Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lorelie
Shaking the water from my boots, I close the front door behind me.
God, we really need to sort out that stupid garage. And then I roll my eyes at myself because I say that every single time it rains and I have to sprint from my car to the front door like some drowned cat.
I turn around and stop dead.
Genesis is standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, foot tapping. “And where were you, young lady?”
I make a face and shoulder past her into the kitchen.
“Hello,” she says, trailing behind me like a shadow with opinions.
I pour myself some coffee. “You know where I was.”
She smirks. “With young Patrick again. I hope he has good intentions.”
I snort. “Only the best.”
“Still.” She uncrosses her arms. “It’s been what six months now?”
“Eighteen,” I correct sadly.
She rolls her eyes so hard I hear them. “But you’ve been dating for six months.” She makes aggressive air quotes around dating.
Genesis was all for the whole “date and reconnect” thing at first, practically forcing me into dresses and lip liner like every outing was prom night. But she lost that excitement around month three.
“We’re taking it slow,” I tell her.
“Yeah, like a snail.” She throws her hands up. “Jeez, by month six the guy would’ve seen and licked every part of me.”
I make a disgusted face. “Do you have to? And besides, I guess I’m not as easy.”
She laughs. “Sure. You should wait till he puts a ring on it.” Then she freezes dramatically and raises a brow. “Wait, he did.”
I sigh and lift my hand, showing her my bare ring finger. “No ring.”
Rolling her eyes, she steps forward and yanks the chain out from under my shirt.
“Gen… stop…” I try to dodge, but she’s freakishly strong for someone who probably weighs a hundred pounds.
She tugs until the necklace slips free, and my wedding band glints against my chest.
“Ha,” she says, smug. “Ring.”
I look down at the silver band. Patrick never took his off, but I did. I threw it into my jewelry box and forgot about it until I decided I was ready to commit to… whatever we are.
Not like I can put it back on without everyone noticing. And we’re not ready for people to know yet.
I tuck it back into my shirt. “Is there a reason you’re in my face?”
“I’m just worried about you,” she says. “You’re sneaking around and it’s not like you.”
I shrug. “It’s fun. I never got to do the ‘boy hidden in my bedroom’ thing. And I like it.”
She softens at that, sadly knowingly why. She’s the only one who fully understands how much I lost when our parents died.
I never had a normal teenage rebellion. No boyfriends in bedrooms. No sneaking kisses behind the bleachers. I was a nerd in high school, and I didn’t have any potentials for Dad to threaten with his rifle.
Genesis tilts her head. “Well, I definitely did.”
I burst out laughing. “I remember having to chase, what was his name? Out at midnight. Micky?”
“Nicki,” she says.
“No, Jack.”
She groans. “Whatever.”
“See,” I laugh, pointing at her, “when you have trouble remembering their names? It’s a problem.”
“Stop slut-shaming me,” she says, clutching her chest dramatically. “I’m heartbroken.”
“You dumped Dustin.”
“He wanted babies,” she huffs.
I nod, because I know, she already decided the only children she ever wants in her life are mine.
I pull her into my arms, rubbing her back. “You’re amazing and perfect, and you’re gonna find your person. I know it.”
She melts into the hug… until suddenly going stiff. She pulls back, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you buttering me up?”
“I-what… I would never-” I blubber, hand flying to my chest. “I’m offended-”
She keeps staring, deadpan, arms crossing like a judgmental cow.
I wilt instantly.
“Okay fine,” I mutter, surrendering. “You know how Patrick and I never get any personal time together? One where neither of us has to hide?”
“Uh-huh.” Her eyebrow shoots up.
“Well…” I press my palms together like I’m praying, because honestly, I am. “We were thinking, like, about going away for our wedding anniversary last month.”
Her stare sharpens.
“We couldn’t do it without somehow setting off smoke signals to his family,” I rush out, “so we were really hoping, wondering, begging, if you would watch the kids for us.”
I finish with my hands clasped under my chin like a Victorian orphan asking for bread.
Genesis narrows her eyes. “Are you gonna get laid?”
I stare at her. Look away. Stare again. I consider lying, truly, deeply consider it, then sigh and admit shamefully. “...Ya.”
Her face softens instantly.
“Fine,” she says, flicking her wrist in a grand, dismissive flourish. “Only because-” she waves her open palm at me like she’s presenting a prize, “I’m hoping you’ll come home in a better mood.”
My jaw drops. “Gen-”
“Don’t ‘Gen’ me,” she says, already walking toward the fridge like she didn’t just give me her blessing to have hotel sex with my own husband. “You’ve been as moody as Agnes during a blowout.”
“I have not,” I sputter.
Genesis doesn’t even dignify that with a glance. She’s pattering around the fridge, humming like some domestic menace. “Are you prepared?”
“Huh?” I blink.
She turns, holding a block of cheese. “Waxed, sweetie. Waxed. You can’t make a man wait eighteen months and then make him dig through the-”
“STOP!” I shout, slapping my hands over my ears. “Just, stop!”
I abandon the kitchen entirely, coffee forgotten on the counter as I practically sprint up the stairs.
Her voice follows me like a war cry. “I’m just saying! Don’t go in there looking like-”
“Shut up!” I shriek, tripping over my own feet as I escape into the hallway.
I slam my bedroom door, chest heaving, face burning.
Sex advice from my little sister is not something I need.
Not now.
Not ever.
Patrick
“So… did you wax?” I ask casually as I merge onto the highway.
Lore snaps her head toward me. “Patrick!”
“What?” I shrug, eyes still on the road. “Just curious.”
She looks genuinely shocked, eyebrows raised so high they’re practically touching the sun visor. “What happened to ‘what happens between a man and wife is private’?”
I bite back a grin. “Yeah, well, that was before I went eighteen months without seeing you naked.”
Her mouth falls open. Actually, falls open. “I cannot believe you just said that.”
“Why?” I ask feigning innocence. “It’s a fair assessment.”
She laughs and I can’t help but smile at the way her eyes light up.
“So,” she says, settling back in her seat, “where’d you tell your parents you were going?”
I tap the steering wheel with two fingers. “Told them I was going fishing at Barry’s cabin.”
Her head whips toward me. “Isn’t that risky? What if they show up?”
I shake my head confidently. “Told them I needed privacy. And you know, we’ve been working on the whole boundaries thing.”
She smiles, slow and amused. “Good. They needed that. How’re your siblings?”
“Harvey’s coming home,” I say, unable to keep the humor out of my voice.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” she says, meaning it.
I nod. “Get this, he followed Lauren to Seattle because she told him she was pregnant.”
Lore gasps, immediately hooked. “What?!”
“Oh, it gets better,” I say, savoring it. “She told him it was his but refused to let him do a DNA test.”
Lore sucks in a dramatic breath. “It’s not his, is it?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the p. “She couldn’t really stop him once the kid was born. And guess what?”
“It’s not his,” Lore declares, already knowing.
I nod. “Uh-huh. But she still wanted him to sign the birth certificate.”
Lore’s jaw drops. “He didn’t, right?”
“Thankfully,” I say with a sigh, “he had that much sense. Anyway, he went to Vegas to drink his troubles away-”
She snorts. “Of course he did.”
“-and he said he’s coming home once the divorce is filed.”
Lore leans back in her seat, exhaling a sympathetic sigh. “Poor Harvey.”
“Yeah,” I agree quietly. “He deserves better.”
We fall into a stretch of quiet, until Lore breaks it with a soft, eager:
“So… what else did he tell you?” She leans forward, eyes bright, ready for more gossip.
“That’s it,” I say.
She stares at me like I’ve confessed to a felony. “Come on. You didn’t get more details?”
I shake my head, grimacing. “Forgot.”
Lore sits back, crossing her arms. “You’re out of practice.”
“Apparently,” I mutter. “I forgot to ask the-”
She jumps in, already mocking me with a deep-dad voice: “-and then what happened?”
I groan. “Exactly. I forgot the ‘and then.’”
Lore shakes her head in mock disappointment, clicking her tongue like I’ve personally let down the entire gossip community.
“Isn’t it bad to gossip?” I ask, pretending to be scandalized.
She snorts. “It’s gossip if we do it with other people. Totally fine when it’s between us.”
I raise a brow. “Like sex?”
She nods without missing a beat. “Exactly like sex.”
I bark out a laugh, nearly twisting the wheel.
She shrugs innocently, eyes sparkling. “Look, a marriage needs drama as long as it doesn’t involve the parties.”
“So that’s the secret to a successful marriage?” I ask.
She makes an agreeing little hum. “Mm-hmm. Gossip, drama, but only about other people.”
I snort.
She asks. “So… Chloe?”
I don’t even try to hide the noncommittal noise that leaves my throat. It’s halfway between a groan and a sigh.
“That bad?” Lore asks, turning in her seat to look at me fully.
I blow out a breath. “I don’t know what’s going on with her. And I’ve tried. Believe me.”
Lore waits, quiet in that way she is when she knows I’ll talk if she doesn’t push.
So, I do.
“She keeps saying she needs ‘space,’ but from what? From everyone? She never answers Mom’s calls. She ignores Dad, even when he shows up at her place. She only texts me when she needs something, and even then it’s vague as hell.” I rub my jaw. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”
“The same thing you’re doing with your parents,” Lore says calmly. “Let her know you’ve got her back, but that you won’t let her walk all over you.”
I glance at her, surprised. “You say it like it’s that easy.”
She shrugs, eyes forward. “It’s not easy.
It’s necessary. There’s nowhere in the good-brother playbook that says you’re supposed to let your sibling trample you.
Sooner or later, you’ll snap. And that kind of snap can damage a relationship irreparably.
” She pauses, then adds gently, “Better to step back now without disappearing completely.”
I let that sink in. She’s not wrong.
I am close to snapping.
I can handle Chloe being short with me. I can even swallow the passive-aggressive comments. What’s really getting under my skin is the way she treats Mom and Dad. Like they’re the enemy. Like they ruined her life.
I exhale slowly. “Dad never forced us into the academy,” I say, more to myself than to her. “Just like Mom never forced Chloe into law school. That was her choice. All of ours were.”
Lore nods. “Parents influence. They don’t control. There’s a difference.”
I glance over at her again, she still manages to surprise me.
Lore never says things to take sides. She says them because she understands balance, because she had to learn it early, practically raising Gen after their parents died.
She learned when to step in and when to step back, toeing the line between sibling and parent. It shows in everything she does.
The rest of the drive passes in comfortable silence, broken only by small talk and the occasional comment about the road. I’ve never been to Barry’s cabin before. Never had the time.
It’s near Mount Creek. Barry said there’s a stream a little way behind the house. He warned us that if it rains, we should head back to the cabin. There’s a levee, but he said not to mess with nature. It wasn’t that long ago that devastating floods tore through this region, so we’re extra careful.
I pull up in front of a small, rustic cabin tucked into the trees.
The second I step out of the car, I take a deep breath.
Pine, and damp earth, hits me all at once, filling my lungs in a way the city never does.
There’s one clear path through the trees where we drove in.
Everything else is dense forest, untouched and quiet.
I grab our bags and follow Lore inside. The cabin is one open layout. We step into the living room. To the left is the kitchen. To the right is the open bedroom. There’s another door near the bed that I’m guessing leads to the bathroom.
“Cozy,” Lore says, smiling.
I drop the bags by the door and lock it, glancing around. “I know it’s not the Ritz.”
She turns to me like I’ve just said something ridiculous. “Are you kidding me?” She steps closer, looping her arms around my neck. “A cabin in the woods with my sexy husband?” Her lips brush mine as she finishes, “Screw the Ritz.”
I smile against her mouth. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Screw the Ritz.”