The Last Sister (Columbia River)(22)

He moved to the debris pile and kicked at an old roofing tile. “I hate this place,” he said. “I don’t like what it represents. Your life turned upside down that day.”

“It did.” As if I’m not fully aware. An acidic taste of anger filled her mouth.

He looked back at her, his eyes dark. “I worry about you.”

She controlled her shiver. “I’m fine. I like the quiet here.”

“You can find quiet in a place where your dad was murdered and your house burned down?”

Jerk. He’d said it deliberately, wanting to twist the knife in her heart under the guise of concern.

“It’s true.” Keep answers short.

“Your whole life went down a new path. Your sister left and then your mom died.”

He sank the knife to its hilt.

She silently counted as she inhaled and exhaled, pacing her breaths, keeping her calm.

“I assume you still haven’t heard from Tara.” He turned back to the house as he spoke.

“No. Have you looked for her?”

At the police station, Brett had access to search tools that the average citizen did not. But during their marriage, she’d never asked him to look. They’d rarely talked about Tara.

He and Tara had dated for several months during her senior year, breaking up only weeks before their father was murdered.

“No, I’ve never looked for her,” he said. “It’s none of my business. She broke up with me, remember? And she always talked about getting out of this shit town. She had her eyes on bigger things, so I’m not surprised she left us all behind.” He shrugged.

Emily didn’t believe that. Brett didn’t like that Tara had left without a backward glance at him. His insecurity kept him from understanding how that could happen to him.

She suspected he’d searched for her and failed.

But his ego wouldn’t allow him to admit it.

“Madison has researched extensively,” Emily stated, watching him. She’d learned to read him as carefully as he read her. During the last months of their marriage, they’d tentatively circled each other, each constantly guessing what the other was thinking, their verbal communication in the toilet. All trust gone.

“Oh. Good for her. Nothing, though?”

He’s too casual. He wants to know.

Does he still want her after all these years?

Emily was always second. Second sister. Second choice.

Deep down she’d known he didn’t love her enough—she was just another infatuated woman to bolster his insecurity—but she had chosen to ignore it. Instead she’d naively hoped to replace Tara in Brett’s heart.

Later she’d realized he didn’t hold Tara in his heart; he just couldn’t accept that she had dumped him. It turned into an obsession.

“Madison hasn’t found her. She thinks Tara changed her name.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.” He turned back to her, his gaze probing. “Want to get a cup of coffee?”

She stiffened. Nothing would be more uncomfortable. “No, I need to get back to the diner.”

“Okay. I’ll follow you out.”

Like hell you will. “Go ahead. I’m going to spend a few more minutes here. Memories, you know,” she said, scrambling for a reason to make him leave.

He studied her for a moment.

He was still attractive. Her brain recognized it even if her heart screamed for her to get away.

“Emily . . . we weren’t that bad together, were we?” He sounded apprehensive, but curious.

She couldn’t speak. Had time erased everything she’d explained to him?

His insecurity had turned her into a shadow of the independent woman she’d been. It’d taken over a year for her to find her confidence again.

“It’s been five years, Brett. I’m not going to start this discussion again. We said everything that needs to be said.”

He frowned. “I know, but—”

“No buts. Why waste time examining something that is long over?”

“But when we’re together—like now—it feels—”

“Wrong. It feels very, very wrong.” She glared, her eyes begging him to stop.

The corners of his lips sagged, and his brows came together, sending mild panic up her spine. Emily knew the signs. He was preparing to argue his point until she simply gave in, exhausted.

But they weren’t married anymore.

“Go home, Brett.” She turned away and raised one hand in farewell, hoping he’d take the hint. Not waiting to find out, she headed toward the tree line, passing through what used to be the backyard of the home. She walked blindly, her hearing attuned to the sound of his car door.

Relief swamped her as his door finally opened and closed. A moment later the engine started.

Thank you, God.

She hadn’t spoken to him in months. What on earth had prompted him to attempt a possible reconciliation today? Short-term memory loss?

Occasionally she’d see him drive through town—he still lived in Bartonville. She hated that her heart seized every time she saw an Astoria police SUV, and her head turned to see if it was him.

Their breakup had been ugly.

She slammed to a stop, and Brett vanished from her thoughts as she stared at the short tree trunk.