Risk (Gentry Boys #2)(67)

“This big sister’s just fine,” I told her, settling back into the bed pillows. It was dark as a cave inside my room. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”

Carrie was always happy to switch the topic of conversation back to herself. She chatted about her soccer team, poked fun at her wealthy classmates, and laughed about all the boys who chased her.

After going on for about fifteen minutes she paused. “Truly?”

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“Were you really just calling me to say hello?”

“Is that so tough to believe? Why do you ask?”

“Because I talked to Aggie recently.”

“What did she say?”

Carrie sighed. “That you guys didn’t argue, not exactly, but didn’t end up blowing kisses to each other either.” Her voice grew a little wistful. “You two were always welded together. Mia and I were nearly jealous. It was the two of you we looked to, you know. Not to Laura.”

I swallowed. “How is Mama?”

“Self pitying and messy as she ever was. She’s living in a tin box outside of Mobile. I try not to inquire.”

It was foolish of me to ask the next question. “She ever ask about me?”

My sister’s pause told me all I needed to know. “Honey, you know Laura can’t bring herself to care about a thing but who’s buyin’ her next drink and how soon she can lie down for him.” Carrie sucked in a breath. “Shit, I’m sorry, Truly.”

“It’s all right. Maybe it should be said. We’ve never talked about it but it’s true. I took a man who belonged to my own mother.”

Carrie got angry. “He was a lousy piece of filth. She should have seen that and understood what he was really after. You were just a girl.”

“I was seventeen. You’re seventeen. Would you be so weak, Carrie?” She didn’t answer so I pressed her. “Well, would you?”

“No,” she said quietly. “But I’m not going to look down my nose at you for that mistake. I’m sure I’ll make a mistake someday. You don’t owe that woman a thing. She was sick with jealousy from the time you could fill a bra. She can’t call herself a mother, not as far as I’m concerned. Don’t go wasting any more pain on her. I get the feeling you’ve suffered quite enough already, Tallulah.”

A tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t easily describe what it meant to have another person understand the guilt and loneliness of my past four years. But apparently my willful, beautiful little sister had realized it somehow. The fact was almost too much.

“Miss you, kiddo,” I whispered.

“Miss you too,” she whispered back. Carrie cleared her throat. “Honey, I’ve gotta get to class now but don’t go so long between phone calls. And Tru? Don’t give up tryin’ to reach Augusta. That girl’s not so tough as she seems.”

I was sorry to hear her go. I could have said more to her even though Carrie had made it clear that she thought the past ought to stay where it was. She would, however, have been interested to hear about Creedence.

My hand reached out and touched the emptiness of the bed next to me. It seemed wrong that he wasn’t there. I could almost feel the strong pressure of his hands on me. Creed was at turns both grumpy and soulful, with a head full of demons he couldn’t quite part with. He was also sincere, genuine, and unbearably beautiful.

And tomorrow night there was a real possibility I might lose him forever.

All these dark new thoughts were making me feel poorly enough but when I glanced down at my phone my breath caught. The date had crept up on me. I’d known it was there; it was always there, hanging over me like a thundercloud. But usually I managed to brace myself before the rains began.

Even though I knew sleep was no longer possible, I pulled the covers over my body anyway. My hands went to my stomach, as they always did. I shut my eyes and remembered the things I made myself forget every other day of the year. The physical pain was easy to conjure. The emotion agony nearly flattened me.

When I finally pulled the covers away and prepared to face the day the sun was out. I felt as if I’d been alone behind the door of my bedroom for a year.

“Hey,” said Stephanie from the living room couch. She had her book in her hand and my cat in her lap.

“You’re up early,” I muttered, heading into the kitchen.

Stephanie followed. “Were you crying?”

“No.”

“Is it the ogre?”

“No.”

Steph leaned against the stove. She gave a short laugh and bent her head forward, her shaggy blonde curls falling over her face. “What a shitty pair we are, huh?”

“A matched set,” I agreed.

After showering, scrubbing the stove and cleaning out the kitty litter box I couldn’t stay boxed inside the apartment anymore. Stephanie was still sitting on the couch in her pajamas, reading The Hobbit. She looked comfortable, more at ease than I’d ever seen her. She merely nodded when I said I needed to get out for a while.

Once I was in my car and sweating through the Tempe traffic I thought about showing up for work. Even though it was generous of Ed to give me the time off, I couldn’t really afford the financial hit. In the end though I just couldn’t face the smell of cooking grease and the monotony of cheerful serving.