Chapter 4
Wish I’d paid better attention during my first rodeo.
— Pepper’s secret thoughts
PEPPER
I waved at the neighbor who nearly took me out with her three bags of trash.
“ Sorry , sorry,” I said as I moved as far to the side of the hallway as I could to keep from getting clobbered.
The woman gave me an apologetic look and said, “ Sorry .”
I waved her off, then walked up to the door I’d been aiming for and stared at it with trepidation.
“ Just do it,” I muttered to myself.
Before I could knock, though, she yanked the door open, already glaring.
“ What are you doing here?” Sage snarled.
I narrowed my eyes at the ungrateful bitch.
“ I’m here to tell you some important news since you can’t seem to answer your phone.” I tried not to snarl back.
Sage crossed her scrawny arms over her chest. “ You expect me to answer your phone calls when y’all don’t meet me at the hospital after I was kidnapped by a serial killer?”
I nearly rolled my eyes at her. “ But were you, Sage ?”
I watched the familiar eye twitch, which was her ‘ I’m lying through my teeth’ tell.
No , we both damn well knew that she wasn’t hurt by any kidnapper, even if she made the world believe that.
I wasn’t born yesterday, though.
And neither had anyone in our family.
When we’d gotten the call about Sage , we’d been skeptical.
Mostly because, the week before, Sage had called to tell us that she was in love.
And Sage’s ‘loves’ usually equaled abusive, lying, manipulative assholes.
Usually , victims weren’t to be blamed for the transgressions of their abusers.
However , when you knowingly looked for walking red flags like my sister did, there was only so much sympathy one could have.
She hadn’t outright admitted it that day when she’d called from the hospital, but she’d hinted enough at it that I knew exactly what happened.
Though , it was my absolute understanding that if I called her on her bullshit with the fake ‘kidnapping’ or outed her to the public in anyway, she would make my life a living hell.
And truthfully, I’d gotten rid of her. I was living my life. I didn’t want to deal with her shit anymore.
But then my mom had forced me to make that stupid freakin’ promise on her deathbed, and I was stuck. Forced to put myself back in a situation where my little sister could slither back into my life where I most certainly didn’t want her to be.
I just had to keep reminding myself that this was what my mother wanted.
Give her one last chance.
When I’d argued that Sage had many of those chances, my mom had given me this look that broke my heart.
She didn’t want to leave without knowing that I would try—and by try she wanted me to give it my all.
I was that kind of person.
I didn’t give up no matter what.
I tried hard on everything I did.
I went out of my way to make sure that things were perfect for everyone.
That , as someone who showed their love by acts of service, was apparently going to be my downfall.
I would give this one last thing to my mom.
And I would force Sage to listen. To see.
I’d give it one last try, and I would not stop until I was certain I’d done everything in my power to fix this divide.
“ Since I’m a better person now, after my ordeal”—she batted her eyes—“ I’m going to act like you didn’t leave me to heal all by myself in my time of need. What are you doing here, Pepper ?”
The way she said Pepper might as well have been her saying ‘piece of shit.’
“ I tried calling you hundreds of times over the last week,” I said. “ Something happened.”
Sage rolled her eyes at my ‘dramatics.’
I was upset.
Our mother had just died. Our father was in a permanent care facility and was so confused on everything that was going on.
Mom had spent the last year fighting an aggressive form of breast cancer.
That had also been why no one had gone to see Sage .
Mom had nearly died so many times.
But that time in particular, Mom had a port implanted in her chest that had gotten infected and the infection had spread to her heart. Mom had a heart attack the same day that Sage had called to tell us of her latest woes.
Obviously , I would choose my mom over Sage .
But even though I’d hardened my heart to Sage , I’d still gone to the hospital to check on her, even if I didn’t actually walk into her room and let her know I was there.
I’d known that Mom would want an update, despite her being sick as a dog.
I’d driven to Dallas in the middle of the night, walked right up to the nurses’ station, and asked about Sage .
They hadn’t wanted to give me the details, but an officer had started talking about how she was doing when I’d started toward her room. That officer had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes were hard and unyielding, and he’d taken my breath away with one single look.
He hadn’t seen me as he gave a status report to a man that had looked incredibly like him.
Bruised . Contusions . Lucky to be alive. Couldn’t believe she’d escaped the mad man. Blah , blah, blah.
Sure , she had been lucky to be alive.
But she’d also known what she was getting into…
“ I told you not to call,” she snarled.
Yes , yes, she had.
She’d also told me she’d block me if I did.
But I had to try.
When my mouth only thinned, and she could tell I was on the verge of losing my shit, she threw up her hands.
“ Why did you call, then?” she scoffed. “ Just sayin’ but I told you if you called me, I was going to block y’all.”
I hated her.
I hated everything about her.
I hated that she looked like me.
I hated that she sounded like me.
I hated that we shared the same blood.
I hated that she reminded me of our mother.
I hated that she didn’t know why I was so upset.
I also hated that she didn’t care.
“ And we promised that we wouldn’t call unless it was emergency, to ‘give you the space you needed to reflect on your personal beliefs.’ Or whatever the fuck it was that you said,” I replied. “ As for why I called, and why our brothers called, what had to be eight thousand times? Our mother passed away a week ago. We’ve already held her funeral, though, because Dad was dying a little bit every day as we waited for you to answer your phone.”
Sage slow blinked a couple of times before snarling and launching herself at me.
I stepped out of the way, unsurprised by her act of violence.
That was another thing she liked to do.
Hit .
That was, in my honest to God opinion, why the men she was with always beat the shit out of her.
I imagined that they didn’t start out violent.
What I assumed happened was that Sage would lose her shit and then launch herself at him and beat him. He would have to calm her down—which she eventually would, offering so many apologies for her outburst—and then the pattern would repeat itself. Over and over again. Until you either reacted, or she grew bored.
Most of the time, I assumed, the men she was seeing—that she was abusing—grew tired of being the punching bag and snapped.
Some would leave—but they were the kind of men that Sage didn’t want anyway, so she didn’t pursue them. She wanted the ones who would get angry. She wanted the ones who would react.
She wanted the ones who would fight back, so she could eventually use that to her advantage.
Hell , I was fairly sure blackmailing a guy who hit her had been how she’d paid for her first car.
Expecting her attack, and expertly defending myself against it, I let her momentum roll with her and used it against her.
See , Sage was only fueled by anger and a mental disorder.
Me , on the other hand?
The first day I was well enough to go to a class after she’d beaten the hell out of me, I’d started taking Jiu Jitsu .
I’d learned how to protect myself against her.
Since then, I’d started taking multiple other kinds of martial arts, and deflecting her blows was easy.
“ Would you just stop,” I said after the fourth time she ran at me. “ Be an adult about this, Sage .”
“ Fuck you!” she snarled, reaching into her purse.
Hopefully she didn’t have a gun in there.
But she came back out with a knife, making me roll my eyes.
“ I’m gonna go,” I said. “ But if you want to talk it over like two adults, I’ll be at the fancy hotel off the interstate that’s all black. That’s where I’m staying for the time being.”
I didn’t tell her about where I worked.
She didn’t need to know that.
Though , I had no doubt she’d figure it out.
She was a super sleuther.
She also slept with people to get what she wanted.
Oh , and had the sexually transmitted disease to prove it.
Not that she shared that information with the partners she sex-tortioned.
Again , another sparkly facet of my sister’s personality.
She was a real gem, wasn’t she?
“ Fuck you!” she cried.
I walked out of her apartment.
I’d gotten the information about where she was living from a friend of a friend who was good with computers.
I didn’t have to resort to sleeping with people for information like my sister did.
I hoofed it down the stairs, and headed to my car, my phone already in my hand.
“ How did it go?” Everest asked when he answered.
“ Probably not good based on how her face looks,” Tarrant drawled.
I’d Facetimed both of them so they could be my alibis in case Sage tried to pull some bullshit on me like saying that I had hurt her in some way.
This way, they could see that I’d left free of any scrapes or bruises, relatively unharmed.
“ It went splendidly,” I grumbled. “ I’m just calling to establish an alibi.”
Both of my brothers laughed.
But they knew just as well as I did that I was being serious.
My sister liked to make up sensational stories and blame me for stuff I didn’t do. I wouldn’t put it past her to file a police report for hurting her in some way.
Jerk .