Chapter 10
Venus
I race home in an unrestrained panic, itching to create distance between us.
I twist the wheel in my hands until my fingers throb and my rings pinch.
I need the pain, want the pain, desperate for a distraction.
I am livid and devastated, caught in an emotional tidal wave.
Furious at my father. Sad for me. Desperately sorry for Henry.
Embarrassed because I surely embarrassed him, especially if that redhead was his girlfriend… or wife.
I refuse to think about that.
This is why I hate emotions—they come on so inconveniently. They barge in, uninvited, unplanned, and unwanted, and seize control. A hostile takeover. Why couldn’t I speak to him like a normal person instead of running away?
The look on his face… he hates me. Henry truly and utterly hates me.
Tears blur my vision as I turn onto our street and then down the dirt lane leading to the fairy house. Dust kicks up behind the tires as I barrel down the path and come to a jolting stop, crooked, in Dad’s usual space. I slam the door shut and race up the deck.
Inside the house, I start grabbing things.
My journal from the kitchen table.
My pouch of pencils, pens, and markers.
My clothes, scattered on the floor.
I retrieve my hammock and blanket.
I’m haphazardly filling my suitcase when I hear the front door open.
It barely registers that someone has entered the house.
I don’t care. I keep stuffing items in, desperate to be on the next flight out of here, no matter where it takes me.
On the plane, I’ll make a plan when I can think, when I can breathe—
“Venus, are you okay?”
Ivy’s soft voice makes my shoulders jerk. I don’t look up. I don’t say anything.
In my periphery, I see her move further into the room, but slowly, like I’m a feral animal she’s afraid to approach.
“Venus, what’re you doing?”
“Leave me alone, Ivy.”
“Dad shouldn’t have done that,” she says. “You saw Henry? What happened?”
I groan, my fingernails digging into my palms as my hands fist. “Isn’t it nice how you two are so close? That my business spreads through the household like a damn brushfire.”
“You left us, Venus,” she returns, keeping her calm tone like Dad would. “You’re the one who rarely took our calls or answered our texts. You shut us out.”
“No one wants me here!” My harsh tone mirrors the bitterness inside me and masks the sadness—more feelings I don’t want.
“Don’t act like you weren’t relieved that I wasn’t around to embarrass you—what was it you told your friends?
That I was only your half-sister? Please spare me the sisterly concern.
You were both grateful to see the back of me.
You didn’t even want me here the other night. ”
“Of course, I did!” She plops onto the bed’s edge with a defined slump.
“The other night was meant to be about Gil and me. So, yes, the night became, understandably, about you, and that made me nervous… I really like him, Venus. And he has this annoyingly conventional family, and they’re all extremely loving and close.
I worried that ours would seem awkward to him. You know?”
My tense shoulders soften slightly. “Yes, I understand that feeling.”
“But, you’re right. I could’ve been a better sister back then. I am sorry. It’s just sometimes you were…”
“Difficult. I get it,” I fume, shoving more clothes into my bag.
“Smart, creative, adventurous, but yes, at times, difficult. And too direct. You told my best friend that you suspected her father was an alcoholic based on his driving skills in the carline.”
“He was inconsistent and swervy.”
“And remember, Connor, the boy I liked? You informed him that it wouldn’t work out between us because he was too dumb for me.”
“He was, Ivy.”
“Okay, he was. But you shouldn’t have said that. What if I wanted a dumb boy right then?” Her lips curl into a coy grin.
I smirk. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“I get that it was your way of watching out for me. But sometimes, your directness was… too direct. You didn’t give anyone a chance.”
Her words align with Dad’s. You didn’t give them a chance to love you. My anger relents behind consideration. Perhaps their observation is valid.
“We want you here. I want you here. I want us to be full sisters. But you have to give us a chance,” she says. “You can’t run at every little hiccup.”
“A hiccup? It’s more like a… brain aneurysm.”
A light sigh slips from her. “Please, Venus. Tell me what happened with Henry.”
Hearing her say his name again, so gently, shakes my emotions loose, like she’s tipped over a jar of marbles. Tears plummet from my eyes suddenly and with such force that my knees buckle. Ivy catches me and pulls me close. I bury my face in her satin hair and inhale the scent of jasmine.
“He hates me,” I blubber. “He hates me.”
“He said that?”
“No, but…” I shake my head against her. “I. I. I can’t be here anymore.”
She rocks me against her, rubbing my back in small, consoling circles. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
But her words remind me of Henry, too, bringing both comfort and despair.
I feel like I’ve charged straight into a storm, dodging lightning bolts all around me—seeing Henry, his anguish, Ivy’s presence, Dad’s trick, my sadness and loneliness now raw and stinging, all of this terrible vulnerability. Hit after hit after hit.
“Breathe,” she whispers. “It’s all okay… or it will be.”
“How?”
She sighs against me. We’re still embracing? The realization sneaks through my distress, but I don’t pull away.
“Let’s operate in facts. Shall we? The fact is…” she begins after a moment. “You shouldn’t make any decisions about leaving while you’re upset.”
I nod into her shoulder and mumble, “Um, that’s logical.”
“Okay, we’ve got this. Do you trust me enough to try something?”
I nod again and relax away from her grasp.
“Deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system, promoting relaxation. I call it Ins and Outs. Let’s start there. In…”
She motions toward her deep inhale. Her chest rises, and her shoulders square. I doubt its efficacy, but desperate to stop the onslaught of tears, I follow her instructions.
“Out…” she breathes softly, watching me. “In…”
Several rounds of deep breathing later, the tension eases away.
“Tears have stopped… good,” she offers a weak smile. “Now, let’s add a muscle relaxation technique that I call Mighty Tighty, Loosey Goosey.”
I groan over the silly name.
She smirks. “Don’t judge. It works. I’m going to say a body part. Then, we’re going to tense those muscles—only those muscles—and then relax them again. Let’s start with our feet.”
My toes curl in my boots as I follow her instructions. Tensing and releasing. Focusing on something other than my heart breaking all over again. We move up our bodies—feet, to calves, to knees, and so on up to our hands and shoulders. By the time we roll our necks, I feel centered.
“Now, close your eyes, and imagine something peaceful,” she instructs. “It could be a place, a garden, a forest, anything that fills you and lets you breathe.”
We stand in silence, breathing and imagining, and she whispers, “Where are you?”
“In a rainstorm. Thunder and lightning. Smells of wet pine and the sounds of battered leaves. The rough bark on the branches of our lean-to. Henry holding me tight,” I respond dreamily, hypnotized by her soft voice.
“Hmm.” She says it just like Dad.
“Where are you?” I breathe out curiously.
“The beach, gritty sand and salty air, warm skin and suntan lotion, and Gil, smiling beside me. I actually got him there recently. That was a feat. He has an anxiety disorder. He tries to hide it, but I know.”
She takes another deep breath, places her hands on my shoulders, and slides them down my arms over my bracelets and rings to hold my hands. “Open your eyes. Feel better?”
“I do. Thank you.”
She smiles. “He doesn’t hate you, Venus. It was a surprise, that’s all.”
“How do you know?”
She drops my hands and holds up her phone. “Henry’s business consultant, Marnie, is Gil’s sister-in-law and my best friend. She’s the reason I knew you needed me. She texted me as soon as you left.”
I collapse to the bed’s edge. “The redhead?”
“Isn’t she adorable?” Ivy coos. “You’ll have to come to a Tripp family game night and meet them all.”
“Um, I thought she might’ve been with Henry. It was all so confusing. Is he okay? From his asthma attack?”
“Yes, he’s fine. And Henry’s single… since you’re wondering.”
Another tear slips loose, and I wipe it away. “All I do is hurt him.”
“It’s not your fault. Dad saw your journal and the notes to Henry. It’s his twisted way of helping. He knew you wouldn’t go on your own.”
“For good reason. Henry doesn’t want to see me.”
Ivy’s head tilts as she considers this. “He misses you, too.”
“What? How would you know that?”
“He told Marnie. She told me. Insider knowledge is another perk of having friends. She’s helping him revamp his uncle’s curiosity museum, and you came up when they were discussing the garden.
He’s still angry about how you left. You devastated him.
I heard he barely made it through his freshman year for all the partying, but he got his act together. He had to—”
“Dad didn’t report that he was having a hard time—I asked.”
She shrugs. “He was doing what was best for you at the time. You wanted space. He gave it to you.”
“This is why he regrets sending me away.”
“Yep. Well, partly. We also missed you, dummy.” She starts folding my clothes from the pile on the suitcase. I follow suit, realizing the terrible mess I’ve made.
Ivy goes to the closet for hangers. “Dad had to explain it to Henry, remember? Poor guy. I never knew he was that hung up on you. He always seemed detached at school. The sex must’ve been amazing.”
“We never had sex,” I say weakly. “Well, we pleasured each other once. No penetration.”
She stops fussing with my clothes to give me a disappointed stare. “Um, how romantic?”