CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kalen
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Dalton finally went to bed about an hour ago.
I don’t hear Luna walking around anymore either.
A glance at the clock next to my bed tells me that it’s half past midnight, and for some reason, I still don’t feel any more tired than I did before Dalton left my room.
Running my hands down my face, I decide that the only thing that’s going to wear me out enough to go to sleep is trying to talk to Hailey again.
I usually leave her room so angry, and it drains me as much physically as it does emotionally.
I walk toward the door to my bedroom and pull it open as quietly as I can. Peering into the hallway, I glance up and down both ways before I step out into the semi-darkness.
One visit to Hailey’s room this week is enough to make Dalton suspicious, but twice will put him on high alert.
I wonder why he gets so fussy when I try to spend time with Hailey alone. It’s almost as if he sees himself as the more responsible brother and that I’ll do something rash if he isn’t there watching.
I scoff as I make my way toward Hailey’s bedroom door, then gently push it open and slip inside, turning the lock above the doorknob behind me.
The sliver of moonlight that catches her body as she sleeps on the bed makes me smile slightly. It’s almost like watching Luna on her first night under our roof again, and while I have no love for Hailey, I find myself suddenly feeling protective of her.
There are so many things that she could have been, but she was never really given the chance.
First by her grandparents who raised her, and then by Luke who ruined whatever good may have been left behind.
I sigh as I cross my arms over my chest and watch her from the foot of her bed.
She was so goddamn beautiful once.
Her hair was always neatly kempt, her eyes were vibrant, and her skin was never this blotchy.
I close my eyes and try to think of a time when Hailey actually meant something to me.
It was our fourth birthday party, mine and Dalton’s. She made such a big deal out of us being a year older, decorated the house with as many toy monster trucks as she could find, and bought the biggest cake I had ever seen in my life.
She sang us happy birthday with all of the love and affection that a mother could muster, and laughed when Dalton and I kept shoving each other out of the way to blow the candles out.
We used half of the cake for a food fight between the three of us. She had set it up perfectly because we were still young boys and she wanted us to have fun.
Just the three of us.
Alone in this house.
With no one to join our party or caring that we existed.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I open my eyes again, and use a knuckle to wipe away a bitter tear.
Then one day she woke up and decided that she had pretended for long enough.
I drop my hands to my side as I watch her sleep for a moment longer, then lean down and rest my palms on either side of her feet.
Something inside of me, something I don’t quite recognize, is telling me to take the love I so desperately want from her.
The love that I pretend not to care about, the kind that would make everything feel so much better, and make it feel like all of the times Dalton and I have suffered alone have been absolutely worth it.