Chapter 26 #2
Look at that, Amelia must be rubbing off on me. I’m seeing the bright side of a shitty situation.
I’ve been so absorbed in my own problems, I’ve hardly seen her lately either. Look at me, becoming a horrible friend just because I’ve got a business to run and some good dick to ride.
Though, in my defense, she’s pretty preoccupied with riding her own dick, and her own new job, and her own family reunion, so I don’t think she’s missed me all that much.
Still, I should set up a girls’ night with her and Gracie. Maybe Rory if we ever talk to each other again after this.
Fingers deep in the dirt—the closest thing I get to therapy—I dig around, rooting for the source of the problem until I find it.
Grabbing onto the offending plant, I yank, pulling until my fingers feel raw, like the skin is going to snap and burst from the pressure, but I don’t stop.
The pain in my hand gives me something else to focus on.
An enemy to wage my war against that isn’t my sister.
The tension gives way, dirt spraying as the roots come loose, and this small victory feels disproportionately satisfying.
Tossing the weeds to the growing pile at my side, I brush off my hands, preparing to stand to meet Rory and go inside, but she surprises me by sinking down to her knees.
In the dirt.
In her fancy outfit that isn’t from the big box store up the road from here.
My eyes track the toes of her heels burrowing into the ground as she rests back on her legs, paying no attention to the mess she’s creating of her precious outfit.
I must be about to start my period, because that shouldn’t make my eyes sting. The past few weeks have me all fucked up, this nonstop emotion turning me into someone I don’t even recognize.
The pit of my stomach turns heavy, then hollows out at the thought of another fight with her.
I’m so tired of being angry, I’m sick of not having my sister. I truly don’t know if I have the strength to battle it out with her again.
Wilder’s words come back to me, centering me.
Don’t push her away. If you need to lash out at someone, lash out at me.
Nodding at him, I prep myself to keep my tongue on a leash today, to not inflict any more damage on her.
Defensive walls rising in place, my eyes move up to meet the ones that look just like mine. Just like our mom’s.
They’re softer than I expect, not much lighter than the soil I’m entrenched in, but full of so much depth. A rainbow of emotions blinks back at me, from sorrow, to regret, to so much love my breath hitches.
She speaks quickly, before I get the chance. “I met with Dad.”
“What?”
“After I read the letters. I went to see him.”
“Where? What happened?” My words stumble over one another, racing to get past my tongue faster than the one before it.
She smiles fondly at my eagerness, and I try not to bristle. “We went for coffee in his town. Didn’t need all the old biddies here talking about it.” She adds that last part under her breath, and we both huff a small laugh at the truth in the words.
Very few things manage to stay a secret in the Heights.
“And?” I whisper.
She tosses her head side to side, her smooth brown hair I pretend I’m not jealous of flipping with the motion. My curls have never looked that sleek a day in their lives.
“We caught up,” she says quietly, hands resting on her knees. “He filled me in on his life, and I…filled him in on mine.”
I’m not sure what I expected today, but this certainly wasn’t it. Breathless, I watch on, waiting for more from her.
“It wasn’t easy,” she admits, one shoulder popping up elegantly. “I almost didn’t go. Okay, so I tried to turn around and come home instead of parking, Wyatt talked me out of it. Said I could do it for you.”
Her doe eyes look up at me shyly, and I’m surprised at the warmth that floods the cavity in my chest when she says it.
“So I went through with it, and it was…nice.” She settles on a word that can have so many different inferences, but in this case, there’s nothing nasty in her tone.
“Nice?” I repeat, and she nods.
“Those letters helped me see that as much as I’ve hated him for what he did, he’s not the only one who hurt this family.”
My lips pop open, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this speechless in my entire life.
“I mean,” she rushes to continue, “obviously I knew I hurt you guys. Hello.”
She pulls a face, like she’s thinking back to the months and months she spent trying to make it up to Mom, to me, to Wyatt, when she first came back.
“But seeing it through his lens, and Mom’s.” Her eyes water and she looks off to the side, collecting herself. “It really put it into perspective.”
I nod, settling further in, shifting from my knees to my butt and crossing my legs. I’m even more surprised when she follows suit.
“And he really tried, Lex,” she whispers when she’s ready to continue.
“We all did,” I tell her. “Those first few weeks you were gone, we all called, texted, drove around trying to find you.”
Rory’s head drops, her shoulders shaking silently, until she collects herself and looks up again. “I don’t believe in regrets, Lex,” she says, voice thick. “But I am sorry for what I put you guys through.”
I nod, blinking rapidly to stem more emotion from leaking out.
I’ve let out a lifetime’s worth in the past couple weeks. There shouldn’t be any more left in me.
“I believe you,” I tell her. “And we’re glad you came back.”
Her hand reaches out, across the small space between us, and grasps mine. She doesn’t cringe or flinch at the dirt caked beneath my nails, that’s tucked into my knuckles. It’s like she doesn’t even notice that she, Rory Weiss-Grady, is getting filthy with me.
“I told Dad all about New York, my career. About New Heights. Even showed him a picture of his granddaughter.”
My other hand claps to my mouth, covering the smile that breaks out on my face.
“It was a good start,” she says diplomatically. “I’m not sure what forgiveness looks like. But I think we’re on the right path.”
“I think it looks like this,” I tell her, squeezing her hand. “When someone hurt you, but you love them more than you resent what they did to you, and you’d rather have them in your life.”
“Are we gonna be okay?” she whispers, voice cracking.
“We already are,” I tell her.
She lunges forward, wrapping me in her skinny arms and holding me longer than I can remember her ever doing before.
Man, becoming a mother has really softened her up.
Maybe I can blame my reactions on becoming an auntie, because this shit isn’t like either of us.
“There’s just one more thing I have to get off my chest,” she says, clearing her throat as she pulls back from me, her serious face back in place.
Here we go.
“I hate that you felt you couldn’t tell me about the money.”
I roll my eyes, gesturing to her. “So you could’ve blown up at me way back then? You would’ve lost your shit that I was talking to Dad, much less taking money from him.”
“I would’ve gotten over it,” she says softly. “What hurts so much worse is that you lied to me. You put me in a position where I have to ruin my big sister’s dream.”
My head pulls back at that.
“Ugly truths and pretty lies,” she muses, fingers in the grass at her side, plucking a few blades and rolling them in one hand.
“I would’ve rather you told me from the start.
Being in the position I’m in now, this is the hardest part of all of it for me.
Having to turn you in and burst your dream after helping you build it.
It’s scarring me, Lexi. I’m sick to my stomach over it, day in and day out. ”
I swallow the lump in my throat, but it lodges somewhere around my lungs, burning.
“I’m looking for every possible solution, combing the fine print of the legislation on this program, but I’m really worried there isn’t one.”
Lifting a shoulder, I nod back at her. “You and Dad have to live with your mistakes. This is me living with mine too.”
Her eyes pinch tight and she shakes her head quickly. “I don’t want that for you.”
“Hey,” I tell her, reaching back out for her hand. “Maybe another buyer will come along, and maybe they’ll let me stay on as manager.”
Rory’s sad gaze hollows my insides as she watches me, gauging whether I really mean it. If I’m actually okay with this.
And I’m surprised when it’s peace that I feel at the acceptance of my fate. Maybe disappointed peace, but I made this bed. It’s only fair I’m the one who can’t nap in it.
“I’ll be okay. Whatever happens,” I assure her. “If I have to go back to the grocery store, at least my garden will be snatched again.”
“Don’t count your chickens just yet,” she says, a mysterious look on her face.
“Why would I count my chickens?” I ask her, confused. “You’re the one with chickens. Do we need to count them, is that a thing? Did the foxes come back?”
She laughs, leaning forward and clutching her stomach. “It’s a saying,” she heaves out between cackles. “My God who was your English teacher?”
“Ms. Snow, same as yours!”
“She really failed with you, Lex. I’m saying it’s not over yet. I’ve got a meeting this afternoon with a possible investor. Let me see if there’s anything I can do. Worst case basis, maybe I can at least sell the place off and make sure you aren’t saddled with any debt out of this whole mess.”
“Right.” That pit in my stomach is back again, at having to turn over the restaurant I’ve poured my heart and soul into. The one Wilder has put all of himself into. The one my dad ran for decades before that.
But it’s fine.
There are more important things than careers and how I get a paycheck.
Having my family back would be better than keeping the restaurant.
We stand, dusting off our pants.
“But first,” Rory says, glancing down at her lithe form. “I need to go home and change. And possibly burn this outfit.”
Okay, maybe some things never change.