The Next Chapter: Twisted Series Next Generation

Chapter 18: Dahlia Harper

"Are you sure?" Camilla questions for the millionth time, her hands respectfully resting on her lap. Eyes studying every crevice of my face for the slighted implication of hesitation.

A smile lifts my face as I kill the engine and pull the car to a halt by the sidewalk, the sun barely peeks out with a glimmer of orange radiating the sky for the indication that morning has joined. "You make it sound like the Queen of Sheba is staying over."

"Not far from it." She mutters quietly, her leer gazing back to find Charlotte sprawled in the backseat. Her hair blanketing her shoulders while she evenly breathes into her dreamland. 

"I feel bad for waking her, I can't tell if she slept well or not." Murmuring with a load of guilt weighing down on her expression.

"She can sleep on the plane." I suggest, slumping back in my own seat, keeping my eyes stitched open to add no rumours of my weariness, which would further Camillas guilt. "It's better if you wake her now.

Journeying her eyes back to my face while she attempts to defy the defeated look that urges to join, "Is he okay?"

Furrowing my eyebrows before the realisation that she means my youngest brother. A reassuring look incepts my face while my palm reaches out and cup her shoulder. "Don't fret, he has more control over it now. Mom said he was already calm by the time he reached home." My voice trails off before my lips straighten into a flat line. "I'm sorry by the way, I didn't think he'd be so awful."

Her response is an unbothered shrug as she rubs her nape, "As much as I hate to say this. Bug's used to it by now. Just had to cry for a bit to get it out of her system." Watching as Camillas' shoulders physically droop at the sight before her gaze lifts to mine. "No offence, I'm not your brother's biggest fan right now."

A smile curls my lips as I wave a reassuring hand in her direction, "Can't say I blame you, you've got an Eladora war on your hands now."

"Again, It won't be long." She implies while straightening her stance, "It'll be four days at most, I just need her to cool down and then I'll fly her home."

"Relax I love Anastasia. She's more then welcome to stay as long as she wants.'' I emphasize while curling my fingers around her shoulders. "Can't believe your parents gave you the go ahead to do this-." My words die down in my throat as a guilty expression fans her face, a corner of her lip awkwardly tilts up while she rubs her arm.

"Well." She sings songs as she shoves strands of her pale hair behind her shoulders.

Resisting the urge to snicker in response, laying my arms as a pillow on the steering while my chin perches up on the skin. Shooting an eyebrow up practically to my hair line. "Can't wait to see how this turns out."

Her hands awkwardly rest by her sides while she keeps her look trained on the sleeping beauty in the backseat. "That's a later problem for me, I'll figure out something to tell them on the plane."

"You sure you don't want me to walk you in?"

"Nah, you worry about brunch later today."

A groan falls from my lips. Due to the lesser than wanted complications that just had to arise the week my parents were in town, they suggested a get together to see for themselves if we had everything under control.

I needed to get back and make a game plan with my brothers so neither mom or dad could get under any of our skins and figure out what was wrong.

They do not know about Callum getting punched by Jeremy so we need to get our stories right about that one, and Maverick needs to convince them he is fine. Knowing my parents, they will be using this as an opportunity to move any of us back home.

If either of them get the resolve that the implication of problems was on the tip of our tongues, the both of them would disregard any tasks they had to stay here and take care of us. Which mom most certainly can not do this month, she has a fashion show in two weeks where a journalist from Websters will be attending.

The entire company has a reputation for being ruthless and cruel when crediting stuff. Although mom is an incredibly successful woman, Websters could do great damage if anything ill mannered was written about her.

"I'll survive." I reassure her before letting my eyes narrow, "Will you?" Questioning with genuine concern.

Her lips stretch out with charisma and confidence, "Always."

Frustration laces my expression while halting my monologue and pinching the cigarette out of Callums grip.

Only then catching his attention while his unamused expression lifts to enlighten me with the unpleasant appeal.

"There is a no smoking rule here. And you know mom hates it when you do it." I emphasis with a narrowed gaze.

He seems to take no actual threat to my words as he unhurriedly places the zippo back on the table for anyone to see. Stretching his long legs out while sitting there slumped in his seat.

My eyes roll so far back in my head that I see my brain, reaching forward and grabbing the lighter as I pocket the cigarette and zippo in my purse in hurried movements that could not contrast my brothers enough.

After finally capturing both of their attentions, my gaze mimics as stern as it can be to hold their attention. "Do you two really want mom and dad sniffing around for the next month?"

That catches their attention, yet their body language makes no direct change to imply that they have any more interest than roadkill.

"What's the big fuss?" Maverick speaks up while he readjusts everything in front of it, straightening the utensils and napkins to his liking. "The only thing is that Callum got punched, and they believe I'm fine."

Carefully, I pry his hand off of the table and onto his lap, "Are you?" Emphasizing before I reach into my back. Introducing a compression ball as I play it in his hand. Wrapping his fingers around it.

In response, he only grumbles before throwing his head back in an exasperated manner.

"Maverick."

In response and to my delight, he readjusts his stance and offers me a mock salute.

One down, last one to go.

Letting my attention fall back onto Callum, he twirls a fork pinched between his fingers. "I don't need stitches." He motions back to the cut on his lip.

Wincing at the sight of it, "What are you going to tell them?" I ask.

His unbothered expression tenses my shoulders, "I was joke fighting with Mav and he punched."

The notion was flawed and could still raise concern but if all three of us were to bargain enough then we should be able to shake them off of our trail.

Assuring them a stern nod, satisfied with each of their appeals on this situation.

Just in time too, the door flies open and murmurs begin to track around the atmosphere.

The three of our heads whip in unison as a battle stance.

"Well." A playful voice delights us, my beautiful mother graces us with her presence. Adorned in a coral dress that perfectly compliments the complexion she so kindly gifted to me. "If it isn't my three children who never call their mother to reassure her that they aren't dead." Quipping with a smile that completely contrasts my father next to her.

His arm curled tightly around her narrow waist as the two painting worthy individuals stopped before us.

A lump enlarges in my throat while tension ridges my already stiff muscles. Plastering an encouraging smile as I meet their gazes.

So now, the battle begins.