Shift OR Drift

Amberly

Killian's eyes leave mine for that last time as he heads up the mysterious stairwell, not a soul around seems to have cared about the small transaction. My brain slowly turns into sludge after my eight shots. I am not sure. I lost count. Lexy currently has me sippin on an apple martini. Usually, I would hate the taste of the bitter drink but, at this point in time, I cannot taste it. It is simply a liquid wetting my lips. No taste. No burn. My eyes snap to Royce, curious as to what was said between him and Killian. Still unable to see a major difference between the two aside from the haircut and scrawnier build. I bite my bottom lip looking at him, studying him. He looks at me with interest. I could only guess the several reasons he has come up with in his brain of why I am staring at him with curiosity, biting my lip at the same time. His brain probably cannot process why he has my sudden interest. I let go of my lip snapping out of my stare trance. The Scott genes must be fairly strong between these two. Then again, I have not exactly met their mother either. I have not seen what she looks like. Part of me hopes I never will.

She sounds like a vile woman. Killian has never talked about her or mentioned her unless he has too. The same as I have never mentioned or talked about my mother. I even prefer not to think about mine. Who knows what she could be doing in this very instance if she is alive after all? She sure as hell is not bending over backward to find me, that is for sure. Although, I am glad she isn't. Saves me from having to play catch up or being a fake good daughter. Hell, who knows maybe I want her to see the mess of a daughter she left to live on her lonesome. I still remember the child protective services searching for her. No one found her. Another reason to believe she is dead. They would ask me over and over where is she? What is her name? If she was appropriate for taking care of me. None of which I truly knew an answer to. I don't know one thing about her, she left me. When I was in need of a parent most, she left me. Hung me out to dry like hunter's hang their gutted elk and deer carcasses. Gutted, alone, and no one able to help them anymore.

She shall never have the opportunity to meet me. Know me. Cherish me. Crave my attention. Want to make amends. She shall never get any piece of me. Even the current drunk pissed off piece I do not want her to cut up pieces of me and throw them back in my face the same way she did my father. She does not deserve the satisfaction of knowing the woman I have become without her. The person I grew into because I had no one. Never have. Never will.

I look at Royce again, looking through his deep blue eyes looking for a feature which sets him apart from his father and even Killian, something distinct which had to come from a mother. Not Trey. My eyes study his facial features moving down his arms. Back to his face. Finally, something clicks. His eyes are shaped differently, his eyes are also darker.  His fathers are more oval. His hair is a lot lighter than Killian's and Trey's. His nose is a touch smaller than Trey's but still perfectly shaped. His lips a tad less full than Killian's. A bright smile dashes across his lips, only a sign of mischief. The mischief must come from his mother as both Trey and Killian are very serious men.

"What are you staring at Peach?" Royce smiles and snakes his hand around my wrist. I shudder from the touch.

"I am trying to pick you apart and see what features you have that may resemble your mother instead of Trey," the truth fumbles from my mouth before I even realize I am saying it, "Killian never talks about her," I pry.

"Yeah. They don't have the best of relationships. She's gone, a lot," he exaggerates the words a lot, "she comes around for a few months and then disappears again. Father always accepts her. It is easy to tell she is the only person he ever truly cares about," the words flow from his lips and I cling to each of them trying to understand why Killian is how he is.

"Why does Killian hate your father so much?" I watch Royce's demeanor change. His muscles strain and anxiety coats his face.

"Nah Peach, next question," he shoves another drink in my direction not realizing my martini is already gone.