Keep Me In | DR3 | BOOK 1

75 - More Life

Daniel gripped the edge of the door. "I'm yours. I'll wait as long as you need."

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- 📍 London, England -

I was four-and-a-bit when I started counting out my Halloween candies after we had returned home from trick-or-treating.

Instantly I'd kick my shoes off, and run to my bedroom, too motivated to take off whatever scratchy Disney princess dress I had on. This must be done.

Now, granted, at four-and-a-bit I could drive laps around my brothers for more than four hours a day, as long as I had sufficient snack breaks and a good nights sleep prior. But could I count those laps past the first eleven? Not a chance.

So I'd enlisted Rory to help me. Carson was conniving, and one year tricked Rory into giving him most of his loot. Thankfully Rory learned his lesson the hard way, the way only an older brother could teach you not to believe everything someone says - so that I wouldn't have to. Perks of being the baby sister.

So what was I so worried about, if Rory was on my side? It was two versus one. Wrong. Because that same year, at Easter, I witnessed the unthinkable.

"You're not brushing your teeth properly, Shark. You heard the dentist. I'm doing you and your back molars a favour."

Was how he justified it. How Dad tried to get me to stop crying. It didn't work. While I knew my back molars were at the highest risk of cavities, plus they took the longest to become wiggly and fall out for the Tooth Fairy - I didn't give a rats ass. He was eating my Easter bunny chocolates.

I woke up from a bad dream that night. I emerged from my room holding my brand new bunny, who's belly lit up when I activated it so it could guide me down the long hall, to the stairs, sliding down them one by one on my bum.

And into the living room, where I found Dad. His illuminated face. His feet up on the footrest of the couch, crossed one over the other with his toes wiggling. He had been watching the replays of whatever Formula One race had aired while we were consumed by Grandma Eva and Easter dinner.

Normally I'd curl right up next to him. Between work, making sure Carson got to his Karting events, and I mine, not to mention school and other child-like activities like playdates and birthday parties - Dad almost never got to watch anything live. F1, NASCAR, Baseball, 'Jeopardy', the news; none of it.

It was almost routine at this point. Dad would read us a story, hug us each 4 times and make sure we were tucked in the way we liked. Then after Rory fell asleep (he always took the longest), Dad would retreat downstairs to watch his replays on the TiVo.

Then I'd come join him, until I re-fell asleep.

But tonight I wanted nothing more than to be older. Because if I was older, bigger, my fists would make more of a thud as they hit the hardwood. My feet would kick higher, my voice would travel farther through the house. Into the yard. It would surely wake the whole neighbourhood, in fact.

"The Easter bunny left those for ME, Dad!" I managed through snotty, dribbling lips. "I found them, fair and square!"

Rory gave me the idea the next morning when he found me laying in bed with an iron grip around my green and baby-pink Easter basket.