A Million Shattered Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Three

~ "Oh my darling, it's true. Beautiful things have dents and scratches too."

I sensed the tension in the air the second I walked into the Ruskin household. Loud music blared somewhere deeper inside, the soundtrack to some type of epic fantasy movie I assumed. The smell of food wafted through the air, and my stomach clenched. Earlier, I had been too nervous to think of food, concerned more about the brief appointment with the doctor.

Brock waited for me to take my shoes off. His hand rested on my lower back, the contact making me blush. Eternity would never be enough to get me used to the way I felt. We could spend our entire lives together, and I knew, deep down, I would always get flustered around him.

As I had predicted, Mr. and Mrs. Ruskin were watching a movie. Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, to be exact. I started to grin.

"Look who's here!" Mr. Ruskin smiled at our entrance. "Nice to see you again, Claire. It's been a while."

"It has," I said, my words scarcely above a whisper.

Though I spent half of my free time at Brock's house, it had been weeks since I last saw or spoke to his father. With Mr. Ruskin always busy at work, it made it near impossible.

Brock's mother pried herself away from the television long enough to offer me a tense smile. I knew where the whirlwind of emotions came from now.

The topic of Mrs. Ruskin had never come up, but I had this inner instinct that she must suffer from depression just like her son. The scars on her own wrists told a story. The hollowness in her cheeks made me worry. If this ran in the family, I feared for any of his future children. Would they suffer in silence, too?

Mr. Ruskin scooted closer to his wife, making enough room for Brock and me. "Come on, guys. Join us. Lunch is in the oven, it should be ready soon."

"Are you sure? Cause we can just go downstairs if—"

"Nonsense! We're a family. Time to start acting like one." He patted the spot beside him, studying Brock closely.

With a sigh, Brock pulled me with him to the couch. He sat beside his father, an arm going around my shoulders. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. To be incorporated into their little family. That made me feel a bit better.

Brock rested his head in the crook of my neck, and I was certain he must feel my heart pounding away. I had a hard time focusing on the movie. His hand rested on my knee, tracing lazy patterns around the kneecap. I knew he did it without thinking, but it made it harder for me to breathe.

A timer went off in another part of the house. Brock's mother stood, and his hand vanished from my leg. I took the opportunity to take a proper breath.

From the kitchen, her voice carried to the living room. "We'll be able to eat in a few minutes!"

"Thank you, darling!" Mr. Ruskin turned to Brock and me. "We weren't expecting you two home for at least another couple hours. Dinner won't be until six. It's not even noon."

"We had nothing else to do," Brock said, head still resting on my shoulder. He sighed. "I think it's nice to stay home for a change."

A quiet chuckle came from his father. "Don't feel like you need to hang out with us if you don't want to. You two are more than welcome to go downstairs. Just, no fooling around." He winked, and more heat rushed to my face.