Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
I t takes fifty-two minutes for me to get my car, go home, change, and drive to my sister’s house. My hand throbs with dull, aching pain at every movement, and it’s hard to focus on anything else when I’m alone with nothing but my questionable playlist of the day thrumming through my car’s abused speakers and the pain in my hand.
Martha had been worried, so now two large cups of coffee sit in my console, as if caffeine can cure all of my problems and not just ninety-eight percent of them. But she knows how much I love coffee and sent me on my way with enough of it to last for at least the next few hours, if I can keep my caffeine addiction at bay.
“You can do this,” I murmur, trying not to think of Scott’s most memorable ‘pranks’ over the last couple of years. One of which had left me with a bloody nose and gotten him grounded for a month. Normally he really is a sweet kid, and most of the time, I don’t have any issues with him.
But with Halloween in a few weeks and his lust for blood and candy growing, things usually get dicey this time of year. Especially when his school starts whipping out the Halloween themed lessons and decorations. If they haven’t already.
Groaning, I kick open the door of my car, pulling both cups of iced coffee out of my console to set on the shiny black roof of my Mustang. It takes a few moments of rummaging in my console to find my keys, then extricate them from the abyss of hair ties and coffee receipts that litter my car. Last, I grab my phone, shoving it in the pocket of my sweatpants along with my keys before closing the driver’s door with my hip and plucking my coffee from the roof.
“You like your nephew,” I mumble to remind myself of that fact. I don’t mind babysitting for my sister, Louise, but after the events of today, I’d much rather be passed out face down on my bed for the entire weekend. “You like your nephew most of the time,” I clarify, just before I lift my elbow to knock on her door, since my hands are full of heavily doctored coffee.
I hear footsteps thundering towards the door of Lou’s very nice suburban house, and seconds later it opens, revealing a blond, grinning boy of nine. “Winnie!” he greets happily, launching forward to wrap his arms around my waist as I tighten my grip on my coffee to avoid spilling it over us both.
“Hey Scott,” I greet, a smile on my face. Absently I admire the fall-themed wreath on her door, and note that it’s one of the very few things that sets her house apart from the others on this block full of cookie-cutter homes that regularly sell for way too much.
But at least she has a cool backyard and patio. A dog’s loud, intimidating bark meets my ears, and I brace myself as Roscoe rounds the corner, all eighty-six pounds of Doberman launching itself at me with the same enthusiasm as Scott. “Let me set my coffee down in the kitchen,” I beg, fending him off by turning away to protect the caffeine. “Then you both can climb all over me, okay?” I breeze through the foyer and into the living room, glancing around at the Halloween decor tastefully put up around the house. Though I know for a fact neither Lou nor her husband Dan were responsible. They definitely had their housekeeper do it for them. Just like last year and the year before.
They aren’t exactly the DIY kind of people.
“Lou?” I call, when I’ve reached the kitchen without any sign of her. I set one cup of coffee in the fridge and keep the other one with me, turning to scratch Roscoe’s ears when he bounds to a stop at my side. “Where’s your mom?” I ask my nephew, who’s also loving on his favorite creature in the world.
“In the office, I think,” he tells me absently. “Can I try that?” he points at the coffee and I shrug.
“Sure,” I reply, handing it to him just as my older sister, Lou, breezes into the room and eyes us curiously.
“You’re not going to like that,” she informs her son, heading for the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water out of the door.
“He might,” I disagree, grinning at her. We don’t look much alike, honestly. We never have. And lately, for some reason, I’ve been noticing it more and more. With her black hair and my blonde, with her brown eyes and my blue, we don’t share many similar features from our mom. It seems both of us inherited most of our looks from our different dads.
Our personalities couldn’t be more different, either.
“He might,” I say again. “Because let’s be honest, I drink mostly flavored milk with a hint of coffee.” If I can actually taste the coffee, I’m clearly doing something wrong.
“It’s not bad,” Scott says, taking a second sip of my coffee. “What flavor is it supposed to be?” he hands the plastic cup back to me after sneaking a third sip of it while his mother isn’t looking, and I grin.
“Cookie dough,” I answer. “It’s my favorite.”
“It doesn’t taste like cookie dough,” the nine-year-old replies, kneeling down on the floor with Roscoe.
I look at the pale liquid in the plastic cup and take a long swallow of it. “Yeah,” I eventually agree with a sigh. “It really doesn’t. Definitely does not score points for accuracy, but I’m still addicted.”
“Which is something you don’t want to be,” Lou tells her son, walking past and ruffling his curly black hair. “I sent you money to your PayPal,” she tells me, glancing my way. “Do you need anything before Dan and I leave?”
“A million dollars?” I ask, bumping my hand against the counter and grimacing with a soft hiss of discomfort.
“You really did a number on yourself, huh?” Lou is in front of me suddenly, her fingers gripping my wrist as she stares at the gauze on my hand like she can see under it to the stitches below.
“What happened?” Her son is quick to notice and hops to his feet, craning his head to the side so he can see my hand. “Did you hurt yourself, Winnie?”
“Cut myself on a broken plate.” It’s the truth, and an easy one. I don’t need to tell them why I freaked out. Not like Lou would believe me, anyway. We haven’t talked about our shared childhood traumas in a long time, and I doubt she wants to dredge up the past now.
No matter how much the topic of Cassian Byers itches on my tongue.
“Ouch,” Scott gasps, reaching one hand out as if to touch it. But I slap his hand away lightly, nose scrunched in a dramatic frown.
“Don’t poke it.” Gently, I extricate my hand from Lou’s grip. “It hurts enough without you making it worse, kid.”
“Go tell your dad it’s time to go, would you?” Lou asks, smiling at Scott in a way that I know means she wants to talk to me without him in the room. But Scott isn’t old enough to understand that yet, or to pick up on the subtle changes in his mom when she’s giving him a fake reason to leave. He runs from the room, calling Roscoe to go with him seconds before I hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs.
As soon as he’s gone, I sink down into one of the stools at the counter, dropping my hand to the granite surface and picking up my coffee again. “I hope you guys have a great time tonight. You’re living like the ideal marriage. Date nights, full-time help, and personal time so none of you get burnt out on each other. Must be nice.”
“It is,” Lou tells me, leaning on the counter across from me. “And it would be still without all of that. I love Dan. And honestly?” Her gaze softens, though her mouth curls into a caring, concerned frown. “I want this for you too, Winnie. I met Dan when I was younger than you?—”
“And it was love at first sight, you guys dated for a year, and you knew all along you were meant to be,” I finish for her flatly. “Yeah, I know, Lou. I was there. ” I roll my eyes at her and she gently shoves my shoulder, her frown curving into an amused grin.
“I just wish you’d find someone,” she sighs. “Anyone. I’m not picky, and I know Mom is worried for you, too.”
“Because it would just be terrible to end up alone?” I ask, looking down at the brush against my ankles. Their long-haired Siamese, Minxy, gazes up at me with her crossed eyes, letting out a soft sound much more like a squeak than a meow. “Because it would just be awful of me to end up as the crazy cat lady down the street?” I reach down with my good hand and she rubs against my fingers before trotting away, her bottle-brush tail flicking in the air behind her.
Lou just snorts, not letting herself get roped into an argument with me over this old topic. “Broken plate, huh?” she asks, directing the conversation back to my hand. “What did you do? Grab the broken end?”
“Yep,” I bemoan. “I was super distracted after dropping one of our plastic bins. Picked it up and didn’t realize it had cut me.” I survey the white gauze, flexing my fingers just a little.
“Distracted by what? Some cute guy in the diner?” There it is again. Lou wiggles her brows at me, once again leaning on the counter with interest.
And she’s not…wrong, exactly. But I bite my lip, tapping my fingers on the counter as I listen for sounds of her son or her husband on the stairs. Luckily for me, Dan is keeping Scott entertained upstairs, probably having him help with packing or last-minute preparations.
“Don’t bite my head off or get that look on your face, okay?” I ask, watching Lou’s gaze sharpen. “You know the look I mean. The ‘maybe we should go see your therapist’ look.”
Her brows twitch, eyes narrowing just a bit at my words. She tenses, obviously preparing herself for me to drop some bombshell on her that’s going to have her go into emergency mode with me for the first time in ten years.
But I’m not planning on being that dramatic. “You don’t have to start planning an intervention,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. “I dropped the bin because I was spacing the fuck out. And I cut myself because I…thought I saw someone, okay? Someone I used to know?”
“Who?” Her question is guarded, hesitant, and she searches my face as if she can see the answer there.
But I don’t answer instantly. I shift on the stool, lips quirked in a half frown. “Cassian,” I say at last, gazing down at the plastic cup of iced coffee currently cooling my palms.
And, just like I expect, Lou doesn’t say a word. My eyes flick up to hers and I cock an eyebrow at her, watching her emotions filter through her face as she processes the name. “But I was just seeing things.” I shrug. “When I looked again, it was just some guys across the street that were way too young. It’s just the time of year, you know? I get a little weird around Halloween.”
That’s always been my excuse for any weird behavior in October and honestly? It’s pretty valid.
“Oh,” Lou murmurs. She frowns with that maternal concern again and reaches out to grip the fingers on my uninjured hand. “I’m sorry, Winnie. I know this time of year sucks for you.”
“It’s fine.” I look down at our joined hands, noting the differences between us again. As usual, I can’t help but wonder what I would be like if we’d had the same dad. Her father, our mom’s first husband, had been kind, according to Lou. She remembers him a little, since he’d died when she was eight, then a year later Mom married my dad.
Who was certainly not kind. To me, at least. Lou had been out of the house by the time things really exploded, and I know she feels guilty for abandoning me, as she sees it in her mind. But I’ve never held a grudge towards her or my mother.
They don’t deserve it.
“Anyway.” I hear footsteps on the stairs and tap her hand, my smile returning. “You need to leave! Go out on your date night, go to your place, and have fun. You don’t need to worry about us.” When Scott comes into the kitchen, I sling an arm over his shoulders. “We’re going to have a great time watching Halloween movies and eating pizza.”
“And ice cream,” Scott adds.
“Ooh and Halloween candy.” His enthusiastic grin meets my wolfish one, and I drag him into a one-armed hug. “It’s going to be the best aunt-nephew bonding session ever.”
“Just don’t destroy the carpets again,” Lou intones, just as Dan comes into the room with both of their suitcases and a question on his face. “I’m coming,” my sister promises, glancing around the kitchen as if she’s forgotten something.
When she hesitates, I know what’s coming and cut her off before she can say it. “I’m fine , okay? We’re fine. It’s going to be an awesome time, and literally nothing will go wrong. It rarely does.”
“And I won’t play with matches,” Scott promises, earning looks from both of his parents as I try to muffle a snort.
“I’ll hide the matches.” Scott and I usher them out, and when their son runs to hug his mom then dad, Lou steps close to me and gives me a quick embrace.
“Call me if you need anything,” she whispers, leaning close.
“Always do.”
“And Winnie?” She pulls back enough to meet my gaze, and my heart sinks just a little at the concern there. “Don’t do that, okay?” Her voice is soft, and I know she doesn’t want Dan or Scott to hear. I don’t either. “Don’t drag all of that up again. You need to try to forget. Stop thinking about it, stop dwelling. You know what happened last time you were convinced he was back.”
Gently, I pull away from her, eyes serious. “Yeah, Lou,” I agree quietly, the smile gone from my face. “I know exactly what happened last time, the time before that, and what happened when you left for college.” She winces, but I don’t mean it as an accusation. “Go,” I push her arm playfully. “Go have fun with Dan. You deserve it. I mean it, I’m totally fine.”
Mostly fine.
As fine as I ever get.
“I love you.” Lou opens the door to their silver, fancy sedan and gets into the passenger seat. “I love you a lot . “
“And I love you, too. With the fury of a thousand suns,” I agree, grabbing her door as Dan gets in and shuts his with a quick wave my way. “Good bye , Lou. Stop being such a worrywart.” Before she can say something to the contrary, I close her door, knocking on it like I’m giving Dan the all clear.
Finally Lou grins, and as they pull out of the driveway, she waves at both Scott and I, biting her lip over her grin.
“She’s worried,” Scott murmurs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “She always worries.”
“Did she give you money for pizza?”
My grin is wide and promising as I look down at him, slinging an arm over Scott’s shoulders again. “Oh, buddy…” I laugh. “She gave us money for pizza, dessert, and milkshakes. ”