Page 101 of Harbor

This wasn’t okay.

It was never going to be okay.

Ever.

• • •

Lucia found it was easier to focus on the television, and the drama unfolding on the reality show than it was the person who darkened the entryway to the living room of her parents’ home. She’d heard him come in, talk to their mom, and even … slyly ask about her like it was going to make a difference to whether or not she wanted to talk to him.

It didn’t make a difference.

She still didn’t want to talk to him.

Her brother also didn’t seem like he was going to give her a choice. What great fun this Christmas break was turning out to be, honestly. If her family would just get the hint and leave her to be on her own, then Lucia might find the moments she had to spend with them to be easier to swallow.

Instead, they kept trying to force their presence on her.

Like now.

“So hey, do you want to talk to me today, or what?” John asked, leaning in the entryway a little more.

Lucia didn’t even look away from the show on the television. She wasn’t at all interested in this garbage—it did nothing to fulfill her mind, but it was better than talking to her brother. She was still angry at John. Part of her didn’t want to be, but if she let go of the anger burning in her chest and the contempt that felt like it was constantly holding her hand, then what else would she have left?

Nothing but herself.

And emptiness.

God knew she would rather be fire-red and ready to fight than sad, quiet, and alone. Lucia didn’t expect them to understand, really.

“No,” she said flatly.

She didn’t miss the way John flinched at her dry tone.

“I tried to call you while you were in California.” John cleared his throat. “Every couple of weeks.”

Yeah, and she ignored every one of those calls, too.

That should have told him something.

Clearly, it didn’t. Or he was just stubborn enough like her father that he was willing to keep trying even if that only made her anger with him ten times worse.

“Maybe my phone doesn’t work there,” she said, keeping that flat tone all the while.

“I think it does, Lucia.”

“Then maybe that’s a sign, John.”

John sucked in air through his teeth, and quieted for a moment. She stupidly hoped that meant he was going to drop this whole attempt at shitty conversation with her, and go on his way. Maybe when she was feeling up to engaging him on another day, they could try again.

Today was not that fucking day.

Tomorrow didn’t look great, either.

“You’ve been back from California for a couple of weeks, kiddo,” John said. “I thought—”

She turned on him, then, her gaze burning with the intensity of the sudden rush of anger that flooded her veins like nothing else. She had never been one to have an anger problem, but it sure seemed like she did now. A single word could send her spiraling, really. Like right now.

“Don’t ever fucking call me that again, John,” Lucia hissed.