Isolation: Book 2 of The Quarantine Series Read online

  1) I have been calling and texting Reid non-stop. I was devastated the last time we were separated, but I can’t afford the same luxury. Tessa needs me. My parents are broke. Mia needs me. This is not the time to lose my shit. I can’t let them down by letting him into my every thought. I have to move forward.

  2) I am taking Alexa up on her offer for a partnership. Alexa’s capital will be enough to start making and selling custom-made clothing. In exchange, she will get a percentage of the royalty for each dress I sell. She has connections to old money, so I will basically be making custom clothing for a plethora of her rich friends.

  3) I have to compartmentalize away everything that has happened with Milo thus far to focus on a civil friendship.

  “Hey, Rave. What are you working on?”

  My eyes flip up to meet a pair of emerald orbs. Milo walks into the room and struts over to my bed. I am sitting cross-legged on the bed, drawing on my sketchbook.

  “Hey. Nothing serious. Just a piece I have been drawing.”

  Milo nonchalantly plops down on the bed and grabs one of my pillows to hug it. Everyone comments on how the years of traveling have made Milo detached. But lately, I have noticed his mellow and cheerful attitude, which is extremely refreshing on him.

  “Actually,” I turn to him, “I meant to ask you. Can I use the study to make the dresses I sell? I noticed that my old mannequin, sewing machines, and supplies are still stored there.”

  “Rave,” Milo tilts his head in surprise, “this is your home. You don’t have to ask me.”

  He is right. Why did I ever forget that? This is my home. It's the only home I have ever known.

  Milo peeks into my drawing book to point at my sketch. “That’s really cool. What is it?”

  I look down at the dress I am drawing. “I don’t wanna bore you.”

  “I am not bored. I asked because I find your work interesting. I’d like to invest in it someday if you’d accept my money.”

  This has been an argument for days. Milo wants me to accept his money, even though I have already accepted an offer from Alexa. But I don’t want to argue. I am exhausted from yet another sleepless night.

  “I have always wanted to make a reversible dress. I just don’t know how to go about it. Each side of the dress has to be comfortable enough to feel good on the skin, but it also has to be glamorous enough to wear on the outside.”

  Milo chuckles. “So, sort of like you?”

  “What do you mean?” I engage in the discussion.

  “What do you mean by what do I mean? You are glamorous and comfortable. You wear red bottom heels and Theressa Beckett Specials. Then you come home and strip down to three-dollar shorts and two-dollar tank tops,” Milo jests as he pulls at the strap of my tank top.

  “My tank top cost five dollars, thank you very much,” I deadpan.

  Milo laughs again, a deep but light-hearted laugh this time. My own lips curve up at his laugh.

  I haven’t heard him laugh that genuinely in years. It’s almost nostalgic, flooding my mind with memories of my childhood.

  Milo actively deprives the world of his laughter because he has too much sand in his vagina. With him, it’s usually so much brooding and impatience.

  But not today. Today he is laughing and he looks so damn sexy while doing so.

  Interesting turn of thoughts...

  Where did that come from? I haven't had a thought like that in years.

  Am I experiencing Stockholm syndrome, or is Milo really that sexy?

  I wish there was a scale to measure this.

  Ma’am, here is your captivity vs. attraction report. It indicates that your assailant is good looking. I repeat, your assailant is very attractive, and you are not experiencing said syndrome.

  I laugh in my own head, and Milo gives me a look. He hates it when I get lost in my head.

  Instead of asking me what I am thinking, he tries to pull me out of it like he always does.

  “Okay, big spender. How are you going to afford making that dress when you are spending all of five dollars on a tank top?”

  “I plan to rob you while you sleep and then make a run for it.” I keep my eyes trained on my sketchbook, but I can’t help the smirk that breaks out on my face.

  “You mean you are going to make a limp for it with that crippled leg of yours?” Milo pokes at my leg.

  We look at each other for a beat and then burst out laughing. It’s not an awkward laugh but a belly aching “haha” laugh. It’s been forever since we have laughed like this.

  “I’ll slow you down before making a limp for it,” I sass back. “Maybe I’ll knee you in the nuts before I rob you.”

  “Ouch,” Milo fakes being in pain as he covers his crotch with both hands. “Such vile thoughts from such a respectable young lady.”

  “I am no lady. I am depraved.”

  “No, you are cute.”

  “Shut up,” I quip.

  Milo quirks an eyebrow and pauses. “Okay, vigilante, if you are done with your crime spree for the day, should we order some lunch? I am starving.”

  “Sure, I could eat.”

  Milo looks at me quizzically.

  “What?” My eyes are still on my sketchbook, but from my peripheral vision I am aware of his stare.

  “You are being so agreeable. This is the first time you so easily agreed to have a meal with me.”

  “Want me to be disagreeable? Fine. Go choke on a dick, Milo.”

  Milo chuckles; this time it’s an even deeper laugh. “It’s just eerie, that’s all.”

  “Don’t get used to it then.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. I don’t want you to have the luxury of eating regularly and getting fat.”

  My brows shoot up to my forehead, but a smile still tugs at my lips. “Are you body-shaming me? Does that mean you’ll restrict my food order? Tell me that you will at least spend five dollars on me for lunch.”

  Milo grins from ear to ear. “I can’t afford all of five dollars. I’ll let you order from the dollar menu. You can work your way up to the five-dollar meal status.”

  “I don’t deserve such extravagance,” I say sarcastically.

  “Nothing but the best for you.” He quickly reaches over to give me a peck on the cheek.

  “Ugh!” I give him a dirty look and wipe the kiss away, which just makes him smile even more. I dig the sharp end of my pencil tip in my thigh in order to jolt myself awake. Even with an Ambien, I couldn’t sleep more than two hours last night.

  I stare at Milo as he calls the restaurant to put in our food order, a feast fit for a king.

  Milo is happy. Chipper. Sweet. Jesting. Milo is being fun and funny. By everyone’s account, these are characteristics Milo hasn’t displayed in years.

  So, whatever the hell happened to this man, this man in front of me right now?

  Milo told me that I sucked the soul out of him. Is that my lasting effect?

  If our paths never crossed, could Milo have continued to be this person, without all of the other darkness that consumed him?

  I guess the same could be said about me. I would have been a different person if our paths never crossed. One action: Theressa leaving us and moving to Europe. That’s all it took.

  That one action started a chain reaction that haunts all of us till today. That one action led to our paths crossing, and it changed us both.

  I quickly turn to a new page in my sketchbook and start drawing Milo. I want to preserve this man, as he is, in front of me. It’s been so long since I have seen this side of him.

  I work quickly to try to hold on and conserve him as he is right now. I have to be fast before he can morph into the other man that I don’t recognize.

  April 1st, 2020

  -----------

  Milo

  Raven has been working nonstop for the last couple of days. She has turned the study into a design studio, getting ready to showcase outfits for the website her and Alexa are launching for their new partnership.

  Since everyone in the household eats separately, I have turned it into a habit to eat every meal with Raven, most of the time in the study. I also sneak in coffee breaks in between meals.

  It’s insane to think that Raven stayed away for years when being only a few hours away from her is now impossible for me to tolerate.

  I thought my obsession had already skyrocketed to its peak. Come to find out; it’s growing at an even more accelerated rate than ever before.

  I can’t even slow it down.

  I have this need to consume her. To be constantly around her. There is an incessant craving inside me to rule every one of her thoughts.

  I want to lock her up so she can’t even talk to anyone but me. I want to be the first thing she thinks of and the last thing she dreams about.

  She invokes an insanity and passion that is not elicited in any other aspect of my life. My work. My family. My success. None of it is as thought-provoking or profound as her.

  But despite my obsession having reached a new height, I am forcing myself to let her finish her work.

  She looked frazzled during our lunch today. Apparently, she is behind schedule for the photos her and Alexa plan to take for their website and Instagram.

  So, I haven’t barged in on her or seen her in the last seven hours. But who’s counting?

  Finally, at nine p.m., I mosey into the study and drop the large carryout bag on top of the wooden table. Raven is on the floor, putting pins on a mannequin.

  In the last few weeks, her jet-black hair has grown and is hanging around her face. Her pale skin looks flushed from her current efforts. And her red lips are too fucking inviting.

  I inhale sharply when Raven looks up at me. Fuck. Is there no end to this madness? She is so fucking tempting. Even in this poorly lit room and a five-dollar tank top, she looks edible.

  How does she manage to do this to me? I am nothing but her puppet, and she is the master puppeteer, pulling at all of my heartstrings.

  “Hi. We are eating,” I announce even though she is the only thing I want to eat right now.

  “We are?” Raven squints her eyes.

  “Rave, it’s almost nine p.m.” And I need contact with you right fucking now.

  Raven gapes at that information. She doesn’t argue as she peels herself off the floor to stretch.

  She plops down on her chair as I take out the sandwiches. I sit across from her in my usual chair, when I feel something poking me, so I jump back up.

  “What the fuck! Is that a roach?”

  I lean in closer to inspect and find a rubber cockroach on my seat.

  “April Fools!” Raven smirks.

  I give her the stink eye and throw the rubber roach in the trash can.

  “Very mature.” I suppress a smile.

  Mia and Raven loved practical jokes when they were young. One year they replaced my toothpaste with shaving cream. I got them back by donating a good chunk of their clothes to the Salvation Army.

  Raven can do much better than this.

  “That I am!”

  “I expected more from you, Rave. This wasn’t even funny.”

  “Well, I laughed when you jumped,” she grins. “And I didn’t have much time to prepare given my new hectic schedule. Next year,” Raven points her index finger at me.

  Next year?

  “Is this what you were teaching my little sister while she was visiting you in Paris?” I divert the topic, but my mind is racing behind her words—next year.

  “No,” Raven responds casually. “I was teaching her how to pick up men.”

  “You are not allowed to be around Mia anymore without proper adult supervision.” I give her a stern look, which Raven returns by flashing all of her teeth at me.

  We dig into our food, but my eyes stay trained on her. Raven has never referred to the future before, adamant that this is all temporary. But now...

  Next. Fucking. Year.

  CHAPTER 6

  -----------

  Raven

  After I completed some work-related tasks, I decided to give Uncle Reese a break and take over Tessa duty. I have been sitting by her bed with a tray of food for two hours, but I finally realize that it’s futile.

  I close the door to her room and walk out with the tray of untouched food, only to bump into Milo in the hallway. It’s late, dark, and his silhouette nearly gives me a heart attack.

  “Jesus Christ,” I grab my pounding heart with my right hand as Milo grabs the tray that I nearly drop. “You scared the shit out of me. Bell. Around your neck. Look into it.”

  Instead of responding, Milo looks around for a place to put down the tray.

  He looks through my open bedroom door and marches inside to presumably put the tray down.

  Milo is being unusually quiet. I follow him inside but stop in my tracks as soon as I take in the room.

  “Whoa, what happened here?”

  Milo settles the tray on my desk table while I look around. My carpet has been replaced with hardwood floors. There is a beautiful rug in the middle of the room. When did he do all of this?

  Milo absentmindedly looks around.

  “I recruited Brandon and the dads to help me tear out your old carpet, and install hardwood floors. With a four-person crew, we were able to finish while you were working in the study. The rug was just an easy online order.”

  “You know how to install hardwood floors?” I ask in astonishment.

  He shrugs. “I have always been handy around the house.”

  I knew that. He re-did Mia’s room all by himself.

  “It looks beautiful. Thank you.”

  Milo stares at the uneaten tray of food instead of responding.

  Recently, Milo has become the only person I speak to on a daily basis. What started off as an understanding over Tessa and our current situation, has morphed into genuine camaraderie.

  We have been helping each other with Tessa related issues, along with keeping up with household duties and chores.

  Now we eat every meal together despite Milo’s grueling schedule. I have been around him enough to pick up on his new mood shifts, regardless of his poker face. Right now, something is definitely off.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

  “Tessa,” he responds quietly. “Mia found her with a bottle of pills earlier today.”

  “Sleeping pills?” I audibly gasp.

  Milo nods and my eyes widen in horror.

  Tessa tried this once before. She was exhausted by her recovery process and lost her will power.

  I didn’t realize things had escalated to this degree in only a couples of weeks.

  “Did she—”

  “When Mia walked in, Tessa had the bottle in her hand. She was just staring at it,” Milo runs both hands through his hair. “Fuck! Mia shouldn’t have to see that.”

  “Does she have to be admitted again?” I force myself to ask the question neither of us wants to answer.

  Milo shakes his head. “She doesn’t want to go back, and I don’t want to force her.”

  I nod. Tessa was institutionalized after her last attempt. The place was awful, and it smelled like death.

  She was miserable and horrified. It might be recommended by doctors, but I am against sending her back there as well. Then again, I am biased towards this specific topic.

  “What happens now?” I ask in a small voice.

  “I truly don’t know.”

  Milo never sounds unsure. He always has a plan; he always knows what happens next. I believed everything would be okay because he believed it. We have all been following his confident cues, expecting him to have the answers.

  The expectation for me to lessen the burden of others.

  That’s his truth. As far as this household is concerned, the weight of the world has always been on one person’s shoulders. My heart squeezes in my chest at that very reminder.

  I step forward and wrap my arms around his neck. Milo stiffens in shock for a moment but immediately pulls me closer. He holds me so close that I can hear his rapid heartbeat.

  “I am sorry,” I rasp out. “I am so sorry.”

  He doesn’t respond. We stay locked in for a few minutes. When I feel Milo moving his head, I release my hands around his neck.

  Instead of stepping back, Milo presses a kiss on my neck and inhales deeply. His chest rises and falls heavily, his sporadic breathing fanning my skin.

  I tense.