Chapter 9
NINE
“What the hell happened in here?”
Calla? My eyes flicked open at the sound of my sister’s voice, praying this was some sort of alternate dimension. After weeks of missing her, I might have been desperate to see her, but I was hoping it would be once I’d gotten my shit together.
In the two weeks since I was fired, I’d been holed up in my apartment, alternating between obsessing over the files Tomas found and wallowing in the pitiful state of my life. Maybe this was some sort of stress-induced hallucination? But as I shoved up my eye mask from my spot on the couch, it became painfully apparent that was not the case.
Calla’s eyes bulged out of her head, and her mouth hung open as she took in my apartment. The last time she was here was right after she moved back upstate, and the place was pristine. There was not a single thing out of place, thanks to my daily maid service and the fact that I spent, at most, three to four hours here each day outside of sleeping.
“Shit,” I hissed as I scurried off the couch, banging my knees on the coffee table, which was definitely not where it was supposed to be. I think . Honestly, at this point, the coffee table could have come to life in the middle of the night, and I would have just shrugged it off. “Calla…what are you doing here?”
“I got nervous. Considering you were calling me fifteen times a day after leaving the lake, it was a little worrisome when you just stopped. We had to be in the city for Theo’s PT appointment, so I thought I’d do a welfare check.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I should’ve come sooner.”
I looked up at her. “I thought you hated me.”
“No,” Calla scoffed. “I could never hate you. Don’t get me wrong—I’m still super pissed you hid something this major from me. But after everything you did with Jack, I can’t stay mad at you.” She held up one of the takeout containers, sniffed it, then turned a shade of green. “This is horrifying on so many levels.”
“It’s fine,” I groaned, dropping my head back down to the pillow. As much as I wanted to engulf my sister in a tight hug, moving was not in the cards for me, not when every movement and sliver of light felt like it was a knife straight into my frontal lobe.
Calla shook her head as she reached down, taking my hands and pulling me to stand. “This is anything but fine, Devyn. Like the time you tried to cut your bangs because Donny Watkins called you a nerd bad.”
“You’re being dramatic.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that bad. It just needs a little…sprucing.”
“Devyn…” Calla drawled as she turned around to face me. “We’re a couple of takeout containers away from me bringing in the crew from Hoarders .”
As I looked around my formerly immaculate apartment, I grimaced, hating how right she was. Magazines, junk food, and empty bottles of wine covered my counters. My practically brand new whisk was still tangled in the chandelier above the dining room table, a remnant of my break-out performance on the coffee table last night, where, after several shots of tequila, I convinced myself I was the next iteration of Taylor Swift. Even my couch had transformed into a shapeless pile of blankets, acting as a fort to keep the rest of the world away.
And none of this had anything on my outfit. Calla’s nose scrunched again as she looked at me, taking in the mismatched neon knee highs and my RBG classic tee. I’d piled my hair on top of my head in a haphazard bun, held together by a leopard print scrunchy that probably belonged to Calla at some point.
And maybe, in the past, all this would have been a source of great shame for me.
However, on this cold, dreary Tuesday morning, I could not give a single, microscopic fuck.
Usually, at this time, I would have already been at the office for hours, my blurry eyes attempting to read through yet another brief, hoping to impress senior management. As a senior associate, my life was a balancing act. On one side, I had to stay under the radar enough not to earn any of the partners’ wrath while also trying to stand out from the crowd. However, with twenty other associates hoping to do the same thing, there was a lot of pressure to stay on top of your game. Too many of my colleagues resorted to back-handed tactics—morals and ethical dilemmas be damned. Those attributes tended to be more of a weakness than an asset in our world. Being a young lawyer is a dog-eat-dog world, and looking at me now, I was definitely yesterday’s meal.
“Okay, I totally came down here to chew you out for keeping something so huge from me,” Calla sighed. “But clearly, you are in desperate need of an intervention.”
“I am fine ,” I insisted, shifting my hair down from the top of my head. Okay, yeah…that’s just a little bit crusty. I shook off the thought, throwing it all back up in a bun before she could notice. “I am just enjoying this time of transition, exploring all the new possibilities that await me.”
“Are you high?”
“No, Mom,” I scoffed. “I am not high. I am…weightless.” I shifted past her into the kitchen. If I was going to get a lecture from my baby sister, I was going to need a very, very strong drink. As I dug through my fridge, I continued, “I have been stuck at that fucking bloodsucking law firm for years. And now, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I have nothing to do: no work, no demands, no bullshit commitments. So yeah, maybe I’m taking some time off from my usual self, but is that really so bad?” I snapped my fingers—big mistake. The pounding in my head now resembled a pack of wild horses. I rubbed my eyes, then looked at Calla, a false confidence filling my veins. “Maybe this is the fresh start I needed. Devyn 2.0! The cuddly, friendly version, who shits rainbows and hugs babies.”
My sister wrapped her arms around me, and for the first time in days, I felt my body let go of all the weight. I sagged against her, not waiting before squeezing her around the shoulders. It was the kind of embrace you needed when your world was crumbling. We stood there as several silent minutes passed.
“I’m so sorry,” Calla eventually whispered, holding me tight to her chest. “I hate that this happened to you because of me.”
“I don’t,” I said, trying to keep my voice strong. “I don’t regret what I did, not for one minute.” I pulled back, steeling my voice before those traitorous tears tried to force their way out. Never going to happen. I hadn’t cried in years, and there was no way this was going to be the thing that broke me.
I leaned away from Calla, hating the pity and empathy in her eyes. I knew she only meant it in the best way. My little sister was literal sunshine wrapped up in a gorgeous package, but right now, when my world felt like it was seconds away from shattering, it was hard to even look at someone so happy.
“I just need a new plan,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “I’m giving myself to the end of the week to wallow in self-pity, and then I’m going to figure it all out.”
Calla sighed, looking at me like she wanted nothing more than to push past what I was offering. But knowing out of the two of us, I was the more stubborn one, she relented. “What are you thinking? Do you want to try to find a job at another law firm?”
No. My inner voice answered before I could even get the words out. “I don’t think I do,” I said quietly, not sure I believed the answer myself. Corporate law, on paper, was perfect for me. No messy trials, minimal emotional expense. Helping the rich get richer was never my mission; it was never the reason I got out of bed in the morning. But without that stable spine of my career, the options felt daunting, like free-falling without a parachute. I shook my head. “Besides, you know everyone in this city talks, and if David’s gone out of his way to get me fired, he’s probably black-balled me from every reputable firm.”
“I hate him,” Calla said, crossing her arms over her chest. The move made me smile, exposing the baby bump that had finally emerged over the past couple of weeks. Now that Calla was into her second trimester, she was happy to share the news with everyone, but none of it felt real until I saw her with the bump for the first time. Thinking about my future niece made my anger melt a little.
Calla smacked me in the shoulder, “Are you even listening to me?”
“Sorry.” I shook my head. “I was distracted. What were you saying?”
“That maybe you could come stay with us for a while.”
I scoffed, reaching up to grab a glass out of the cabinet. As tempted as I was to pour a giant glass of wine, it felt kind of mean to do that to Calla while she couldn’t enjoy one with me. So, instead, I grabbed the water pitcher and poured us a glass. “No offense, Calla, but there’s no way in hell that’s ever going to happen. Not only because you live in a tiny, not very soundproof apartment, but your space is already going to be invaded in a couple of months. I’m not going to impose during your last ‘bout of freedom.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest. A wicked smile curved on her lips as she turned to face me. “Then maybe you could crash with your husband.”
I held up my finger. “Please don’t start with this.”
“Oh, I’m starting. You’re lucky I waited this long to bring it up,” Calla said. She took her water glass and climbed onto one of the island barstools. She intertwined her fingers and placed them under her chin. “I’m trying to wrap my head around this, Devyn, but I’m struggling. How could you keep this a secret for so long? Does anyone else know?”
“No one really knew,” I said, rubbing my fingers over my throbbing forehead. It had been five years since that night, and I was still trying to figure out how everything got so tangled and messy. “It was a mistake.”
“Was it?” Calla asked. “Because most people, if they think their marriage is a mistake, get divorced. And from what it sounds like, you and Gray are very much married, at least on paper.”
I was all too aware of that fact. But when your husband was a stubborn asshole who refused to sign the divorce papers, even after you sent them four times, it got significantly more challenging.
“Look, it’s a very long story, one I’m not really looking forward to telling. Can we just drop it? At least for now. Once the other aspects of my life are no longer a dumpster fire, then maybe I can talk about that, but right now? I do not have the mental energy to get into it.”
Calla pursed her lips, and I knew it was killing her not to ask for more details. But I wouldn’t budge, not ready to even think about Gray, much less talk about it.
“Okay, fine,” Calla said, shoving off the counter. “But when my world was falling apart, you offered me some tough love and a place to land safely.” Her hand fell to her abdomen. “And it changed my life for the better. So please, listen when I say this. I think you should come home, at least for a little while. Just long enough to figure out your next move. Down here, you’re going to focus on your perceived failings, and I know you, Devyn. You’re not going to be able to move on from that job, and it’ll eat you alive.”
I stared into her dark brown eyes, almost twins of my own. But where my reflection often felt cold and aloof, Calla’s was full of warmth, like a tight hug on a winter’s night. My baby sister was my whole heart, the better half of me. Maybe that was why I hesitated on the word no , unable to say the same thing I’d told every other living soul about moving home again.
Because, in truth, going home was the opposite of what she thought it would be. Moving on had never really been an option, not for me. Not when I’d closed my heart off after everything with Gray, and, despite my best attempts to forget him, he still held the key.
But as I glanced over her shoulder at my computer, I thought about what Tomas had found. Through my digging, I’d managed to unearth some information, but the dots weren’t connecting just yet. All I knew was the files mentioned Saint Stephen’s Lake, and I needed to understand why.
I smiled at Calla and nodded. “I’ll think about it.”