Because of You

Reasons

I had made plans with Octavia to study the following evening. She had a paper due on the French Revolution which I was willing to help her with. When I'd told Thalia what I had planned, she'd given me a baffled look, quickly followed by the obvious, "But she's a freshman."

Which was, perhaps, why I found Octavia's company refreshing. She wasn't yet completely enamored by the prospect of boys and was too young to be graphic in the ways Thalia could be. I didn't have to worry about her mentioning some guy she'd met at a party or stealing my sweets out of the cookie jar I had stashed in the back of the pantry.

No, the only thing I had to proceed with caution on when it came to Octavia was all genetic affiliations.

And that's precisely what I did, come six o'clock. I was already caught up on homework but this was as good a time as any to finish that chapter on hematomas. I was grateful that I didn't have to go and pick up Octavia myself; Mrs. Roffan dropped her off at my house when she came off work and I led Octavia inside.

"Wow," she breathed, staring up at the high-vaulted ceiling lit by two uplight chandeliers. "Your house is . . ."

"Pretty bare," I mumbled, motioning her to take a seat anywhere in the living room. I'd turned on the TV earlier, the Friends theme song playing around the carpeted room.

"Where's your mom?" Octavia asked, setting down her backpack.

Snatching up the remote, I lowered the volume on the TV. "Work."

"Doesn't she eat?"

"She eats there."

"So then you see her after dinner?"

I sighed. "Sometimes."

For some reason, Octavia found this shocking. Her mouth popped open. "Doesn't she sleep here?"

I lifted my shoulders, returning to my seat on the white sofa. I tucked my feet beneath me. "Not always. They have on-call rooms at the hospital where she sleeps. She works a lot of thirty-four hour shifts." I didn't mention how lonely this house got at night and I didn't mention the few times I'd wake to nightmares, wanting to crawl into bed with my mom only to remember she wasn't home.

After a year with her empty bed, I'd learned how to deal with those nightmares on my own.

I could tell by Octavia's ambivalent expression she didn't want to pry, but it obviously still bothered her. Like her brother, she didn't try hard to hide what she was feeling. In fact, she let it all into her face.

"It's okay," I added, trying to comfort her for my solitude. "I'm almost an adult and I'll be moving out next year anyway."

This seemed to help some but she still looked uneasy as she retrieved her books from her bag and opened them up on the coffee table.

"If you say so," she murmured.

*******

An hour later, a knock came from the front door.

I shut the medical textbook I'd been reading and stood. "Must be the mailman."

"At seven at night?" Octavia asked from behind her own textbook.

I shrugged but didn't offer an explanation as I hurried down the entrance hall. I honestly didn't know who it would be, but I definitely did not open the door expecting a tall, brooding figure to be on the other side of it.

My eyes widened at the sight of Bellamy, standing stoic on the weathered Welcome mat that looked about as cheerful as I felt.

I stared up at Bellamy, his dark eyes dropping to mine. My mind hit replay on our previous conversation.