Chapter 7 What now
Aveline POV
I hurried after Lyla before she could make it to her car.
The last thing I needed was for her to actually hunt Ethan down.
Trust me, she would.
I still remembered the last time someone got on her bad side because of me.
I'd told her about some random guy who had cornered me after class, saying a bunch of disgusting things and trying to put his hands on me. I barely knew the idiot. To me, it was just another creep I wanted to forget.
To Lyla?
It was a declaration of war.
She somehow tracked the guy down before sunset, marched right up to him in broad daylight, and started a fight that had half the street watching. We later found out he was nothing more than some reckless drunk human who couldn't even remember what he'd done.
Did that stop her?
Absolutely not.
She still gave him the beating of his life.
So if Lyla was willing to throw hands with a complete stranger for simply making me uncomfortable...
Moon Goddess help Ethan.
I would've loved to see someone wipe that smug look off his face too, but what would it solve?
Would my father suddenly be released?
Would forty-eight million dollars magically disappear?
Would our lives go back to normal?
No.
Nothing would change.
Except Lyla ending up in trouble.
“Lyla, wait!” I shouted, racing down the stairs after her.
She stopped halfway to the front door and spun around, glaring at me.
“Please don't tell me you're about to ask me to calm down.”
“I—”
“No.” She held up a finger. “Don't. Don't even breathe those words, Aveline.”
She threw both hands into her hair in frustration.
“That bastard doesn't deserve to wake up tomorrow morning.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
She was so dramatic.
“Lyla...”
“No.” She pointed at me again. “I'm serious.”
“He offered to make you his mistress!”
“Yes.”
“He insulted your family!”
“I know.”
“He mocked Uncle Damien while the man is sitting in a damn cell!”
“I know.”
“He called you worthless!”
“I know!”
“And you're telling me to stay home?”
“Yes.”
She stared at me as though I'd completely lost my mind.
“Aveline...”
“What?”
“You're worrying me.”
I frowned.
“You're becoming too mature.”
That pulled a laugh out of me.
“Oh, shut up.”
“No, seriously.” She folded her arms. “The old Aveline would've let me drive.”
“The old Aveline also thought Ethan was the love of her life.”
Her expression softened immediately.
“...Touché.”
We stood there quietly for a moment.
Jay, who'd been pretending not to eavesdrop from the living room, finally looked up from his game.
“Okay...” He glanced between us. “Are one of you planning a murder, or am I just missing several chapters?”
Lyla answered without missing a beat.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
Jay blinked.
“That... somehow doesn't reassure me.”
“It wasn't supposed to.”
He slowly looked at me.
“Aveline?”
I forced a smile.
“Everything's fine.”
He stared another second before sighing.
“I don't believe either of you.”
“Smart boy,” Lyla muttered.
Jay rolled his eyes.
“Whatever. Just don't get arrested. Mom said she's tired of bailing people out.”
“We've never been arrested,” Lyla scoffed.
“Yet.”
She gasped dramatically.
“Wow. Betrayed by my own brother.”
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
I couldn't help laughing.
The heaviness in my chest eased just a little.
Lyla noticed.
Good.
That was probably why she'd started arguing in the first place.
To make me laugh.
She walked back toward me and nudged my shoulder.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I won't go commit aggravated assault.”
“Thank you.”
“But only because you asked.”
“I appreciate it.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I still hate him.”
“I know.”
“I hope his socks are always wet.”
I laughed.
“I hope his coffee tastes burnt every morning.”
I laughed harder.
“I hope every expensive suit he buys shrinks in the wash.”
“Lyla!”
“What? I'm manifesting.”
“You're ridiculous.”
“And proud of it.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we headed back upstairs.
“You know,” she muttered, “I still don't understand how you can forgive people so easily.”
I sighed.
“I'm not forgiving him.”
“No?”
“I'm just... exhausted.”
That made her fall silent.
By the time we reached her bedroom again, the anger on her face had been replaced with concern.
I practically collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“This room is depressing now,” she announced.
I turned my head.
“What?”
“Yeah.”
She looked around dramatically.
“The walls are ugly.”
I blinked.
“They've always been this color.”
“I know.”
“So what's changed?”
“My mood.”
I burst into laughter.
“You're unbelievable.”
“No, seriously.” She flopped beside me. “Let's leave.”
“And go where?”
“Your place.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“My place?”
“Yes.”
She pointed at me.
“You've been crying here.”
“Yes.”
“You've been trauma-dumping here.”
“Yes.”
“You almost let me commit homicide here.”
“I stopped you.”
“Barely.”
She clapped her hands together.
“So we're changing locations.”
I smiled.
“You're insane.”
“I've accepted that already.”
I laughed again.
“Come on,” she continued. “Maybe your mom's home.”
The smile faded slightly.
“I hope she is.”
“Exactly.”
She hopped off the bed.
“And if she isn't... we'll raid your kitchen instead.”
“You're only thinking about food.”
“I always think about food.”
“That explains a lot.”
“It explains my beauty.”
“Oh, please.”
She tossed a pillow at my face.
“Jealous.”
“In your dreams.”
She grinned triumphantly before walking over to her wardrobe.
“Give me five minutes.”
“You're changing clothes?”
“Obviously.”
“You're literally coming to my house.”
“And?”
“You've been there a thousand times.”
“And I'm still not showing up looking homeless.”
I shook my head, laughing.
“You have serious issues.”
“My issues have great fashion sense.”
While she rummaged through her wardrobe, I picked my bag up from the floor and checked that I had everything, my phone, charger, wallet, and the envelope containing the documents about my father's debts.
My fingers lingered on it for a moment.
The weight of reality settled back onto my shoulders.
Lyla noticed immediately.
Without saying anything, she walked over and gently took the envelope from my hands before slipping it into my bag herself.
“We'll figure it out.”
I looked at her.
“I don't know how.”
“You don't have to know today.”
She zipped the bag shut and handed it back to me.
“You're not carrying this alone anymore.”
My throat tightened.
“Thank you.”
She smiled.
“You're stuck with me.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours.”
“How?”
“You became my best friend.”
“I don't remember signing any contract.”
“Oh, honey.” She looped her arm through mine as we headed toward the door. “Friendship is a lifetime contract.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Scary.”
“You love me.”
“I tolerate you.”
“Same thing.”
Laughing despite everything, we headed downstairs together.
Jay looked up as we reached the front door.
“So... you're both leaving?”
“Yes,” Lyla answered.
He pointed toward the kitchen.
“I just ordered pizza.”
She froze.
“So?”
“You're abandoning me.”
“You're seventeen.”
“Exactly.”
“You'll survive.”
He sighed dramatically.
“I can't believe my own sister would leave me like this.”
Lyla walked over, grabbed a slice of bread from the counter, stuffed it into his mouth, and patted his head.
“There.”
He stared at her.
“You're so annoying.”
“I learned from the best.”
Jay pointed at the door.
“Please leave.”
She saluted.
“With pleasure.”
A few minutes later, we climbed into her car, and the engine rumbled to life.
As we pulled away from the house, I rested my head against the window, watching the streets blur past.
For the first time since everything had fallen apart...
I felt like I wasn't facing it completely alone.
“I can sense your thoughts…I don’t know if that’s a right word” Lyla said softly beside me.
