The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(34)

Caitlin looked at her, like, really looked at her. “Are you okay?”

At that, everyone craned their necks and stared at her. Awesome. And no, she wasn’t okay. She was never okay. “I’m great. And starving.” She rolled off the bed, not so accidentally kicking Walker in the shins while she was at it.

Five minutes later she was in the kitchen, watching Caitlin working on a huge spread while everyone else showered and dressed for the day. It was shockingly impressive. The girl had been born to take care of people.

Maze was definitely missing that gene. But in spite of Cat liking to do everything herself, she stepped in to make toast.

Cat smiled. “Just like the old days. You making toast.”

“It’s the only thing you’d ever let me do.”

“Because you hate to cook.”

Maze smiled. “But I do love to eat.”

Cat smiled too and set her head on Maze’s shoulder for a beat. “I’m sorry about before. I know sometimes I sound bitchy.”

“Sometimes?”

Caitlin laughed and hugged her. “Missed this,” she whispered. “Missed you. So much.”

Maze wrapped her arms around her. “Me too.”

“Today’s going to be a busy day. Wedding errands and chores, et cetera.”

“We’ll help,” Maze said.

“Thanks.”

They pulled apart.

“Do you ever miss those days?” Cat asked. “When we were little and lived at Mom and Dad’s house and had no worries?”

Maze always had worries. But the answer was simple: “Yes.”

Her eyes fell on the two small framed pics hanging by the fridge. The first one was of Cat sitting at the lake’s edge with a laughing Michael. Maze remembered that day. She and Cat had been tasked with babysitting Michael, which had never been a task in Maze’s eyes. Playing tag with him on the edge of the water had been more fun than anything else, and she’d loved being with him. Caitlin too. Because the two of them had been so . . . normal. They had no idea what the big, bad world was like, and when she was with them, Maze could pretend she didn’t know either.

Hungry for those days, she looked closer at the pic. Cat was laughing too, looking open and happy. And carefree. Seeing it made her realize something: she hadn’t seen carefree Cat since . . . since . . . After Michael’s death, Cat had taken everything on as her personal responsibility. Making sure her parents got through losing their son. Making sure to keep in touch with Walker and Heather and Maze when they’d all been separated. She’d become Head In Charge of Everything, and as a result, carefree Cat had been buried with her brother.

Feeling an ache in her chest for all Cat had been through, Maze turned to the second pic. It was of Cat’s parents, looking vibrant and happy. “I’ve never seen that picture,” she murmured.

“It was two years ago, right before Dad’s diagnosis.”

Maze sucked in a breath. “Diagnosis?”

“Cancer. It appears to all be gone now, though. We’re holding our breath.” Caitlin pointed at her with the whisk. “You’d have heard about it from me before now if you’d asked about them even once.”

Maze cringed. “I know. I’m so sorry. It’s . . . complicated.”

“Complicated how? They loved you and doted on you all the time. Hell, my mom favored you over both me and Michael. You could do no wrong. They did everything they could for you, got you into the same classes as me, offered to help you stay in contact with your mom if you wanted, clothed and fed you, kept you safe—which you didn’t care about, I know, but my point is they cared. So much, Maze.”

Until the fire, that is, after which they’d moved on without her.

Actually, that wasn’t fair. They’d reached out to her just a few months after the fire, asking how she was. She’d responded, and a part of her had hoped it meant they’d be coming for her. But at that point, they still hadn’t had a big enough place. Maze could admit that at the time, she hadn’t understood the depths of what they’d been through. All she’d known or thought about was what she’d been through.

A few years or so later, she’d texted them, just a breezy “hi, thinking of you, hope you’re well” sort of thing. They’d responded sweetly and suggested that they meet up for lunch sometime.

Maze had stared at their response for days, before ultimately deleting the text rather than replying. She still didn’t know why exactly.

Wait. That was a lie. She did know. It was called hurt. She was still acting like that abandoned teenager.

Then she’d further screwed up at the anniversary party, the last nail in the coffin of that relationship.

“Well?” Caitlin asked.

“You don’t get it.”

“Why? Because I’m the real kid?”

“Well . . . yeah.”

Caitlin was slicing cheese now with a very big knife. “Yes,” she said stiffly. “I was the real kid who did her best to keep everyone happy. Michael too. We shared our parents, willingly, but it’s not like it was easy, Maze. I worked my ass off to always be okay and take care of everyone.”

And when Michael passed away, Cat had changed forever, something Maze was just starting to see. More guilt settled in her chest. “I never asked that of you.”