blue (book one) - h.s. ✔️ watty's 2019

chapter 95

The next day, early in the morning, Gemma came to me asking if I could babysit for her while she ran some overdue errands. Of course, I have obliged happy to help the poor girl in any way that I can. I don't know much about her time away from hone, but from the little bits Harry's mentioned it's been anything but easy. With a promise to return by noon, I handed her the key to his truck (not wanting her to have to walk to town), and prayed she'd be back before he woke up. He has so much built up animosity towards his baby sister. I can understand how devastating it must've been to hear that she hasn't been living the most holy life, but neither has he. Sure, she has a baby and everything, but it's hypocritical of him to be so hard on for many of the things he's done himself. Of course, I could never intervene in their own family matters. It's not my place to indulge in something I know nothing about.

After Gem left to run errands, I first checked up on the baby to make sure he was still sound asleep. Though many of his features are still not dark enough to tell for sure, Nolan looks remarkably like his uncle. It's a shame that Harry has so much contempt in his heart for the actions of his sister that he's unwilling to get to know the little bundle of joy. He's actually quite amazing. He's so attentive and bossy; ironically, just like his uncle.

The breakfast I'm making for Harry and I consist of a lot of eggs, pancakes, fresh fruit, oatmeal, orange juice, and a couple of strips of bacon for him. He still hasn't woken up yet. I thank God that this is, but know that he is going to have to find out about his sister sooner or later. I'd rather him have a full stomach before finding out that I let her borrow his truck for the day.

I set out each prepared food in a somewhat decent arrangement on the small dining table in the kitchen. My attention turns to the finished pot of coffee, pouring out two cups. After I'm sure that nothing else can be done in the small kitchen, I prepare the baby's formula I had to pick up at the store earlier. Gem's breast milk is not right for the small baby. She found this out right after she delivered him in the living room. It's a miracle that he's as healthy as he is considering the many complications in her pregnancy. Apparently, he stayed in the oven a little over the nine months that's considered normal for a baby, yet he's still incredibly small. Premature almost. Due to her heavy use of drugs during the three trimester, her breast milk is unsuitable for the baby. It surprises me that the baby is not addicted to anything. From what the blonde girl has told me, not once did she let up on her old habits after she found that she was pregnant. The prenatal vitamins she took were not prescribed by anyone - not even a doctor! As a matter of fact, up until the very end of her pregnancy she had not a single word of advice from a professional. It amazes me how healthy the baby turned out, and that she survived delivering just in the room next to this one.

Hitting the back of one of the bottles I bought yesterday with the palm of my hand, I drop a couple of drops on the back of my hand testing its warmth. With the glass bottle and a fresh, new diaper I head to the makeshift crib in the smallest room in the house. Upon arrival, the beautiful ball of joy is not sleeping. Instead, his tired eyes are blinking slowly up at nothing before a small yawn escapes his lips. He's so unrealistically calm. Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that he's only a month or two old; he rarely cries. Picking up the light baby with a gentle care, I place the warm rubber nipple in it's ready mouth. Latching on immediately, his little hand reaches at the bottle eagerly. He's so controlling. His bright green eyes never leave my blue one's as he guzzle the milk in the bottle. I walk around the house through the kitchen and back singing lightly to the tiny human.

I'm not too sure how Gem was feeding him before, because when we first arrived here she barely had diapers let alone enough formula to properly take care of him. Now that I think of it, that's probably why he's so small. I frequently look down at the blameless child in my hands as I walk around the old house. It's incredible that it's still here. Every picture, piece of furniture, memory lies within these four walls. As if life just paused, waiting for the broken family to make a return. Though I've seen the lot many a times now, it still amazes me of how. . . happy they all once were; a picture perfect family. Two loving parents, a young boy excelling in many sports, and a sweet, kindhearted sister cautious of everything and everyone around her. It hurts me to know that things for the Styles family will never go back to the way they once were. So much of what's wrong with the green-eyed boy lies within these walls. I think if it weren't already clear before, that I can understand  him a little more.

"It scares me of how much he looks like me," Harry's low raspy voice frightens me slightly as he sneaks up behind me. Immediately I'm embraced by his shirtless torso from behind, as he layers kisses along my neck. I turn around, breaking from his contact to look at him, still very conscious of the bundle in my arms. As usual, he got out of bed without taking care of himself. His hair is sticking up in all directions. Aside from the mint radiating from his mouth, he doesn't look he out much effort into his appearance this morning. He's shirtless, wearing only a tight pair of black briefs that leave very little to the imagination. He just doesn't like wearing clothes, I guess. I don't understand it. The ink covering his vanilla skin looks more vibrant today. As if he ran body oil all over his body.

"I made orange juice," I warn him quietly, causing his nose to wrinkle up in disgust, because of his clean mouth.

"Do we have coffee?"

Simply nodding my head, I place the now full baby in the crib closest to the kitchen before making the tall boy and myself a plate. He follows me territorially, like he always does. So curious to know what I'm doing at all times, even if we are int the same room. I place two large pancakes on both of our plates before following with the rest of the breakfast foods. He breaks away from me hungry, helping himself to the plate of food across from me. He doesn't wait for me to finish pouring his coffee before he's digging in without care.

"Slow down. You're going to choke yourself," I warn, sitting across from him, after checking on Nolan one more time.

He simply rolls his eyes at me, but does calm down his food intake slightly. I don't know how to break the news to him about his sister, but it doesn't seem like he's too aware of her existence until he realizes that there are only two, not three plates.

"Where is that one?" he gestures to an empty chair not saying her name. I scoff quietly at his rudeness, but refuse to speak on it. One thing at a time.

"She went out," I start hoping he won't ask too much and just leave it at that.

"Where?" he speaks in between bites, sipping on his coffee.

"To town."

"She walked?"

His attention is slightly on me and slightly on the now half-empty plate of food. He eats so much. I don't know where it all goes! His stomach is mostly flat with the exception of a few developing muscles.

"No," I begin, bracing myself for his reaction. He's going to find out sooner or later. There's no point in me trying to hide it from him.

"I gave her the keys to your truck."

I unintentionally close my eyes and wince slightly afraid of his response. The room falls silent, and for a second it feels like in the only one here. I slowly open my eyes to see a confused-looking Harry watching me with careful eyes. He looks slightly hurt, but doesn't say anything returning back to the plate of food in front of him. I feel bad for thinking he'd overreact and hurting him. It's just hard for me to predict how he'll react sometimes. I continue back to my food, feeling extremely awkward.

"So long as she's back before the day's over we won't have a problem."