title be? Any ideas? I'm stumped. Help!!!

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Aunt Danika returned Friday morning. She and Brad knocked on the front door, instead of just coming in, and Nana went out to chat with them on the porch. The only reason Zoey managed not to give in to the temptation to pull up the doorbell cam and listen in was that Ajax was sitting beside her at the breakfast table, seemingly frozen in place.

When he just stared at the front door like it was a snake, and he wasn’t sure if he was a mongoose or a mouse, Zoey waved her hand in front of her face. “Hey! Aren’t you going to go say hi?”

Ajax turned wide eyes on her and whispered, “I can’t.”

She frowned. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t tell her-” he shook his head, and she understood. That he hated Brad. That he hated who his mom was when she was with Brad. That he hated who he was when he hated her. Maybe even that he blamed himself for his father leaving. There was a lot to not be able to say.

She got up, walked around the table, and leaned past him, picking up his empty plate. As she straightened, she bumped his shoulder with hers. “‘I have learned over the years that when one’s mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear,’” she quoted.

He stared at her, and she shrugged wryly as she put their plates in the sink. “Rosa Parks. Dad loves quotations.”

Ajax actually laughed a little as he pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “I’m not sure I believe that, but you’re right. I know what I have to do. Just… not yet. I’ll talk to her when we get home.”

Zoey nodded. “That makes sense. Just… don’t be a stranger, okay? I was just getting used to having you around.”

He grinned. “Sure. I still haven’t gone into the caves around the tunnel. Someone posted on the forums that they heard there was a path to the Dark Elf cities down there.”

Zoey felt her heart speed up. She already had a quest for the Wood Elf half of her heritage. Maybe there was one for the Dark Elves, too? “If you decide to go investigate, count me in,” she said.

The front door clicked, and the cousins exchanged one last glance before they walked out into the hall. Aunt Danika stood there, alone, and the look on her face said she wasn’t sure if she should be happy to see her son or not.

Ajax’s fists clenched at his sides, but he said, “Hi, Mom,” and Aunt Danika said, “Hi, Ajax. Did you have a good time?” like she was prodding at an explosive device.

Ajax’s hands loosened and he said, “Yeah. I’m ready to go home, though.”

The tension pulling Aunt Danika’s shoulders in toward her ears slackened, and her brows drew together as she said, “O… kay. Are you packed?”

He nodded toward the backpack leaning against the wall by the door. “Yep.”

This was so painful. Zoey stepped in and gave her aunt a big hug, then turned to her cousin. “I really appreciate your help. Especially that thing with the [Tempest]. We never would have made it without you.” Which was true, and also showed Aunt Danika that Ajax really hadn’t just been an annoying punk all week.

To Zoey’s absolute shock, Ajax reached out and put an arm around her shoulders, giving her the briefest of all possible hugs. “Thanks, fam,” he said, “I’ll let you know when we get home.”

Aunt Danika stared at Zoey like she’d just grown an extra set of arms, and Zoey shrugged. Ajax smirked as he picked up his backpack. Head held high, he exited through the door, completely ignoring Brad, who was still standing on the porch with Nana, and climbed into the back of the rental car.

“What…?” Aunt Danika said, and Zoey shrugged again, offering her a bright smile.

“Have a great flight back, Aunt Danika!” she said, and as soon as the baffled woman exited the house, Zoey closed the door behind her with a firm click. Of course, the effect was kind of ruined when Nana opened it again a hot second later, but they just looked at each other, and, in unspoken mutual agreement, returned to the kitchen to put away the leftovers.

❦ ❦ ❦

Bree and Zoey’s dad got home just as it began growing dark. Zoey and Nana gave them both big hugs, asked about their trip, and souvenirs were duly handed out. Nana got a new thimble to add to her collection. She didn’t actually sew, but she said she might as well give people something specific to get for her, or else they always brought her random things like shot glasses and snowglobes.

Zoey got a snowglobe.

When all the right noises were made, Nana commented on how tired Bree looked, grabbed her bags, and left. Everyone stood in the driveway and waved, and then it was just Bree and Zoey, and Zoey’s dad. And Max, who was Very Glad his people were home.

Zoey looked at her dad. He looked back, and the cheerful, contented look that he’d been wearing faded into one that involved the corners of his mouth going down, and his eyebrows coming together. Bree looked from one to the other of them, and her hand went to her lower back.

“Let’s go back inside,” Bree said. “We have some things to talk about.” She gave her new husband a Look, and he sighed.

Zoey was a little miffed, honestly, because she’d been about to say the same thing, but she just nodded and followed along, her fingers in Max’s soft, warm ruff as they all walked up the front steps. The dog abandoned her as soon as Marcus sat down in his big chair, and Max flopped down on his owner’s feet, letting out a groan of satisfaction. They all laughed, and some of the tension eased from the room.

Bree reached over and touched Marcus’ hand, and Zoey’s dad sighed. He looked at Zoey.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his big, deep voice was full of truth.

Zoey started to cry, and once she started, the words came out, too, falling all over each other in a tumbled mess. Anger at having to move. Anger that nobody had even asked her if she wanted to move. Jealousy for the baby and Bree. Fear that she was losing the person who meant the most to her in the world. Guilt that she felt all of these things. And love.

She said that over and over. She loved her dad, she loved the baby, she loved Bree, she was so glad they were all going to be a family. Which just made her feel even guiltier, because how could she be so petty as to feel all the other things? But the guilt and the love didn’t make the bad feelings go away, which only made her feel guiltier, and she didn’t know what to do.

And her dad just kept sinking down into his seat, casting glances at Bree. She lifted an eyebrow at him, just like Aspen did, and he finally just opened his arms, like Matt kneeling in the dirt, hoping his little girl would forgive him and love him anyway.

Zoey practically fell out of her chair, and climbed into his arms, all five feet one inches and sixteen years of her, and he held her until she was able to stop crying.

“I’m sorry,” her dad said again, and the rumble of his voice was like a heartbeat.

She sniffled and swiped at her eyes, accepting the tissue that Bree pulled from somewhere, because Bree always seemed to be prepared. “What are you sorry for?” Zoey asked, and in response, her dad reached over and picked up the stupid snowglobe. He shook it, and handed it to her.

She looked from it, to him, and blinked. Zoey had liked snowglobes when she was eight or ten, but she certainly didn’t collect them.

“It was late,” Bree said, gently, and Marcus nodded.

“We ordered it months ago, but there was that earthquake in Japan, and some of the parts were on backorder, and then there was a shipping strike, and then it got held up in customs and… I just should have told you.”

He shook his head. “No, I probably should have just included you in the talks all along. I wanted to make it special, and I didn’t involve you when I should have. I treated you like a kid who would just go along with everything because I said it would be okay.”

Zoey stood up, holding the snowglobe. She lifted it, staring through the settling particulates at the little house inside. It was familiar. Well, parts of it were familiar. The steps, the porch, half of the front, one side.

It was their house. Their old, familiar house, but more. There was practically another house tacked onto the left side of it. She flopped down in her chair and looked at him.

Bree unrolled her screen, tapped it, and passed it over to Zoey. “Do you remember when the house next door went up for sale?”

Zoey nodded. The house had been a rental, and the last tenants hadn’t taken good care of it. When they moved out, the owners had decided that they didn’t want to fix it up and rent it out again, so they sold it. There had never even been a sign in the front yard, because someone bought it as soon as it went up on the realtor’s website.

“I bought it,” Bree told her, smiling as she looked sidelong at her husband. “I hadn’t decided what I wanted to do yet, but I chatted with the owners one day while they were cleaning it out, and… it felt right.”

Zoey pointed toward the neighboring lot. “You’re our neighbor?”

Her dad laughed. “That’s what I said, too. Then, when we found out about John Alfred-”

“James Brian,” Bree said, and Marcus puffed a beleaguered sigh.

“When we found out about the baby, she told me about it, and it just made sense to,” he looked around, “expand the house.”

“So, we don’t have to move?” Zoey yelped.

“Oh, we’ll have to move, for a while at least,” her dad said. “The architect and the building contractor agree on that, just not on how long. It could be anywhere from four to six months, though.”

Zoey looked at the little house, nestled inside the snowglobe. “And you didn’t tell me? Didn’t let me help design it?” She glared at them, but her heart wasn’t in it.

Bree’s brow arched, and she glanced at her husband, lips quirking. “Don’t look at me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise!” Marcus said. “Look, there’s a tower!” He pointed to where there was, indeed, a tower protruding from the northwest corner of the roof. “A hidden passage, two secret doors, and a library.”

That… was awesome.

“And,” Bree added, “while the general design of the house had to be finalized in order to make the model, we can still do a lot with the furniture and fixtures.”

A dawning sense of realization came over Zoey. She shook the snowglobe. “This is why you guys went silent every time I walked into the room! Why you’d give each other those little looks when you mentioned moving! Do you know how that made me feel?”

Her dad grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he said, again. “I thought it would be more fun this way.”

Zoey crossed her arms, but she couldn’t help the smile she could feel taking over her face. “Next time, tell me.”

He nodded, but said, “Zoe, I love you. I will always love you, but some things are going to change. Not just the house, but in a year or two or five-” She snorted. He was always trying to convince her to enroll at the university where he taught, and stay home until she had her undergraduate degree.

“-you’re going to leave,” he finished. He reached out and took Bree’s hand, then Zoey’s. “We’re a team. A family. Always. But some of the decisions Bree and I will make, and some of the ones you’re going to make, will have to be about just us, or just you. We’re never going to just leave you out again,” and she could hear the promise in his voice, “but that’s the truth.”

She nodded, and her sore eyes stung as new tears rose up.

“I know,” she whispered. “That’s the scariest part.”

He and Bree nodded, and Bree laid a so-gentle hand on the swell of her belly.

“Are we okay?” her dad asked.

Slowly, Zoey nodded, fingers tight around the snowglobe. Change was hard. It was scary, and it could hurt, or it could be amazing, but it was always hard. Still, she thought she was ready for it, now that she knew they were all in it together.

“We’re good,” she said, and relief flooded their faces.

“Now,” her dad said, “we got a ping letting us know you and Bridget got your boxes open. So, what do you think?” He pointed at Bree’s baby bump. “John Alfred Williams, or James Brian Williams?”

Zoey shook her head. “Neither. He should be Prince T’Challa.”

Her dad opened his mouth, then closed it, looking intrigued.

Bree dropped her face in her hands and began to laugh.