Chapter 22
I once again did what I swore I would never do. I made Sloane run away from me. I made her cry.
Fuck.
This is why I shouldn’t be acting on these feelings. This is why I should have never moved in here with her. This is why I shouldn’t be around her intoxicating, stupid fucking peach and vanilla smell, and her stupid, annoying cheese-eating dog, or her overwhelming plants.
What pisses me off the most, is how all of that is a pile of bullshit—I can’t even lie to myself.
The only time I saw the light at the end of the tunnel after my accident was when Ronan told me I was moving in with her.
I wasn’t lying when I said I missed her, or when I told her she crossed my mind on a regular basis. I mean, the stacks of notes don’t lie.
For some reason, she’s the one person in this world I don’t want to hurt, but the one person I cut the deepest.
I’m such a sack of shit.
The rest of the weekend was straight up garbage. She didn’t even stay home. She texted me once she was already at her friend Jade’s apartment, and I spent the entire weekend pacing her house. Or at least, my equivalent of pacing. More like hobbling.
I even cancelled my rehab appointment today hoping to catch her when she came back home. But when she walked in, if she saw me sitting on the couch she didn’t even acknowledge me before making her way to her room and closing her door. At least she left me Gigi.
I need to figure out what to do. I made an appointment with a therapist, and they told me I should have started immediately, when I was at the hospital, but I told them I didn’t need it—that I would be fine.
I thought I was.
I thought the nightmares were over. I never thought I’d start falling for Sloane, or that she’d even give me the time of day once I was back in her life.
I didn’t think my scars or lack of mobility would impact me this way, but they made me push her away.
Actually, I more than pushed her away. I can’t even put into words what I did to her . . . for a second time now.
My spiralling thoughts have me pulling at my hair in frustration, but I’m interrupted by my phone ringing. I hope it’s not Ronan. Picking it up, I see it’s my younger sister, Summer, calling.
Weird. I wouldn’t say we’re the closest of siblings.
“What?” I bark into the phone when I pick it up.
“Okay, so, I see you’re still an ass,” she sasses back.
“Sorry, it’s been a shit day—shit weekend,” I tell her, letting out a sigh.
“That sucks,” she says nonchalantly. The thing with me and Summer is I know I’m a dick, and she knows she’s a bit self-centered. It’s perfect. I’m the only one she doesn’t have to hide herself from, and in return, I get to be a dick without remorse. It’s a win-win.
“Anyway, I need your opinion,” she says, without pausing for me to respond.
“I got a job in Calgary; I didn’t really apply for it.
A doctor I worked with in Uganda decided he needed to settle down—his husband really wants to start a family.
They decided to relocate to Calgary, and he opened his clinic a few weeks ago, then called me saying I could have a job at his clinic—that he would even pay for the certifications I need to specialize in gynecology.
I told him I’d have to think about it, but what’s there to think about?
I’d get to live by Hannah, who—let’s not kid ourselves—is probably going to get married and start popping out kids soon.
And we all know I’ll be the best fun aunt.
Plus, who wouldn’t want a front row seat to Levi trying to get Lacey.
I’ve never met the girl, but Hannah tells me she’s something else.
That she clearly loves Levi but she’s going to make him work for it.
Yeah, I definitely want a front row seat to that.
I’ll get Levi to find me a place. Think he still has that condo he first lived in when he moved there? I think he does.”
I swear she only calls me to think out loud. She never really wants my opinion, just needs someone to listen while she goes through her never-ending spiralling thoughts.
“All right,” she says all of a sudden, “your turn. Why are you in such a pissy mood? I thought you’d be living your best life living with your little Rosie.” She says little Rosie in a condescending tone, taking me aback.
“Why don’t you like Sloane?” I ask her, confused as to where her contempt for Sloane comes from.
She ignores my questions and starts back up on one of her rants.
“You know I used to like her. Plus, when she was around Ronan would be there as well, and he was always fun to have around. But Sloane, she got on my nerves. At first, I wasn’t sure why, then I realized I was jealous of her.
I mean, sure, I had Linc, but it’s your attention I wanted. ”
She has me completely confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh come on, Liam,” she says with a dry laugh. “You can’t be serious?”
At my uncomfortable silence, she continues.
“Do you remember when I was ten and I broke my arm? Probably not. Other than signing my cast, you didn’t really pay attention to me.
For some reason, I had it in my mind that you would finally give me attention like you did Sloane.
A few months later, Sloane sprained her wrist at gymnastics or something, and you doted on her as if she was a queen.
It’s always been Sloane this and Sloane that.
I could never get you to watch a movie with me, yet I swear, every time you came home from Ronan’s house, you would tell us that you watched Madagascar with Sloane.
I got my license and you couldn’t have cared less, but you taught her how to drive.
I got my heart broken, didn’t make the volleyball team, got into my dream school .
. . but I never got anything from you. Sure, you threatened to go kick the guy who broke my heart’s ass, would give me a high five, but it was always the bare minimum. ”
For fuck’s sake. As if I didn’t already feel like a sack of shit human being, now I’m learning that I’ve been a horrible brother to Summer for years.
I need to go for a run, get my thoughts in order, then forget everything.
I just need the sound of my feet hitting the ground to keep me company.
But as it is, I can barely pace the room.
Instead, I’m stuck sitting in the same spot, picking at my nails as my younger sister tells me how I’ve been a shit brother her entire life.
“Then I got older, and I got it. I got that she was part of you more than I could ever be part of you. Where she went your eyes followed, not in a creepy way, though. Always just checking, making sure she was okay, making sure she was happy. It was kinda cute, in a way. That is, until I saw her looking at you. At first, that was cute too. What girl didn’t have a crush on her brother’s best friend or friends—it’s a right of passage, really.
But the look she gave you never changed.
If anything, I swear every time I saw her looking at you she was falling deeper in love.
I realized it wasn’t just infatuation. Then, she fell off the face of the earth—never to be heard of again. Until you moved in with her.”
Say what you will about Summer, but the girl is perceptive.
“So, I’m going to ask you this once—offer you my help once. Only because, over the years, the more I watched you two together and how unbearable you were after she left for school, I know that Sloane is part of you on a deep level. Deeper than you’re probably willing to admit.”
Summer rarely offers to help me, and now I know why.
I always thought it was my grumpiness that kept my only sister at bay, but apparently it was my relationship with Sloane.
Looking back now, knowing what I know, and what Summer seems to always have known, I can see that she did try to help me when Sloane first left for Montreal.
I think those first six months without Sloane were when I spent the most time I ever had with Summer.
Hell, we even went on vacation together, texted almost every day, and called each other at least once a week.
But then, after a while—probably after me getting back to my grumpy asshole self with her because I realized Sloane wasn’t coming back—we stopped talking every day.
“Fuck, Summer. I’m sorry—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m not calling for an apology. I know you love me, blah blah blah, and all the other bullshit. Just tell me what happened. If not, I’m calling Ronan and telling him you hurt his baby sister.”
And that is why my younger sister is the best. She might be a little on the selfish side, but if she’s on your side, she’ll do anything for you.
My only problem is, I doubt she’ll be on my side after I tell her what I did.
I already feel ashamed and disgusted with myself for what I did, but the feeling is tenfold now that I have to tell my sister.
We might not be the closest siblings, and I might be the older of the two, but I know I’m going to disappoint her, which makes my stomach churn even more.
Reaching over to my bedside table, I grab a few Tums before telling her what happened.
“Do you want me to start with the first time, or what I did two days ago?”
“Sounds juicy. I want all the details. Start right from the beginning,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice—she’s enjoying this.
“Seven years ago, right before she went off to university, she had finally gotten invited to a party,” I start, but then decide to skip over all the gory details. “Long story short, she got drunk, called me to come pick her up, and once I got her home she kinda threw herself at me—”
I’m cut off by Summer making some weird squeaking noise. “Noooo! Damn, the girl has balls! Go Sloane!”
“I thought you didn’t like her?” I ask.
“Now I do! Keep going!” she encourages.