By the Playbook

By the Playbook (7)

I woke up earlier than I'd expected the next morning to the sound of Olivia shouting, which was odd in itself. Olivia wasn't the type to yell, even if Kasey did something stupid like she usually had.

I chuckled a bit, then rolled onto my stomach and wrapped my arms around the pillow. I pressed my cheek against the cool side, waiting for the shouting to stop, but it only grew louder.

I had woken at three. When the clock read four, I pulled myself out of bed ruefully, ready to go intercept the fight or at very least, eavesdrop. I miglanced in the mirror - Ryder's shirt was much too big and hit me around mid thigh, and I shrugged. Modest enough, and none of the girls would care.

"But Mom-" greeted me when I opened the door, letting out a little shriek of surprise before clapping my hand over my mouth. Brent yawned, standing only a few feet from my door, back facing me. "Morning."

I pressed my palm to my chest, where my heart was racing. "You scared the crap out of me."

"What'd they do?" He chuckled, amused. Lulu curled at his feet, pawing at her ears with one paw, and I bent to scratch her head. "Kasey didn't tell me very much, but as far as I know, she found some letters from some long-lost admirer of your mother's," I chuckled as Brent shook his head smiling. "She decided to go pay him a visit."

"Did he know?"

"Nope," I popped the 'p' with a laugh. "She just went to find something to bring for your mom, I don't really know."

He rubbed his palms over his face. "My sister's a piece of work."

"Ryder, Cass, and Caleb went with her."

He fell silent, then chuckled a bit. "Oh,"

Even without looking at him, I could tell he was hurt. They probably hadn't invited him, knowing he would be no use if it came to a fight, and that helping him would only slow them down. But still, I knew, it must have hurt to be shunned by his siblings, even innocently.

I wrapped my arm around him and squeezed for comfort, then took his hand. "Come on," I said, leading him to my bedroom. "I got your English notes typed up."

He stumbled a bit, and I slowed to accommodate him. When he was seated on my bed, I pulled out my laptop, blinking as the harsh lights hurt my eyes. I let out a little groan, and Brent stiffened. "What?"

I shook my head, then remembered he couldn't see it. "The computer lights," I said, a bit hesitantly. The expression on his face said what he didn't - he would rather be in a bit of discomfort if it meant he was able to see the lights.

I clicked open the notes, then a robotic voice began to read what I had typed.

William Shakespeare was born in 1564 in Stratford-upon-Avon...

Brent smiled. "Thanks, Addie. You're sure you don't mind?"

"I type them anyways," I smiled reassuringly at him, reaching to click on the lamp and bathing the room in a soft golden light.

He married Anne Hathaway in 1582...

"Can I ask you something?" Brent asked, shifting to face me. I moved to face him. "Shoot."

"Are you okay? You seemed upset earlier." He was a bit hesitant, but I only smiled. "Ryder was in a pissy mood after practice and kept yelling at me. It's all good."

He sighed a bit. I nudged him, still surprised at how much he'd filled out from the first time I'd seen him. He was solid muscle now, the harsh contours of his abdomen rivaling Ryder's. "Sorry I yelled at you. And stormed in your room."