Magnetic

Chapter Twenty-One

"A bicycle! A scooter!" Paisley exclaimed, standing up onto her feet, as if that would help her figure out what Gage was acting out.

Our usual group of four was in the living room, playing Charades: a game that all of us, but mostly Gage, sucked at. Brady and I sat on the couch, his thin arm draped around my shoulders, and Paisley had just gotten up from the recliner, where she spent most of her time when she was at my house.

"Moped," Brady guessed.

Compared to the rest of us, Brady wasn't that bad at Charades. He was actually pretty good, always being the one to guess correctly when the rest of us were stuck.

"Yes!" Gage yelled, turning his attention back over to Paisley, who was getting comfortable again in the recliner. "A bicycle? My feet weren't moving at all. I wasn't pedaling."

"Well, you're terrible at acting. There was no way for me to guess that."

He rolled his eyes and sat on the other side of the couch as Brady got up and chose a card on the coffee table.

Brady cupped his hand, as if he was holding an ice cream cone, and made a swirling gesture above it.

"Ice cream," I guessed. To be fair, Brady did always get the easiest cards to act out.

He pointed to me, signaling that I was correct, and sat back down beside me as the garage door creaked open.

"Hello?" I called out. My father wasn't supposed to be home for two more hours, but no one else was able to open the garage door.

"It's just me, Nicki," my dad said. I could hear another voice, a woman's, whisper something.

My father walked in, a woman behind him. She had brown hair, tan skin, and green, almond-shaped eyes. Her nose was more hooked-shaped, but she was unconventionally pretty. And young.

"Nicki, this," he pointed to the lady, "is Ireland."

Ireland giggled and wrapped herself around my father's right arm. What was going on?

"Hi, Ireland?" I didn't mean to make it sound so much like a question, but my father obviously got the message.

"Can I talk to you for a moment alone, Nicki?" he said, nodding toward the hallway pass the living room.

I got up, feeling extremely confused, and followed him down the hallway.

"Nicki." He put his hands on my shoulders. "Ireland and I have been dating for two months. I thought it was time you met her."

I felt like my world completely paused. Like the earth had momentarily stopped spinning.

After my mother died, my father actually made me two promises: that he'd never drink again (a promise broken earlier) and that he would never date or marry anyone else. He always said that my mother was the only woman that would ever be for him.

"You're trying to replace Mom?" I muttered.

My father opened his mouth to reply, but I was already dashing upstairs, slamming my bedroom door behind me.

I fell onto my comforter, the familiar sting of tears entering my eyes. No matter how hard I tried to think of something else (play rehearsal tomorrow, how stupid Gage looks when he's acting out a moped, Alexander freaking out about revising and editing a love letter), my brain kept coming back to my father and Ireland. He was replacing her. He was trying to, at least. No one could replace my mother. Absolutely no one.

There was a knock at my door, startling me as I heaved out a heavy sob.

"Go away, Dad," I yelled, forcing my face into one of my pillows.

"Brady. Can I come in, Nicki?"

There really wasn't much that being alone could do, and I preferred Brady's company. "Alright," I squeaked quietly. I rubbed a hand over my hair to make it look more presentable.

The door peeled open and revealed Brady. He looked at me with concerned, loving eyes as he quietly shut the door behind him.

"It's okay, Nicki." He took my left hand and folded it into his as he sat down beside me. "Everything will be okay."

"No, it won't," I cried, pulling my hand away from his grasp and rubbing my eyes with it. "My father is a hypocrite. A liar. He promised me that my mother would be the only person for him. He broke the two promises he made to me."

I was reminded of the night I snuck out of my house, Brady holding me as I bawled my eyes out, him knowing there was nothing he could say that could make this situation better than it was.

And just like that night, he hugged me, wrapping his arms around me and rubbing my back as I sobbed uncontrollably, making it hard for me to even talk. My eyes felt sprained and sore. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," I wailed again. He didn't understand, he never would, and we both knew it. I was just glad he wasn't trying to act like he understood, a mistake that so many people make all the time when they try to console someone.

"It's okay," he repeated, hugging me tighter. "It will be okay. You will be okay, Nicki. I promise you, I will make sure of it."

"You promise?" I glanced up at his eyes, which were teary, the ceiling light from above reflecting off of them.

He looked down at me and kissed my tear-stained cheek as lightly as he could, as if he was worried that he would break me. "I promise."