His Angel

16.

ANGELINA

I rounded down the steps into the kitchen where Mom and Dad stood, setting the table. 

Back when I told Mom that I missed them, they started family dinners. She made sure we ate together at least three times a week when possible. Last year, when I stopped going out as much and locked myself in my room, sometimes my family were the only people I talked to in a day. 

"You're getting in late, was it busy at the diner?" Mom asked.

I pursed my lips. She worried when I talked about therapy. "No, I had an appointment with Dr. Burkhart."

She paused, the fork she was placing mid-air. "I thought your appointment wasn't for another two days." Mom smiled tightly.

I shrugged passively. "Dr. Burkhart has to leave town so she asked to move my appointment up." I lied. If I told her I needed to really talk, she'd be worried, and I didn't want her to worry about me anymore.

I masked the lingering anxiety from my appointment. After dinner, I needed to talk to Jensen. Dr. Burkhart really helped clear some space in my head and I could think clearly. Jensen and I needed to slow down before we burned each other out. I liked him, but we had time now that Daniel wasn't a factor anymore. He never should have been in the first place.

She nodded and took her seat at the table. "You're working tomorrow, right? Are you free after?"

I nodded slowly, knowing what she was about to ask.

"How about we do a little shopping, hm? You need some new shoes, don't you?" She smiled. 

I didn't need new shoes, nor did I need new dresses, new shirts, new purses, or new skirts. But any time my mom wanted to talk to me about something, she took me shopping. Whether it was to celebrate whatever she was going to say, or buy me a pair of Steve Madden's to soften the blow, shopping was the tell-tale sign.

"Sure. Sounds good, Mom." I sighed, sitting down. The back door closed behind me as Daniel stepped inside. I tensed, looking down at my food.

"Hey, did you see the car? How's it going with Jensen?" Dad exclaimed as they both took their seats.

Daniel grumbled something in response, looking down as well. 

"Daniel, honey, what happened to your face?" Mom asked, trying to hold his chin. He turned away from her, waving his hand off at her. 

"It's nothing, Mom. Can we just eat, please?" He asked, picking up his knife and fork. I glanced upwards. His face had reddening marks across his cheekbone and temple. 

Mom thread her brows together, standing and taking his face in her hands. "Where did you get these marks? Daniel James Rushmore, you tell me and your father right now." 

His cheeks warmed to a shade of pink, and I don't think it was because Mom just middle-named him.

I snorted. "Jensen totally just kicked your ass, didn't he?" I smiled. 

Mom's jaw hung open. "What? Jensen did this? Why?" 

I crossed my arms over my chest, shrugging and looking at Daniel. A smug smirk grew across my lips. "Because Jensen just found out Daniel smokes weed."  

"Angie." He snapped. The vein in his temple throbbed and his eyes were wide as saucers.

Daniel wanted to play bitchy older brother? I could play snitchy little sister.

Mom and Dad froze for a minute. No one knew what to do. My parents were pretty cool, but they never talked about substances other than drinking— which they didn't care if we did so long as we were responsible.