Chapter 2 #2
I bit my lip, wanting so badly to bite through it so I could focus on anything except the solution Kallie wouldn’t let go of.
She continued, “Plus, if he pays for all this, you won’t have to worry about money for a bit, and there won’t be so much pressure to find a job.
You can focus on your writing for a while, take a breather. ”
I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see it. “I don’t want Whit to think he has to rescue me, much less have me not working and mooching off his success.”
She completely ignored my insistence. “That’s rather presumptuous of you. He may not think that way at all. Sounds like you might be assigning people feelings when you don’t know what they are thinking…”
“I don’t need a psychology lecture. ‘No’ is my final answer.”
I heard the distinct click of her nails on a keyboard. “Fine. I have to go. The kitchen is yelling at me.” Her voice softened. “I am here for you. We will figure this out together. Go home, take a hot shower, eat some leftover Chinese?—”
“Bold of you to assume there are leftovers,” I muttered. “But okay. I’m gonna go home and get in an Epsom salt bath.” I didn’t know if it was a placebo effect because of the news I’d just gotten, but my back spasm wasn’t letting up.
“Perfect. I’ll come over as soon as we close, and we will talk about everything. We’ll get through this together, Jules,” she replied, her voice full of concern.
The nickname Kallie used for me was the nickname Whit always used, and it made my chest ache.
“I’ll see you later. Love you.” I quickly ended the call before she could respond and before I lost control and cried.
I didn’t go straight home. Instead, I indulged in retail therapy. I didn’t have a job, but I had a credit card with a decent limit.
I walked through the nearest shopping complex and entered every store, whether I was interested or not.
I bought makeup and clothes—for what, I wasn’t sure.
I hadn’t been on a date in months and rarely went out for fun.
But the complexities behind why I was doing what I was doing were too much to unpack.
I didn’t think about facts. I let myself be numb.
I didn’t want to believe or ruminate about Whit or my job loss, so I threw all of it out of my mind.
Except for my back. It was definitely not numb.
I was limping by the end of my shopping, but I rounded out my spree with a large cinnamon sugar pretzel and a healthy dose of regret, which I chased with an iced espresso.
As I hauled all of my wares across the townhouse complex’s parking lot, the thoughts I’d pushed aside began to catch up with me, and the tears fell.
I curled myself onto my couch with a blanket and fell asleep to get rid of the trouble that hung off me like lead weights.
That evening, Kallie found me clinging to my last shred of dignity, surrounded by new cartons of Chinese food on my living room coffee table.
“Oh, love,” she cooed as she waltzed into the house, still in her baking garb, her long blonde hair piled on her head again. She let her purse fall to the ground, and she walked toward me like a specter. I didn’t move to greet her.
I looked up at my best friend’s slim face full of worry and concern. A few tears welled up in my eyes, but I cut them off.
“I’m fine,” I countered, clearing my throat. “I’m braless and in sweats on my couch with Chinese food and wine coolers. How can life get any more comfortable than this?”
She chuckled and sat down beside me. She reached out and rubbed my back in loving strokes .
“I know it’s a shit thing to say to all this, but I’m so sorry.” Genuine sympathy reflected in her brown eyes.
I bit my lip and nodded. She grabbed some chopsticks and a carton of lo mein.
I couldn’t think of anything worth saying, and I could tell she didn’t know what to say either.
Neither of us could change my situation.
Finally, she put down the noodles and fork rather forcefully.
I looked over at her with a furrowed brow.
“What?” she asked, shrugging. “I’ve got something to say, but I wanted to get some food in my belly before you kick me out of the house.”
My hackles rose.
“If this is about Whit, I swear…”
“It’s not about your brother.”
My eyes narrowed.
“But it is about a phone call you need to place to your brother.”
I groaned and threw down my box of half-eaten food onto the coffee table.
“Hear me out, please. Even if you don’t tell him you lost your job, you have to tell him you’re having surgery. Text him. Smoke signal him. Something. He deserves to know.”
“Why are you so insistent about this?” I asked. She sank into the couch.
“I can’t understand how you two became so estranged,” she said, her voice soft. “I would have given anything to have a sibling. And you’ve told me story after story about your childhood, and you guys were inseparable. Now you’re willing to go in for a major surgery without telling him?”
I picked up my phone off the table and looked down at it.
“It’s not like we’re at odds,” I said. “There just haven’t been many reasons to come together anymore without Grams. I’m sure it doesn’t help that we don’t talk about any of it.
We’ve never even talked about what happened the night she died.
” I looked up at her through my lashes, watching her try to piece things together.
“What does that matter?” she asked.
“He doesn’t know Bram Winchester was with me the night of the wreck. He thinks I took Bram’s vehicle, and that I was alone, that I was the driver.”
Realization settled over Kallie’s features, her eyes widening. “Oh.”
I clutched the phone harder. “Yeah. Oh.”
“It was a million years ago, though, so why does it matter? Are Whit and that asshole even still friends?”
“I-I don’t know,” I stuttered, ignoring her assessment of Bram.
“Whit never talks about him. The last I heard, Bram was a forest ranger in Virginia. So it’s not like they live in the same place or do the same things.
They may not even be friends anymore.” My heart dropped at the possibility.
Whit and I had been close, but so had Whit and Bram.
Bram and I were never truly close, but Whit was our bridge.
My best friend took the phone from me and placed it back on the table, then grabbed my hands and turned us more fully toward each other. Her face was brimming with nervous energy, but she also had a determined glint in her eye.
“You can’t let something like what happened a million years ago keep you from knowing your brother again. Don’t discuss that night right now, you’ll figure that out later. But you need him through this. Not just for his money. Although that would be quite the perk in this situation.”
I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. “You win. I’ll call him.”
“Good.” She squeezed my hands. “And one more thing. I talked with my co-owner today. I’m going to take off for a couple of weeks and come stay with you in Mill Creek and attend to your every need after surgery.”
Guilt settled heavily on my chest, and I shook my head. “ You can’t do that. It’s too far away. If something were to happen at the bakery or with Brandon…”
She shook her head fiercely. “No argument. Even if you tell me not to come, I will pitch a tent on your front lawn wherever you stay.” She smiled, her dimples showing. “Why won’t you let me love you?” She sang the last line, making me smile in return.
When our giggles subsided, I whispered, “This has been the weirdest forty-eight hours.”
“I know,” she said. “But no matter what weird gets thrown at you, you’ve got me. I will always sit with you in your weirdness.” She picked up the phone and handed it to me. “I’m going to the bathroom. Call him.”
When she’d left, I found Whit’s name in the contacts and pressed the call button before I could change my mind.
It rang once. Twice. Three times. I was ready to hang up when the call connected.
“Julianna Joy East.” Whit’s deep voice echoed, tinted with a Southern lilt. A mixture of trepidation and relief washed over me.
“Whitaker Patrick East. My old, long-lost sibling.”
“Old?”
“Yes, old. Did you misplace your hearing aid again?”
“Lost it when I tripped and broke a hip.” I could feel him smiling through the phone. “But I probably shouldn’t joke about that. That’s the last thing I need, a career-ending injury.” My back throbbed, and I thought about the irony of it as he continued, “How are you?”
It was the moment of truth. I closed my eyes. “I’ve got some news. I have to have surgery…again, on my back. I found out this morning. It’s nothing major?—”
“Back surgery is always major,” Whit interrupted. “What happened?”
“Disc herniation. Happens all the time. In a strange turn of events, though, my doctor is retiring and wants to refer me to someone in Roanoke so that I can have the surgery in the next couple of months.”
“That’s so far. Are you sure you have to do that?” he asked, but then he gasped. “Wait, this couldn’t be better timing. I need someone to move into Gram’s house for a while. Bram moved out a couple of months ago.”
My world stopped.
“Grams’ house? You bought?—”
“Yeah, sorry. I meant to tell you. It just never seemed like a good time. I bought Grams’ house about fifteen months ago when it went back on the market. I wouldn’t have known it was available, but Bram clued me in, so I snatched it up.”
I could barely breathe.
Why didn’t he tell me?
I called him to talk about my surgery, and he hadn’t bothered to tell me he owned our childhood home. And he’d owned it for fifteen months. I tried to tamp down the sting of betrayal and focused on the second part of his statement.
“Bram Winchester was living in Gram’s house?”