PHONE SWAP | drew starkey

24: WHEREVER YOU GO NEXT

When her phone buzzes, it's Drew's name flashing on the screen, alongside a photo attachment. Addie chuckles to herself—it could be literally anything—and goes back to writing the email for Wes and Raiden, attaching the files Holden had her look over. By the time she's finished, Drew's sent about a dozen more messages.

  Addie opens them to be met with a blond toddler, grinning at the camera while sitting on a tractor big enough to make him seem like an ant. He's got Drew's excited grin: slightly lopsided and a little mischievous. It's a cute photo, and Addie would've told him so, if she didn't have another two dozen photos to look through. They're all of Drew, from a toddler to a teenager, sometimes with other kids or family members. He accompanies each with context ('I was sixteen and my parents knew I'd drink in high school so they got me drunk home first and I didn't know they took photos until this morning') and Addie finds herself laughing as she keeps going.

  It's cute. It's funny. It's weird, too, because Addie realises she's struggling to accept that this little boy sitting in a tractor is Drew. She always just kind of pictured him at his current age, and anything else felt surreal.

  So that's what she texts him: 'I know this is proof you were a kid once but I still don't believe it'

  Her dad knocks on her door a few moments later, leaning on the doorframe with his head tilted and a playful smile on his lips, even if his hands are crossed on his chest. 'Don't you think you should put work aside for a little while?'

  'Can't do that,' Addie says, spinning around in her chair to face him. 'Grubson Law will fall apart if I do that.'

  'Right.'

  'Yeah. I'm pretty important there.'

  'Well, I'm not surprised. You're pretty important everywhere.' Zion winks at her. 'Especially downstairs, because Donnie wants you to know that your checkers throne is, um, quaking.'

  Addie chuckles. 'Has he been practising?'

  'Well, Addison... I think today might be the day.'

  The image of Donnie getting the whole family into helping him practise for beating her one day is endearing to say the least. She's known about this for a while – Liyah has sent her photos of Fun Fridays that now include checkers as a staple. Checkers with Donnie have always been one of Addie's favourite perks of visiting her family.

  Addie smiles. 'I'm looking forward to it.'

  As her father leans against the doorframe with his arms on his chest, Addie finds the resemblance to Dwayne Johnson again. He's bigger than she's last seen him and brighter, like there's a spring to his step, even just standing like this.

  'You're looking better, Dad,' she says. 'Gym and the new job look good on you.'

  'Thanks, Chione.'

  Addie sighs at her father's insistence to use her middle name instead of her first, but there's no bite to it. The phone buzzes and she throws a glance—it's Drew—before putting it in her pocket. She's ready to go, but Zion is still standing there, looking around the room with fondness in his eyes.

  'You know,' he says, 'even though it's been years since this was really your room, whenever I walk past it, some part of me still expects to see you hunched over your desk, studying.'

  'Really? That was ages ago.'

  He shrugs. 'It's just not the same without you.'

  'Dad,' she whispers, and then she's hugging him like she's six again, terrified of going to school for the first time, with only her dad's arms to hold her. 'You're going to make me cry.'