Chapter 12
“This is the last box.” Nate hoists it into the back of his truck. I happily watch, letting him do all the heavy lifting.
“What’s that noise?” My eyes glance around, but we’re the only two people in the parking lot of the embroidery shop. “It’s like a beeping sound.”
He slams the back of his truck shut and glances at his wrist. “Oh, it’s my stupid Apple Watch, alerting me that my heart rate is elevated.”
“You can go into your settings and change that if you don’t want the entire world to know how out of shape you are.”
He gives me a cocky grin while spreading his arms out to the side. “Nothing about this body is out of shape.”
“Your Apple Watch says differently.”
His arms drop in defeat. “It’s new, and I haven’t taken the time to get all the settings where I want them.”
We climb into the truck and buckle our seatbelts. My phone connects as soon as he starts the engine, picking back up with the last chorus of “Take on Me . ”
“I think we made some great choices for the room drops. The tube of Chapstick with the Pureskin logo on it was a really good idea. I knew you’d be valuable to bring along.”
My brows drop, skeptical of his compliment. “Thanks.”
The music pauses as a phone call comes over the speaker.
Nate eyes my device. “Is that your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say as I try to disconnect from his car speaker. “It’s a number I don’t recognize.”
“Then don’t answer. I never do.”
“Don’t answer?” I’m not capable of ignoring a phone call. I’ll spend the next hour wondering who’s trying to get ahold of me. “It could be the store calling us. Maybe we left one of the swag boxes there.”
“So answer, then.”
“I’m trying to disconnect it first.”
He reaches out and accepts the call on his car screen. “Hello?”
I give him a sharp look, making it clear I don’t appreciate the invasion of phone call privacy.
“I’m looking for Carly Catterson,” a woman says over the car speaker.
My chin tilts upward to where the microphone is. “This is she.”
“Hi, Miss Catterson. This is Wendy from Brookside Elementary. We have you down as one of Caroline's emergency contacts.”
My chest constricts. “Is everything okay?”
“Caroline isn’t feeling well. She’s throwing up—once in her classroom and multiple times in the nurse's office. We need a family member to come pick her up.”
Nate’s jaw is wide open as he mouths, “You’re a mom?”
I hit his arm, offended that he would even jump to that conclusion. “Have you called my mom yet?”
“Yes, we tried Nancy and Clark. Neither of them answered. You’re the next emergency contact on the list.”
“Well, I’m at work and can’t come. You’ll have to call one of my other siblings.”
“For safety reasons, nobody else besides you and your parents is authorized to pick Caroline up from school.”
“We’ll be right there,” Nate interjects, prompting me to hit his arm again. “What did you say is the name of the elementary school?”
“Brookside,” Wendy answers. “In Gilbert.”
“Okay, tell little Caroline to hang tight. We’ll be there soon.” He clicks off the call before I can say anything else.
I twist my body to face him. “We are not picking up my little sister from school.”
“She’s throwing up. You can’t leave her there.” He punches Brookside into his navigation.
“My mom can get her. Let me text her.”
“We’re only eight minutes away. Why wouldn’t we just grab her?”
“Because she’s my mom’s problem.”
Nate laughs. “She’s your little sister, not an ant infestation in your house.”
I soften, recognizing how harsh I sound. “I just mean, my mom is the one who wanted so many kids, so she’s the one who can take care of them when they need something. It’s not our responsibility to drop everything and save the day.”
“How many kids does your mom have?”
“A lot.” I glance out the window, hoping Nate’s curiosity is satisfied there.
“Like four or five?”
Giving my enemy the inside scoop on the Scattersons is not something I want to do, but the second Caroline gets in the car, she’ll blab to Nate whatever information he wants. It’s better to just take care of it myself—control the narrative.
I slowly turn my head. “Ten.”
“Ten!” His jaw drops. “That’s counting your parents, right?”
“Nope.”
“Your mom had ten kids?” His gaping mouth hasn’t decreased at all.
Sucking air through my nose, I reluctantly answer. “Yes.”
“What are you, Mormon or Catholic? Like, originally from Utah?” he adds as if I need more context.
My head tilts with blazing eyes meant to scorch. “No. My parents just really wanted a big family.”
“And where do you fit in?”
“I’m the oldest.”
“That explains a lot about you.”
I smile sweetly back at him. “I hope Caroline throws up all over your fancy truck.”
“Nah.” His amused expression only adds fire to the flame. “I’m sure the nurse has a vomit bag we can bring along for the ride.” He clucks his tongue. “All this time, I never knew you were part of the Duggar family.”
“We are not the Duggars!” A murderous glare accompanies my words.
“That’s to be determined.”
I rub my temples in an attempt to alleviate my suffering. “I cannot believe this is happening.”
Brookside is where I and all the other nine Cattersons went to school. Pulling into the parking lot feels like returning to the scene of a crime. But instead of a murder, it’s where I had to fend off jokes about my large family over and over again. Nate pulls into the pickup lane, and I jump out.
“Stay here! I’ll get Caroline.”
I rush inside the building, waiting patiently for them to unlock the doors to the front office so I can sign out my sister.
“Oh, you must be Caroline’s big sister. I’d ask you for your ID, but you two look exactly alike.” The office lady has a friendly smile, but even that couldn’t lift my spirits right now.
“That’s me.”
“We just need you to sign your name on this pad.” She scoots a clipboard in front of me, and I scribble my signature on the line.
Caroline comes around the corner with her backpack and a throw-up bag. She looks taller than the last time I saw her. When was the last time I saw her? Probably Christmas. A tinge of guilt squeezes my ribs with the message: You’re a terrible sister.
“Hey, Caroline.” I offer my best mom voice, but it’s counterfeit. “I hear you’re feeling sick.”
Her blue eyes well up. “Where’s Mom?”
“I don’t know.” I put my arm around her shoulders, ushering her out of the office. “But I’ll take you home.”
“I threw up all over my desk.”
“That’s okay.”
“Everyone laughed at me.”
“Well, kids suck,” I say as we approach Nate’s truck.
“Is this your car?”
“No, I was at work when the school called.” I fling open the door and gesture for her to get in the back. “This is Nate’s car.” My eyes shoot to him. “He’s nobody important. Just someone I work with.”
“Hi, Caroline.” The way he smiles at my little sister should be outlawed. No woman stands a chance against that kind of tenderness.
“Hi,” she mutters as she climbs in and gets situated.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“My stomach hurts.”
“Should we take her to the doctor?” Concern edges the corners of his eyes—another thing that should be outlawed when you’re desperately trying to dislike someone.
“No, she’ll be fine. Let’s just go.”
Nate shifts into drive and slowly pulls out of the parking lot. “Where am I taking her?”
“Uh…” I didn’t think about how Nate would have to drop her off at my parents’ house. It’s fine as long as he doesn’t go inside. That was my motto growing up. Despite my best efforts to keep up appearances, nobody had to know how disgusting the Cattersons were. “I’ll put the address into your navigation.”
“Caroline, I can’t believe how much you look like your big sister, Carly.” His brown eyes flick to the rearview mirror so he can see her as he speaks. “And I can’t believe how big your family is. Where do you fit in?”
“I’m the youngest.”
“But you seem so old.” He shoots her one of his charming smiles, instantly winning her over.
She perks up. “I’m eight.”
“Whoa! That’s big. Just like your family.”
I purse my lips, sending him a warning look to move on to another subject.
“Do you know all our names start with C?” she tells him.
“You don’t say?”
“Caroline, you don’t have to talk,” I say over my shoulder. “You can just rest.”
“Oh, but first, we need to hear all ten of those C names.” Nate gives me a sideways smirk.
Before I can stop her, she starts rattling off the names with pride. “Carly, Claire, Conner, Christie, Callie, Chloe, Cade, Cooper, Carter, and Caroline.”
“Wow, that’s a lot!” He grins back at her. “I bet you love having a big family. Is Carly a good big sister?”
My stomach tenses, not wanting to hear her answer.
Caroline shrugs as she looks out the window. “She never comes home.”
I feel Nate’s eyes on me, but I grab my phone to avoid his gaze. “I better text my mom and tell her we picked her up from school already.”
“Do you know the best part of missing school because you’re sick?” Nate asks but doesn’t wait for her answer. “Watching all the TV shows that are on in the afternoon.”
“My mom just texted and said she’ll be home in a half hour,” I report before turning back to my sister. “So you won’t be home alone for very long.”
“We can stay until your mom gets home.”
“No!” I say in a panic. “We need to get back to the office. Plus, Caroline is old enough to stay by herself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.” I point down the street. “That’s our house up on the left.”
“Very homey.”
You think that until you go inside.
“Okay, Caroline, tell Nate thank you for the ride,” I say as he pulls into the driveway.
“Thank you.”
“Do you need some help getting her inside?” He moves to unclick his seatbelt.
“Nope!” I hold up my hand as I wait for Caroline to climb out. “We’re good. Just wait in the car. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I punch in the garage code and turn to my sister as we wait for the door to lift. “I’ll get you some medicine, and you can lie down on the couch until Mom gets home.”
“Okay.”
When the garage door fully lifts, I wince at what Nate can see from the front seat of his truck. The entire space is filled with boxes and crap my parents think are treasures. Forget about parking a car in there. The garage has become a hoarder's sanctuary.
I push the door to the house open and immediately run into a couple of pairs of shoes on the ground. My eyes cast around the house. Piles of clothes are stacked on top of the washer with more piles strewn across the ground. Empty detergent containers spill out of the overflowing can. Full garbage bags wait by the door for someone to take them out to the bin. Hangers, baskets, lone socks, lint, dirty football jerseys, shoes, schoolwork, mud, and sewing supplies cover every inch of the laundry room.
My stomach churns with the old familiar feeling of disgust.
Caroline leads the way, stepping over the chaos. I slowly follow behind, knowing the worst is yet to come. The air in my lungs catches when I round the corner to the kitchen. I can’t even see the counters. They’re full of dirty dishes, bags of chips, sour milk, soiled paper towels, water bottles, piles of junk, food left out, and grocery items that never got put away.
The weight of the mess presses against my chest like it did when I was a teenager, but I remind myself this is no longer my problem. I have boundaries now. My mom and dad’s filth is theirs alone. I don’t have to carry it, fix it, or clean it.
Instead, I help Caroline to the couch, removing several toys and bowls so she has a place to sit down. “Looks like everything is the same here.”
“I need the remote.”
That’s one item that’s never lost in the mess. I walk over to my dad’s recliner, where it’s always left, and fetch it for her. “Let me get you some medicine.”
As I return to the kitchen, the door opens, and Nate walks in, holding Caroline’s backpack.
My stomach completely bottoms out.
This is the last version of me I want Nate to witness.
“Caroline left her…” He holds up the backpack as he steps inside, but his words trail as his gaze darts around the messy kitchen.
“Don’t say anything,” I snap preemptively. “I know it’s disgusting, but it’s not my problem anymore.”
An emotion I can’t name passes through Nate’s expression. It leans closer to gentleness than anything I’ve seen from him before. “I wasn’t going to say anything. I was just bringing in her backpack.” He sets the bag down and turns around, heading for the door. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”
My lungs deflate from relief when he walks back out.
What a nightmare.
I go to the cupboard where my mom keeps the medicine and get what Caroline needs. With a glass of Sprite and a bowl on her lap in case she throws up, I kiss my sister on the forehead, tell her Mom will be home soon, and say my goodbyes.
While climbing through the laundry room obstacle course, my phone rings. It’s Camila.
“Hey,” I answer. “I can’t talk right now. I’m with Nate at my parents’ house. Can I call you later?”
“You’re with Nate at your parents’ house? I need more details. You can’t leave me on that cliffhanger.”
I open the door and step down the garage stairs. My eyes collide with Nate’s. What could he possibly be thinking about me after this whole experience? Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough. He’ll hang it over my head for the rest of my life.
“I told you I can’t talk right now. You’ll have to wait.”
“Did you tell him about the dream? Is that why you’re at your parents' house together?”
I punch in the garage code, half distracted. “What dream?”
Camila doesn’t answer.
“Mil, you there?”
Then I hear her voice. Except, it’s not coming through my speaker. My phone is now connected to Nate’s Bluetooth in the truck, and Camila is just gabbing away. I hear her voice but can’t make out the words—most likely something about the supply closet dream.
An unspeakable tragedy.
My eyes shoot to him and the slow grin spreading across his lips.
“No, no, no!” I fumble with my phone, trying to disconnect the Bluetooth. When I can’t, I just end the call. Cut the embarrassment off at the knees.
My head hangs as I suck in a sharp breath.
I hate this day.
With all the confidence I can muster, I walk to Nate’s truck and climb inside.
He doesn’t immediately say anything, but I know it will come.
“You good?”
I can hear the amusement in his voice, but I don’t look in his direction. “Yep.”
“Alright, then.” He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the driveway.
My hands clasp together in my lap with my focus straight ahead.
“Caroline feeling better?”
“Yep.”
“Your mom will be home soon?”
“Yep.”
I’m giving Nate nothing. Quite frankly, I have nothing to give. It’s been a humiliating twenty minutes that have sucked me of my pride and dignity.
“So your friend on the phone was nice,” he says after a few silent minutes.
Oh, here it comes. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Yep.”
“She mentioned a dream you had about me. Something about us in the supply closet.”
I grit my teeth, wishing I had never told Camila about that in the first place. “Yeah, I dreamed last month that I murdered you—in the supply closet.” I finally glance at his smug face. “With the wrench,” I add after seeing his laughing brown eyes.
“No, that sounds like the game Clue. Definitely not what she described. She said, and I quote, ‘a seggsy’ dream.”
“You misheard. Savage is probably what she said. You know, because of the brutality of the murder.”
“No, I don’t think so. She definitely described it as ‘ seggsy,’ which I’m pretty sure means sexy.” He does his best to keep an even face. “You had a sexy dream about me in the supply closet at work. It’s natural, nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I draw in a breath, trying to distract myself from this nightmare.
“So what was I doing in this dream?” I can tell from his voice he’s way too pleased with himself. “Or should I say, we? What were we doing in this dream?”
“We’re not talking about this.”
“Wow, that much, huh?”
“No.” I lift my chin. “I’m just not interested in feeding you delusions of grandeur.”
A throaty laugh escapes his mouth. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to give me details. You can keep them locked away in your mind to relive over and over whenever you’re lonely.”
“You’re such a jerk,” I say under my breath as I turn my body farther away from him.
But all Nate does is laugh, fueling my passionate dislike even more.