I'll Protect You

Ch. 2 -- Introducing Logan Cross

Right as I finished securing the dark auburn wig over my head, the strong scent of cheese oozed into my room. 

Something was wrong. 

I poked my head outside of my room and sniffed the air, where the smell of salt, cheese, and butter was practically engulfing. From my bedroom, I could see straight into the small kitchen that was separated from the living room by a bar counter. Behind that counter, donning a bright red-and-white pinstriped apron, was Prince William Sparrow. 

Where did he get that apron? It didn't belong to Elijah or me. 

In the living room sat Elijah on his leather armchair. My father was singing along to the music playing from the Bluetooth speaker on the counter, passionately miming some of Taylor Swift's lyrics. 

When he whirled around, his face brightened at the sight of me. "Park!" he sang. He dropped the metal ladle back into the pot behind him and then beelined towards me to, pulling me into a tight hug. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, stroking some of the red strands of my wig behind my ear. "I made you two breakfast. I figured you would be a little worn-out from your red-eye flight back last night."

He gestured for me to take a seat at the little square table shoved against the wall by the counter. "You know," my father said, taking my shoulders and giving me a light push forward when I didn't move, "the flight you shouldn't have even been on."

When I collapsed in my seat, my father snapped his fingers at Elijah and pointed towards the chair across from me. Breakfast was not a choice today.

Once Elijah was seated too, my father served two steaming bowls of broccoli cheddar soup, complete with a plate of sliced baguettes in between us. This was the only meal my father knew how to make. Not eggs. Not toast (something he burnt on every try--don't ask me how). Broccoli cheddar soup. 

"Did you have a nice flight, Father?" I asked. 

"What were you thinking, Elijah?!" 

My father's cheery demeanor vanished. He spun the last wooden chair around and straddled the seat, his arms placed atop the chair while he glared at my cousin. "You put her at risk!"

"What was I supposed to do?" Elijah asked, his mouth already stuffed with cheddar-dipped bread. "Leave her here by herself?"

"Yes!"

"I would've missed out on the convention!"

"Isn't the safety of your little cousin more important?"

"Hey." Elijah jabbed the spoon in my father's direction. "For the twentieth time, I did not ask to take care of Park, alright? You and Grandmother dumped her on my doorstep like she was a little orphaned wizard boy."

"Don't sound so happy about me being with you," I muttered. 

"Park, eat your soup," my father cut in. "She wasn't supposed to leave Paradise. Now, news of her being in the states is all over television. Whoever orchestrated that attack in New York took advantage of the situation and sent her image to all the major news channels. Not only is she back in danger, she's in danger here! Where there's no guards whatsoever!"

A moment of silence followed my father's tirade. Elijah set the spoon face down on the table and bowed his head. There was no hair gel in place yet, so the long curly black strands of his hair fell down to cover various angers of his face. Then, he nodded ever so slightly and looked up, winking at me before turning to my father. 

"You're right, Uncle. I apologize. I just . . . I just felt bad for her! She's been stuck in this god-forsaken town for almost three years now. Growing up, we all had the culture of Cimeria and Europe at our fingertips, but Park is trapped here. With no friends. No social life.