Face To Call Home (Love Came In #1) ✔️

Chapter 1

"Brooke! Get your ass up and out of that bed!" Dad yelled from the kitchen in a teasing, but still serious voice. My hibernation habits had always amused him greatly for some reason, even though he was the one I got it from.

Seconds later, I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs and into my room. The comforter I was wrapped around with was pulled off, and I hissed as the sudden burst of light hit my face, the movement making me fall off the bed and land oh-so-gracefully, face first on the floor. My caveman hair covered my face, and my dad laughed at me, his chortling loud and clear. Thanks dad, so much for supporting me in my hard times, eh?

"It's too early for this kind of abuse dad," I muttered, already half asleep on the floor. Each morning, everyday, I have this discussion with my dad during the summer break that was now coming to an end.

"It's 2 in the afternoon, Bo," he replied, walking out the door with my comforter dragging along and referring to my very childish and immature nickname he insisted on calling me. It brought a pang of sadness with it - it was what my mum used to call me as well, and the sound of her always cheerful voice shouting it out to call Matt and I for dinner still echoed in my ears after almost 2 years of her death.

My head pooped up and my eyes followed my comforter, a pained look on my face. What a shame, really.

"Didn't your mom teach you to respect valuable items?" I called after him in my throaty, raspy and very unattractive morning voice when I saw him dragging my comforter along with him down the stairs. He gave me a blank look, one that said I have given up hope on you. Its funny, really, when he scolds me about this, like the pot calling the kettle black.

My arms lifted me up and off of the floor as my back and neck creaked like rusty hinges in an old woman's body. As I walked towards him, I ran a hand through my messy hair and noticed, as I came out of my room, a big lump under the sheets in the room next to mine, the loud sound of snoring coming from that direction.

"How come Matt gets to sleep extra?" I whined, frowning at my dad as we walked into the kitchen.

"Give him a break, Bo. You know how tired he was last night." My dad replied, giving me a look.

"Okay, god. I'll spare him this time." I muttered. Matt was my elder brother. He was a year older to me, the most overprotective yet the sweetest brother ever, even though I would never tell him that. He returned last night after attending military training in a camp in eastern Virginia after 2 years of staying away from my dad and me.

We still hadn't gotten the whole run down of the past two years, where he had gone and what he'd done and even though he had kept in touch with us, sending many long letters (that on more than one occasion made me cry) and little gifts on both our birthdays, his presence was really strange and felt weird because of the suddenness of his arrival.

I still had mixed feelings about it, not sure if I was happy or angry at him for running the first chance he got instead of being there for us and letting us do the same. I brushed the thoughts to the back of my mind, choosing not to open up past wounds.

My eyes fell on the steaming cup of coffee on the table and I lunged for it, like a mad woman removed from her leash. My dad, spotting the danger, swatted my hands away in time. "Get your own." He scolded in a playful manner. I scowled at him.

"Its two in the afternoon Bo." I mimicked in a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like his. "Then why the hell are you drinking coffee, huh?" I demanded.

My dad just shrugged in a man of the world way and went back to his newspaper.

My socked feet padded across the floor and I got on to the process of making coffee for myself, moving across the kitchen.