Main Bonus #61: Kinney's Secret Is Revealed (Patreon)

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“YOU WANT A GIRL NEXT?” Farrow asks me like it’s not a record-scratch in tonight’s scheduled programming. Which happens to be Dune on the mounted TV in our bedroom.

I pause the movie for the gazillionth time. “What?”

Farrow only wears grade-A, incomparable, unreplicated amusement. He should be wearing other things. Like confusion. Instead, he’s on the verge of laughing.

I point at him with the remote. “It’s not that funny.”

He eyes the remote. “You trying to shut me off?”

“If I could, I would’ve already done it, man.” I resist the urge to press the off button in his face. I do not need another reason for my husband to call me a dork. “What even made you think of that?” A desert worm was on the screen not even five minutes ago.

“It just came to me,” he says, his smile still annoyingly present. “I haven’t really been watching the movie.”

“I had no clue. I just thought you liked seeing me press the pause button every four seconds.”

He laughs. “It is entertaining as shit.”

I scowl and try to give my brain and face a severe warning. Do not smile back at this guy. This guy who my brain loves way too damn much. Then I tell him, “Dune is one of Luna’s favorite movies, you know.”

“Not saying your sister’s taste is bad. It’s just not my thing. It drags.”

“It drags?”

“It’s slow.”

“I knew what you meant. I’m just processing the fact that you think an action-packed sci-fi movie is boring.” I stare blankly ahead. “Wow. Is this grounds for divorce?”

He chokes on a laugh. “You’d divorce me over hating Dune?”

“Maybe not Dune. There are others.”

Farrow rolls his eyes like I’m full of shit. In this case, yeah I am bullshitting hard and not very well either. It’s not really redirecting the conversation to a new place. It lingers.

The talk of babies.

We already have a son. He’s in his nursery, and the baby monitor is on the end table. Ripley is snoozing in his crib.

“You haven’t been thinking about it?” Farrow wonders. He’s shirtless and leaning against the headboard, like me, but his tattooed forearm is relaxed on his bent knee. Whereas my muscles are flexed, no matter how much I exhale.

He’s just looking at me, waiting.

I’m looking at him, wondering how deep I really want to dive into this subject. “Not a ton. I’ve been thinking more about Janie.”

Her wedding dress fitting was today, and I’d been there while she tried on gowns that her mom designed as options. Jack Highland was also filming for We Are Calloway, so I chatted with him for a bit.

I stare off. “It’s not that I’m afraid to talk about what’s next in our future. I’m not. But the more I think about us having another kid together, raising them, being pretty damn good at it—”

“Really damn good,” he corrects.

I almost smile. “The more I’m going to want that with you soon and now. Not later.”

Affection bleeds through his gaze. “And that’s a bad thing?”

I grimace. “You don’t want to be in my head, trust me.”

He raises his brows. “Now I really do.”

“There are a shit ton of broken train tracks in different directions. Like for one, it feels like a bad thing to want another kid when we just adopted Ripley last month.”

“Okay,” he says, as if it’s not a problem.

I continue, “For another, my best friend is getting married in November. I need to be thinking only of her.”

His brows arch higher. “That’s unreasonable.”

“Best friend code of ethics.”

“Don’t exist, but it’s a little cute you think it does.”

I glare. “She dedicated so much of her time to me and our wedding. I want to give her the same level of…everything.”

He gives me a harder look. “You’re doing enough, and do you really think Jane stopped contemplating her own life when she was planning our wedding?”

I cringe at myself, for even thinking she’d do that. It’s almost insulting to Janie, and I want to do an immediate take-back.

“Exactly,” Farrow says. “So that’s it?”

“Bad timing. Ripley,” I remind him.

“It’ll take some time for another baby to come into our lives. It won’t be an overnight thing like Ripley,” Farrow says.

I fly down another train track. “What if it actually takes a million years to happen?”

“We’ll be dead.”

“I’m fucking serious.”

“It won’t take years.”

“It might not be that easy, Farrow. We have to find a surrogate. Jane still needs to go through egg retrieval surgery, and she might change her mind.”

He combs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, she might, and we’ll figure out alternatives—but when the ball is moving, I’m not letting it stop, and I doubt you will either.” He sounds so assured, but I can’t help but prepare for the ground to fall beneath our feet. Like he can read my fucking mind, he says, “This isn’t you preparing, by the way. It’s you worrying about an outcome that hasn’t happened yet and might never happen.”

I blink slowly. “Thank you for that by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“Really? I thought you were here to annoy me, make me press pause a billion times, and give me mediocre blow jobs.”

His smile is fighting his face. “Mediocre blow jobs?”

“I’m sorry, I meant below average.”

He shakes his head, nearing a laugh. “Must be why you usually come in under a minute.”

“Under a minute? That wasn’t me, so who else have you been blowing?”

He just keeps shaking his head, and then he suddenly tears the remote out of my hand. Fuck. I extend an arm to retrieve it, but Farrow shoves my chest. Before you know it, we’re wrestling on the bed together and grinning, comforter and sheet kicked to the end of the mattress.

“You’re so dead,” I grunt, trying to rip the remote from his hand. Farrow is on top of me, a phrase that would make my teenage-self come in, yes, under a minute.

But I’m older.

I can last hours. Millenniums. All while being underneath Farrow.

He has me pinned to the bed.

“You’d never kill me,” he teases, magnetic heat building between our chests.

“Don’t be so sure.” I try to flip him over, but he’s so goddamn strong. It’s too hard to admit that he could even be stronger than me.

He clutches my face, the remote behind his back with the other hand. And the possessive way his inked hand encases my jaw is rushing blood to my cock.

“Farrow,” I grunt out again.

“You want it, you better try to get it,” he says but I’m thinking less about the remote.

I look at his lips, and then my phone rings. Great. I groan and roll out from under Farrow. Stretching an arm to my end table, I check the name lit on the screen.

Oscar Oliveira.

I tense.

My husband’s best friend.

I ask, “Why would Oscar be calling me and not you?”

Farrow climbs off me and steps onto the floor. “It might be about your family.”

He checks the baby monitor. I check the time. Jesus, it’s late. We probably should’ve gone to sleep like an hour ago. So the better question: Why is Oscar calling now?

Who’s even awake?

Charlie.

I sit up and answer, “Oscar? Is everyone okay?” I watch Farrow motion to the door. Baby monitor in hand, I’m guessing he wants to physically check on our son, and I nod to him.

He disappears for the nursery, and the fact that he’s taking care of this eases some tension in my shoulders.

I’m already thinking of the worst. Car crashes. Fights. Struck by lightning—even though it’s not raining tonight. I don’t keep tabs on Oscar. I don’t know if he’s in New York on my cousin’s detail or if he’s in Philly with Jack. Christ, he could be in Antarctica and Charlie got eaten by a polar bear for all I know. But then again—I don’t think I’d be the first person Oscar would call for that disaster.

“Sorry to call you so late,” is the first thing Oscar says. Not: yeah, everyone’s good.

I stand up, bare feet on the cold floorboards, and I press the phone firmer against my ear. “It’s fine. What’s going on?” I hear the rigidity in my voice.

“Jack fixed that old camcorder. The one that supposedly belonged to security.”

I rest a hand on the back of my neck. “It belongs to my little sister.”

“Figured that out really fast, Hale.”

I glare at the wall. “What’s on it?”

“Her video diary.”

My brows furrow. “Did she say something bad?”

He takes the longest pause, and heat already gathers in my chest before he explains the entire story. I shift between fury and concern. Red-hot rage flares my nose, and I pinch my eyes a few times to clam down.

I put him on speaker so I can change out of drawstring pants. I jump into sweats and pull on a plain white T-shirt. I need to see my little sister. Like now. Today. Tonight.

This is when I’d love to own a jetpack. Not a rinky-dink one. A supersonic jetpack that’d rival Iron Man’s suit.

“If you want to see the video for yourself tonight, you can stop by the WAC offices,” Oscar says.

“No,” I say firmly. “If I hear it again, I might do something I shouldn’t.” Like kill that bastard named Tye Smith. I grab my car keys as Farrow returns to the bedroom.

He gives me an assured nod like all is okay with Rip, but he studies my intensity in point-two seconds.

To Oscar on the phone, I say, “Just keep the footage safe. I’m gonna go talk to Kinney.”

“Will do.”

“And thanks for calling me first, Oscar.”

“Of course. Tell Redford I said hi.”

Farrow tilts his head. “I’m right here, Oliveira.”

“Knew it,” Oscar says, not enough humor in the night to laugh, but I appreciate some of the levity. “See ya.”

“Night,” Farrow says, and I hang up the phone. He looks to me in confusion while pulling a black tee over his head.

“I need to go to my parents’ house,” I tell him. “I have to talk to Kinney.”

“It’s the middle of the night. She’s asleep,” Farrow frowns.

“I’ll call her on the way.”

His brows shoot up. “Distracted and driving?” He stares at the keys in my fist.

“I forgot I can teleport,” I say dryly. “Let me just tap into that so I can make it there without wasting more time.”

“Hey,” Farrow steps forward and places a hand against the back of my skull, calming my stressed nerves for a moment. “I don’t even have the details of what’s wrong, but I know it’s serious.”

He’s right. I didn’t even tell him what’s going on. Now I feel like shit for that. He’s always quick to involve me.

“It’s Kinney,” I say in a shattered breath.

“I gathered that, wolf scout,” he replies.

“Yeah, well, it’s serious enough that I don’t feel like waiting until the morning. She could be spiraling and no one knew.” No one knew. It kills me the most. How long had my sister been holding onto this horrible moment all on her own? “Some kid at school cornered her in a closet and whipped out his dick to try and prove she’s not a lesbian.”

“What?” Farrow snaps in a surge of anger. Ire lances his eyes before his face travels through a series of emotions. Murderous and then just…crushed. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit.”

He runs his hand over his lip piercing. “That’s not okay.”

“If I want to strangle him, my dad is going to want to do so much worse, and I just need to talk to her first. I don’t even know if this was a one-time thing, Farrow. All we have is what she confessed on her camcorder.”

“Go,” he urges.

“You’re not coming with me?” I can feel my disappointment in my slowed heartbeat, but I don’t think he can hear it. My voice is made of indestructible things tonight.

“I am.” He’s grabbing his radio out of the end table drawer, then his gun. “I’m your bodyguard, or did you forget?”

“I wish I could,” I lie.

He kisses my temple as he passes to grab his phone, and the short blip of affection radiates inside my soul. I stare at my husband for a long beat, something more than severity and persistence pouring through me. Yeah, I’m thankful he didn’t call in a temp for a few hours. I’d much rather have Farrow as a tagalong bodyguard.

Never telling him that.

We make a pit stop to collect Ripley and some of his things.

“He’ll sleep in the car. I’ll watch him while you talk to your sister,” Farrow says.

Our roommates are asleep right now, and we wouldn’t wake them just to babysit. I doubt we’d even put that on them if it was the middle of the day.

Is it selfish to bring our baby along? Or is this just what parents do?

I don’t have time to question it. I have to go.

We have to go.

On second thought, I choose not to call Kinney on the way to the house. Last thing I want is for her to be alone when she finds out someone knows her secret.

“Girls have different sets of issues than guys,” I say to Farrow, my hand tensed on the wheel. Now that we’re headed to my sister in the middle of the night, the question he asked during Dune surfaces in my brain again. Do I want a girl next?

“Yeah, they do,” Farrow agrees.

“Huh. We’re agreeing all over the place.”

“You do love to copy me.”

“You copied me, and anyway, I don’t even know if we’d agree on whether we’d want a girl or a boy.

“I’d be slightly more nervous to raise a girl.” It comes out of left field.

I do a double-take.

“I know you love to look at me, but keep your eyes on the road, wolf scout.” He’s near laughter again.

I take a hand off the wheel to flip him off, and I can feel his drop-dead-gorgeous smile start to widen cheek-to-cheek. Not letting this go, I ask, “You’d be nervous?”

“A little bit,” he admits. “Probably less than you.”

I let out a dying laugh. “I don’t know what I’d be. I don’t really know what I want either. I haven’t thought about it that much yet.”

He peels plastic off a pack of gum. “Well, there’s still plenty of time for you to overthink this.” He slips me another teasing smile.

I can’t even hold in a scowl. Not as my hand slides over to his hand, not as he laces our fingers before I can make the move.

Warmth of his love bathes me. Relaxes me. Unwinds me before I’m wound back into reality. The gated entrance to the neighborhood comes into view.

I call Kinney when I’m parked in the driveaway. Farrow has left for the backseat. He slips in beside Ripley’s car seat, checking our snoozing baby boy before opening an electronic tablet. He said he needed to fill out paperwork for the med team.

Because of HIPAA, patient confidentiality, I can’t really know what about, but he’s giving me time to speak to my sister alone. We both agreed we didn’t want Kinney to feel ganged up on. So it’ll just be me.

It has to be me.

Phone to my ear, my sister answers on the second ring while I walk up the driveway.

“Moffy?” Kinney asks, sounding more awake than tired. It’s late, but Kinney is a certified night owl. She’s always challenging our parents’ curfew. “You’re up? Have you finally learned how to commune with ghosts? I told you it’s not that hard.”

“No ghosts.” I head towards the backyard. “I’m here at the house.” I slip through the back gate after I punch in a security code. “Wanna come talk to me real quick?”

“What for?” she asks, but I hear shuffling on her end.

“Just come down. I’m at the pool.”

“Okay. See you in a sec.” She hangs up, and I start pacing. I want to tell my parents, but my siblings have put so much goddamn trust in me and breaking it would kill me. Kill them. I have to get Kinney’s permission first.

It feels hot tonight. Hotter than a normal August night, and I rub sweat off the back of my neck. The back door softly opens and closes. Spinning around, I see my fourteen-year-old sister.

She just started high school this month. She looks younger than fourteen though with her soft features and thin frame. Even wearing a black robe with frilled cuffs, resembling something out of gothic literature, she barely passes for a teenager.

Walking over to me, Kinney’s expression sobers as soon as she notices my concern. “Is it Xander?” Her jaw sets tighter, and her arms padlock over her chest. “Is something wrong?”

My stomach clenches, feeling worse that she believes this is about Xander. Maybe she’s imagined this moment her whole life. Someone coming to tell her the worst thing happened to our brother.

I’ve imagined it too.

Too many times to count.

Though it’s always my mom coming to deliver that news.

Her green eyes flit up to the second story of the house. Where Xander should be sleeping.

“It’s not Xander,” I say, drawing her gaze back to me. “He’s okay as far as I know.”

She doesn’t look relieved. “Then what?” she snaps. “Luna?”

“You,” I say. “This is about you, Kin.”

Confusion pinches her brows, and she takes a step back. “I’m fine.”

“Jack was able to repair your camcorder,” I explain. “Him and Oscar listened to your diary entry about Tye Smith. I know—”

“No, you don’t know.” She stumbles backwards. “You have no idea. You don’t realize…”

“Kinney, Kinney.” I race over to my little sister.

“That was private.” Her eyes flame in rage, and her voice fluctuates between anger and pain. She’s trying hard not to cry. “Those assholes. You said you’d get the camcorder fixed; not that they’d watch it!”

“Kinney.” I reach out a hand.

She jerks back. “You know? They told you?” Her breathing quickens, on the very edge of sheer panic.

“Heyheyhey.” I raise my hands. “It’s okay, Kin—”

“It’s not okay. Nothing is okay.” She shakes out her arms like she can jostle off these feelings. Like she wants all emotions to flee.

I come forward and put my hands on her trembling shoulders. She shrugs me off quickly. “I’m fine, Moffy.” Her voice cracks, and she turns her back to me.

My heart is breaking. “Has it happened again?”

“No,” she snaps. “I would cut off his balls and fry them on a skillet.”

“Me too,” I say. “I still want to do that, actually.”

Kinney inhales, calming at this. Then slowly, she faces me. “I just want it to disappear. Vanish like it never happened. I talked about it to my diary and that was enough for me. I don’t need this to be a thing.”

“He exposed himself to you, Kinney,” I say, the mere phrase setting my blood to boil. “That’s a big thing that can’t be just pushed under the fucking rug. He should be punished. Balls on a skillet.” Doesn’t she want that?

She pales. “It’ll be all over the school, Moffy. I’ll be known as the girl who Tye Smith flashed in the supply closet! Worse, it could get out online, and then what? It’ll follow me forever. Just let it go. I have.”

Has she?

I crack my knuckles, and my jaw aches from clenching on my teeth. I don’t want to argue with Kinney about this. I don’t want to try and change her mind because at the end of the day, this is her life and this has to be her decision.

“Okay,” I tell her.

Surprise drops her mouth open. “Really?’

“Yeah,” I nod a couple times. “This is your choice. I’m just here if you need me.”

Her chin quivers, but she tries to remain tough. She eyes me like she’d be willing to accept a hug now, so I come close and rest a hand on her shoulder. My sister stays still, not jerking away. Even as I pull Kinney in a hug, she won’t uncross her arms, but she expels a few breaths.

“So we can…forget about it?” she wonders as our hug breaks.

“If that’s what you want. But I think you should at least talk to Mom and Dad—”

“No.” Her eyes flame.

“Kinney,” I say. “You want them to treat you like an adult? Don’t keep secrets from them. Not ones this big. Trust them. They’ll trust you, and I know they’re going to respect your decision.”

“They won’t,” she refutes, wiping her cheek roughly as a tear escapes. “Maybe they’d trust you, but I’m not you, Moffy.”

“Give them a chance. They’ll surprise you.”

She thinks about this for a half-second. “I’ll do it if you’re with me.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere.”

I call our mom and ask if she can meet us in the living room. Hurried footsteps sound on floorboards as Kinney pets Salem under the chin. The black-furred Newfie must sense Kinney’s nerves because she’s bumping up against her legs for more love.

Kinney looks up at me, sudden panic on her face. “I can’t do this.”

“I’m right here. I can talk if you need me too.”

“Okay, yeah,” she exhales and takes a seat on the fireplace’s low stone hearth. Salem curls up at Kinney’s feet.

“Moffy?” Our mom rushes in while slipping a Superheroes & Scones sweatshirt over her PJs. Right behind her, our dad—shirtless and in sweatpants—drills a sharp look between Kinney and me. Like he’s all too ready to annihilate the monsters under our beds.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Is Ripley here?” my mom questions, scanning the living room like her grandson might apparate into the air. She subconsciously holds out her hands, prepared to scoop him into her arms.

I love how much my mom loves my kid.

“He’s in the car with Farrow,” I explain. “Farrow is doing some work stuff.” And waiting way better than I would be able to. Yeah. I’m highly aware. “Can you both take a seat?”

Our mom sits on the couch without missing a beat. Our dad, however, remains standing. He’s still trying to piece shit together.

“You should be in bed.” He points at Kinney. “You should be halfway across the city.” He points at me. “Late-night family reunions don’t just happen.”

“They could,” I say. “We could make it a thing.”

“I’d like that,” our mom smiles. “Wouldn’t that be nice, Lo?”

“Not if they’re used to deliver bad news, Lil.”

Her face falls. “This is really bad?” She was hoping it was good news.

“It’s better if you sit, Dad,” Kinney says from the floor.

“That’s so reassuring,” he deadpans. He does sit next to our mom this time.

“Moffy,” Kinney motions me to start.

I’m not dragging this out. I employ the Band-Aid “rip it off” method. I’m not going to say Farrow taught me, but for some damn reason, I think of him. “Something happened at school that Kinney needs to tell you about.”

Their attention diverts to Kinney. “At school?” our mom asks with a frown.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not a big deal, Mom. Moffy is just like super intense.” She glares at me, as if this is my fault.

Jesus. I tried.

“Your mom and I will decide how big of a deal it is,” our dad says. “Once we figure out what the hell is going on.” He looks to me, but Kinney is already speaking.

“You two will think it’s a big deal too,” she snaps. “But I was there. I have everything handled. I handled it.” She fights tears and stuffs her face into Salem. “Ughhh,” she groans in frustration. Through Salem’s fur, I hear her say, “Just tell them, Moffy.”

I don’t want to paint a graphic picture. I haven’t heard the camcorder recording myself. So I just give the basics. The same thing I gave Farrow.

“A kid at school cornered her in a closet and exposed his dick to Kinney in order to prove she’s not a lesb—”

“Whoa, whoa.” My dad is already on his feet, fire blazing through his amber eyes. “He what?” Sheer malice spews off the word.

Our mom tries to go to Kinney in comfort, but she says, “I’m fine, Mom. It’s over.” So she gives her some space.

“Is he expelled?” our dad asks Kinney. “Is he a thousand-feet in the goddamn ground and curled up in a fetal position of shame? Have I murdered him so his entire blood lineage can never procreate again? Because it’s not over until that happens, Kinney.”

She shakes her head repeatedly. “Dad, please, don’t!”

Our dad looks confused. “That little shit dropped his pants in front of you, my daughter—our daughter.” He motions to our mom. “He did it to prove something diabolical, and you don’t want him to suffer the consequences?”

“I don’t.” She’s near tears.

He frowns. “Give me one good reason not to ruin his life.”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

His face breaks. Shocked that Kinney wouldn’t want retribution. The same way I’d been surprised she retracted the skillet for his testicles.

“We’ll put murder and destruction on the backburner,” our mom says, her arm around our dad. “Let’s just hear Kinney out, Lo.”

He nods, touches her arm, and then asks Kinney, “Why don’t you want me to go after him?”

“It’s not a big deal. Please don’t make it one.”

“What if he does this to someone else?” our mom asks.

She shakes her head. “He’s stupid but not that stupid.”

Our dad’s jaw sharpens. “The school should at least know what happened.”

“Please, don’t,” Kinney pleads. “Please. I just want this to go away. I don’t want anyone at school involved.”

Our mom walks over and sits next to her at the hearth. Kinney inches away like she doesn’t want the comfort just yet. Our mom just pets Salem and says, “You should talk to someone about what happened. It doesn’t have to be us if you’re not ready.”

“I’m talking to Moffy.” Kinney looks to me for backup.

“Yeah, we’re talking,” I say, and I try to soften my gaze. “We could talk more though.”

She thinks about it, then nods. “I could do that.”

Our dad still stands near the couch like he’s seconds from bolting out the front door. “I know you said you’re fine,” he says. “But if you ever become not fine, you let us know?”

Kinney nods, but I think she’s too choked up to actually reply.

“And we’ll table this,” he says. “We won’t do anything you don’t want us to do.”

Kinney almost starts crying but she takes a deeper breath. “You’re serious?” Her voice shakes.

“Of course,” our mom says, scooting closer. Kinney lets her put an arm around her shoulders. “But you know where we stand. Team Kinney. Never Team Whats-His-Face.”

“Sick-Fuck-Face.”

Kinney gasps at the curses our dad unleashes too easily. He does try to censor himself some around the younger kids.

“You have a better name?” he asks Kinney.

She wipes her nose. “I like yours. And I know you want me to throw him under the bus.”

“Under the bus, under a train, under a goddamn pile driver.” Our dad flashes a dry smile. “Preferably.”

Kinney snorts, her lips rising.

My phone vibrates in my hand. It’s from Oscar. I click into the text.

If Kinney needs to talk, we’re all down for an Emergency Rainbow Brigade Meeting tonight. I can call the others. – Oscar

“Kinney.” I walk over to the fireplace and show her the text.

She’s smiling. The first one all night. She created the Rainbow Brigade and personally invited every member. The idea that we could all get together in support of her has to hit her in the heart.

“You think they’d all come?” she asks, hopeful.

“Yeah, for sure.” I nod strongly.

I’ll make sure of it.

She bites the edge of her lip. “Okay, tell him he has permission from the president to call the emergency meeting.”

“Emergency meeting?” our mom asks.

I’m already texting Oscar back. “The Rainbow Brigade,” I explain and then look between our parents. “And I know it’s past curfew, but can I take Kinney out?” I hate to burden my parents any, but I ask, “And can you watch Ripley while I’m gone?”

Farrow is a part of the Rainbow Brigade, and I don’t want Kinney to feel like our attention is on our kid and not her.

Mom beams. “Yes and yes. Give him to me.” She wiggles her fingers.

Dad makes a face. “You’ll have to fight me for our grandson, love.”

She gapes. “What? Nooo.”

“I need baby time, Lil. Something that makes me forget about murder.” He’s still tense, and maybe he needs to vent more than hold a baby. I know he’s dealt with bad situations before, and I doubt this’ll lead him to break his sobriety, but maybe the desire to drink is in his head. Somewhere. Looming.

“We’ll split cute squishy baby time,” our mom says.

He turns to Kinney. “Have fun, little Slytherin. Enjoy your one night with no curfew.”

“I will.” She springs to her feet and darts to the staircase. “I have to change first though. I can’t be caught dead in pajamas at a Rainbow Brigade meeting.” She disappears upstairs.

I struggle to leave. I just watch my dad. “Are you okay?”

“I feel like I could destroy a hundred planets and every version of this little shit. But I won’t go to the school. I won’t,” he assures my mom who’s giving him a do not eye. “I promised our daughter I wouldn’t.”

“Then what are you going to do?” she asks.

“Call his parents. I’ll erase this for Kinney.”

I have no fucking clue what that entails, but as a dad now, I have a feeling I wouldn’t be able to do nothing either.

He glances at the time on a wall clock. “Emergency rhymes with urgency for a reason.” He flashes a half-smile at me. “Chop, chop. Grandson. Diaper bag. Anything else he needs. Now.”

I laugh. “Walking. That way. Bye.”

He almost smiles back. “Never goodbye.”

That stays with me all the way to the driveway. On the way to the car, I see my husband talking to our son. He looks like he’s having a full-on conversation with Rip.

Every footfall towards them fortifies me. Builds me up to handle anything. I need to be the person anyone can call on. The one to help any crisis.

I love this role.

But part of me recognizes a truth: I love being a husband and a father even more.

Thanks so much for reading this month's main bonus scene! We hope you enjoyed it!!

If you're wondering what Lo does to Tye Smith, he explains what happens in the Sobriety bonus scene.

Next up will be the Oscar POV we've teased on the Fizz Hangout. It's a big one, so we wanted to save the best for last this month 💞

xoxo Krista & Becca

“Kinney's Secret Is Revealed," Copyright © 2023 by K.B. Ritchie