One Last Time (COMPLETED)

Never Really Over

There should have been a sense of relief having finally brought justice to light for my sister. Instead I laid in bed for the next three days straight, not budging aside from tending to the twins. Parker tried to bring me back, but it was as if I'd fallen straight into a depression and I couldn't shake it. On the fourth day, when Tanner finally stepped through the door, I'd just showered and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Parker, sitting on the floor with Mickey as she and Max tried their hardest at Tummy Time, offered a nod in his best friend's direction, but didn't say anything. I thought about saying something, even if it was a mumbled mess of nothingness, but couldn't find my voice.

"I told you I'd be fine." Tanner whispered as he approached, pulling me into him. "I can't say the same about the station. Mom raised hell."

"I would have been surprised if she hadn't." Parker joked, but his concerned gaze stayed glued to me.

Tanner, realizing I wasn't in a joking mood, pulled away and brushed his finger under my chin and forced it up so I was staring up at him. "What's wrong?"

"What isn't?" the first two words in close to a weak were hoarse and sent a pain down my throat.

His shoulders slumped forward slightly as he tried to muster up a comforting response.

"I don't know what to say." He eventually forced out, the pity in his eyes shutting out every other emotion. I averted my gaze to the kids on the floor, a sob rising in my throat when I found Michaela's holding her head up and staring directly at me. It was almost as if, even for a fraction of a second, my sister was looking at me. Assuring me it was going to be okay. Not even a minute after, she lowered her head back down and started to kick her feet and whine. Joining Parker on the ground, I picked her up and held her against me, kissing her cheek as she soothed herself. When I forced my eyes from the ground again, I was met with two sad, guilt ridden expressions.

**

The ability to be able to leave the apartment without fearing being stalked or attacked was a breath of fresh air. I'd been a while before I had been able to step foot outside of the building without one of the boys accompanying me. Now, strolling down the sidewalk of the park a few blocks away, I looked to the kids in front of me. Max was giggling and laughing at the monkey that was hanging from the top of his stroller, but Mickey was quiet, taking in the new scenery with wide, curious eyes. Her colic had started to mellow out, and she spent a majority of her time awake just taking everything in quietly; I suppose we had that in common.

"Hey, Foster." the quiet rasp stirred me out of my thoughts and brought me back to reality. When I looked up from the kids, I found Nixon leaning against a post, stomping out what I assume was a cigarette, before he started toward us.

"I didn't think you were going to show." I responded honestly, not in any mood to beat around the bush. He offered a small, lopsided smile at that, then walked around the double stroller so he could see the kids faces. I heard his breath hitch momentarily, then he shook his head and looked back at me.

"They're so big now." he said a little breathless. "That night. . . they couldn't even keep their eyes open."

A smile touched at my lips. "That's what happens with kids, Nixon. They grow."

"Can I. . . can I hold them?"

There was a part of me that wanted to deny the privilege. My sister had kept that she was pregnant from him until last minute for a reason, but at this point, I wasn't sure my sister was as innocent in all of this as I once had. Because Parker had been right; she was drama, and it seemed to follow her everywhere. The twins were as much his as they were my sisters, and until he proved unfit, he had as much of a right to them as anyone.