A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(43)

Lucy and I stare at the TV in the dim living room after she finishes the cake. She rests her head on my shoulder as the sink runs in the kitchen, my father rinsing off the plate.

“Elise,” my sister says in a low voice, barely audible over the movie. “Do you remember when Mom died?”

I tear my eyes from the television to look down at her, her face hidden from view. “Yeah?”

Lucy starts playing with a loose string in the couch blanket, twisting it around her finger. “There was that night,” she says. “The night before she died, when we laid in bed while Dad was at the hospital. Praying.”

A lump forms in my throat. “They wouldn’t let us in anymore,” I add. “It was against their policy.” It hurts to think about it, my mom in that hospital bed, unconscious. During her last week, she stopped waking up, drugs coursing through her system. They said it was better that way, but I’ve always wondered. What would she have said to us in those moments? Had we robbed her of them?

“That night,” Lucy continues, “when we were curled up and you were crying, I told you that I had a secret. Do you remember that?”

It’s a little foggy at first, but I do vaguely recall the conversation. I pull back then, looking at my sister as tears glisten in her eyes. “Lucy, what’s wrong?”

“How come you never asked?” she whispers, her voice cracking. “How come you never asked what my secret was?”

The question is so loaded with accusation and pain, I wrap my arms around my sister and pull her to me. “I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I thought you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Lucy sniffles, brushing at the back of my hair with her fingers, shuddering once as she holds back her cry. Then she straightens, touching my cheek lovingly. Like it’s the last time she’ll ever see me.

“What was it?” I ask, seeing the desperation in her eyes. “What was your secret?”

Lucy smiles sadly, tilting her head as if apologizing. “It doesn’t matter now,” she whispers. “I guess nothing ever really did.” Then she stands and goes to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

CHAPTER 19

Lucy’s comment haunts me as I lie in bed. I only vaguely remember the conversation from when we were kids, but my sister has always hidden things. Or at least, hidden her feelings. She’s told me about her boyfriends, about her friends. But our talks were always under a veil of jokes. I wonder what could be going on with Lucy. I’m scared to ask. I’m scared for her.

I fall into a restless sleep, determined to fix my life, fix my sister’s life. And I know the only person who has answers is Marceline. So after work tomorrow, I’m going to her house. And this time I won’t let a guy distract me.

When I wake up, I feel exhausted but anxious to get started. I’m working the morning shift for our after-church rush and opt out of going to my father’s service, telling him I picked up an extra shift to keep my mind off of Harlin. But that’s not true. This is my opportunity to see Marceline.

My father drops me off at Santo’s on his way to church, and when I hug him good-bye, he tells me again that he doesn’t think I should give up on Harlin. I can’t believe he’s actually hoping I get a boyfriend, and by the expression on his face, I don’t think he can believe it either. But in the end, my father just wants me to be happy. So I appreciate him going against all of his fatherly instincts for me.

The OPEN sign buzzes to life in the Santo’s window as I walk inside. I’m punching my card in the time clock when Abe clears his throat from behind me. He’s leaning in the doorway, sipping from a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” he says, smiling. It’s the first time we’ve spoken since he brought donuts the other night.

“You’re in a good mood,” I say, stopping to tie my apron around my waist. I follow Abe into the kitchen, where he pours me a cup of coffee. I thank him as I take it, even if he does make it too strong.

“Missed you last night,” he says, watching me carefully.

I pause midsip, uncomfortable at where this conversation might lead. “Did you work?” I ask, hoping to guide him to safer topics.

“I did. And it was boring and miserable. I didn’t have anyone to entertain me.” He leans close in a mock whisper. “Santo doesn’t flirt back at all.”

I laugh, remembering why I find Abe so entertaining. “Well, I’m here now,” I say. “And I plan to make at least a million dollars over the next two hours. You?”

“Million five.” Abe drains the rest of his drink. “What do you say we go out to lunch later? After all, we will be millionaires.”

My stomach flips. “Uh . . . I can’t.” I don’t dare tell him about Marceline. He’ll realize there’s something wrong with me—or at least strongly suspect I’ve lost my mind.

“Going out with your new boyfriend?” he asks, his expression curious.

I don’t respond at first, focusing my attention on the wall clock, the hand-washing sign. Anywhere but Abe. I’m too humiliated to tell him that I liked Harlin, but he didn’t feel the same way.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Abe offers. “I guess the nice thing to say is that I’m happy for you.”

I look back at him, relieved to avoid the conversation. “Thank you,” I tell him. I start toward the dining room when Abe reaches out to take my wrist.