I've been lying awake for hours now. 

Abby's sleeping sound right next to me, with her back to me. She'd fallen asleep tangled in me but had moved in the middle of the night and weirdly, I was thankful.

The last thing I wanted was to be cuddled with her after the big fight we had last night.

I was eager to spend Friday night with her after being scarred for life by my parents. I left before dinner and spent the night at her house. My happy mood soured quickly when she kept ignoring me.

Her friends kept calling her and insisting for her to go with them to a party.

Now, I don't mind her going to parties but she knew I was coming and I wanted to just spend time with her after being away for two weeks. The last thing I wanted was to go to a fucking party.

It's safe to say she threw a tantrum and we had to go to the fucking party. Then out of her mind insisted we couldn't go back to mine.

Well, I didn't budge. 

I've seen as much of my family as I've seen of her, so sue me for wanting to spend time with both.

I had planned to spend the night just with her and the day with everyone.

But once again, if things are not Abby's way. They're not, at all.

Not this time.

Suddenly, the barf of someone throwing up sounds from the corridor.

I stand up as carefully as  I can, not to wake Abby and see what's going on. 

Is dad sick? No, it was too soft to be his. Maye Jeremy or Wilder got something. 

The sound gets stronger as I get closer to my parent's room and as I enter and head for the bathroom, the sight before me baffles me. I was expecting to find my mom holding a puking Jeremy or Wilder. 

Either one or even both since they're often sick at the same time for sticking together. 

But no, my mom's doubled over the toilet, clutching the lid hard with one hand and the other holding her long brown hair. I rush to her, automatically holding it for her and massaging her back in slow circles as she empties her stomach's contents all out.

"Was it another nightmare?" I ask.

It's dreaded information but I still want to know what's bothering her to this extent. 

"No, I- Yes," she hesitates before settling on an answer. 

That's enough to tell me that the nightmare might not be the only cause for this.

"What's wrong mom? Want me to call dad?" 

I reach for my phone but she stops me by grabbing my wrist.

"He's in surgery. He called an hour ago, letting me know that an emergency surgery came as he was about to finish his shift. You know how he is with work,  but he'll be home by lunch, let's not bother him." 

"Well, I am sure he'd want to know if you were sick," I argue.

"I don't think I'm sick, Dylan. I am going to wait for him to be sure but since he's not here yet and you're worried, I might as well tell you my suspicions. You're grown-up enough to know it," her mouth presses into a thin line, making me worried.

"What's wrong mom?" I ask, placing a loose strand of her hair, behind her ear. 

"I think, I might be pregnant again." She gives me a shy smile. 

Pregnant. 

A baby.

I am going to be a big brother, again. 

A smile break through my mouth and I hug her tight to me. She hugs me back just as tight and I don't know for how long we stay that way. But we do, for a long time. Hugs with mom have always been the best. The safe pace I'd find whenever I felt like I needed and I know it is the same way for her too.

"Is that why dad's been kicked to the couch again? Is the pregnancy triggering nightmares just like the other two?" I can't help but asks.

"I am not sure, but I think so." 

"Well, the good thing is dad's going to be ecstatic and that'll allow you to be worried about something else other than me being away," I crack a cheeky smile.

She slaps my arm and hugs me again.

"I'll not worry about you. You're my baby boy, whether you're eight, eighteen or eighty." 

"I know that secretly, I've always been your favourite," I whisper, making her laugh.

It's still shaky, probably from the emotion, but I can tell already that she's feeling better. Whether it was because of our magically healing hugs or because she got her suspicions out of her chest, she already looks better. 

I help her stand, and we both walk to the desert corridor. It's still early and there's no way Uncle Jake will wake up early on a weekend, especially when sharing a room with Jeremy. Somehow, they look closer in mental age than everyone else in this house. 

It's like he never grew up, or so mom says.

"Okay, we'll need to set some boundaries mom. I've read it makes women horny and I am not willing to walk in on you and dad again. So please, I'll warn you every time I come home so it never happens again, please. Otherwise, I'll be forever traumatized." 

"Oh my god," she whines. 

Covering her face with her hands, mom stalks downstairs while I laugh while walking back to the bedroom. 

Inside, I find a frowning Abby sitting in my bed. Again, already dressed and ready to perfection, as she always likes to be.

"What's wrong?" I can't help but ask.

"Why the hell were you talking with your mom about sex?" She asks.

What?

Was she eavesdropping? 

"Well, just in case you didn't know," I say a little bit salty at her attitude. "I can talk with my mom about whatever I see fit." 

Her mouth hangs open and she clutches her chest, probably feeling offended by my tone.

 "And I just found out she was pregnant again, and since I've walked in on my parents doing the nasty when I got here- just like I told you yesterday but you didn't listen to me -, I was asking her for it not to happen again." 

"That's gross," she mutters.

"I know, the last thing a kid wants is to see their parents doing it," I shiver at the memory.

"Isn't she too old to be pregnant anyway? Isn't she what, forty?" 

I stand upright in a flash.

"Excuse me?" 

"I mean, aren't you and your brothers enough? Why the hell do they need a fourth child?" 

"I am sure it wasn't planned," I explain. "And if it happened, why the hell wouldn't they let it come? They can afford to have another child, as far as I'm aware of." 

"Still. It's weird, you're eighteen. You'll be eighteen years older than this new baby." 

"Yeah, and? You know damn well I came too early," I answer, still not wanting to go into much detail.

Abby doesn't know the entire story, even though she's always been around. It's not my story to tell and I've never felt compelled to.

"Yeah, still. I think she shouldn't have it," she comments.

"Well, it's not your decision to make," I counter, defensive.

"No need to have your panties in a twist, Jesus. Nobody can say anything against your dear momma, you're always so damn defensive about her, it's annoying!"

"Well, you've known me all my life and should know better than to say such things about my mom if you know how worked up I get," I argue back.

She stands up hastily with a huff and starts to gather her stuff.

Great, she's sulking.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Going home," she sniffles and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

I didn't even yell this time.

"Abby..." 

"No," she turns to me. "If your mommy is so precious to you, why don't you date her instead?" 

What the...

"Where the fuck is this coming from? Are you even hearing yourself? It's my fucking mom, that's disgusting." 

"I can't keep competing with everyone else Dylan." 

Her voice is shaking now, and I know she's fighting the urge to cry. 

Of course, she expects me to have her as the centre of everything. 

I do love her, but hell, I won't distance myself from my family nor quit my dreams for her. I wouldn't want her to do that for me, and I want her to be supportive of me just as I am of her.

"You're not competing with anyone or anything else Abby, what the fuck. I am not your parents, but you can't keep wanting me to put you in front of everything else when you don't even do the same for me." 

"What the hell are you on about? I am here alone all week, waiting for you to come home on the weekends. I have weeks by myself, missing you and waiting for a stupid call or text that rarely comes."

"Yeah, and I arrive here on the fucking weekend to put up with your shallow friends at a stupid party instead of spending quality time with you!" 

"You can't expect me to stop my life for you when you are not willing to do the same for me!" Her voice rises, stunning me to silence.

This is a never-ending cycle.

I get that she misses me but I can't put myself in her shows.

She was never interested in a particular career, she has always been drilled into receiving her father's company when it was time. But since her parents split, they've let her do as she wishes to compensate for the fact that they're not there for her.

She has developed abandonment issues but she should know by now that I am not her parents and I am not abandoning her for going to college. 

"It doesn't matter what I say, you're so set into your view that I don't love you that you wouldn't even believe me if I spelt it out for you," I mutter, exhausted.

"It's what you make it seem. You know I am all alone in that big house all the time, and not even you care enough about me being abandoned there."

Her eyes well up in tears and somehow it no longer makes me sympathise with her, it annoys me

"I asked you to come with me to Lisbon," I grit out.

"It would be the same shit all over again," she yells. "You out in school while I'd be closed up in the house waiting for you to come home!" 

"Then I don't know what the fuck I can do to make you happy because it seems that it doesn't matter which way I go about it is not enough for you! I am pursuing my dreams and instead of being happy for me you're making me feel miserable for fighting for what I want to do!" 

"It's not even something you need to go to school for! You could paint and work on something else!" 

"That's not what I want to do with my life, I want to be a painter, to build a career." 

"That's not even a fucking profession," she screeches.

"Get out!" I yell.

"What?" she whispers.

"If you don't leave, I will," I warn.

She looks at me dumbfounded, not moving a muscle.

Sure, I've yelled before but never did I tell her to get out of my house. Not even waiting to stay and see if she speaks, I grab my phone and stomp out of the bedroom.

Downstairs, I only glance at my mom for a second and as soon as I see her worried look, I turn around, grabbing the car keys and exiting the house. 

A drive to nowhere, in particular, has never been so appealing before in my life.

⛓️ A u t h o r ' s N o t e ⛓️

Well... that's not much I can say about this chapter other than WILLOW'S OFFICIALLY ON BABY NUMBER FOUR MUAHAHAHA

Hope you enjoyed it, and please leave your opinions I love reading your comments!