Ray
Wade’s sentiment to go easy on Izzy told me she’d been more forthcoming with him over what was bothering her than she ever would have been with me.
I had a feeling her outburst hadn’t just stemmed from some first-year bronc rider getting handsy, like Hayes had said when I asked if he knew what had set her off.
The ride back to Izzy’s place was quiet.
She lived on the outskirts of town in a duplex she and Tanner had bought together.
Although he was rarely there, leaving her to take care of the house alone after long stints on the road.
Tension hung heavily in the air, blanketing everything in a haze that felt oppressive.
As her big sister, I wanted to heal whatever was hurting her, but I knew Izzy wasn’t a child anymore and could fend for herself.
Realistically, she hadn’t been a child at all when Mom had died, and we’d all been forced to grow up before our time. Although we were only a little over a year apart, there was a weighted expectation thrust upon me that she’d been spared.
The difference between eleven and thirteen hadn’t been any clearer when she got to choose her life path. Being the oldest meant I didn’t get to choose.
As we pulled up to the duplex, Wade had barely stopped the truck when Izzy was launching the door open and stepping out. I watched her stumble toward the front door, pulling her keys out of her pocket as she swayed from side to side on the thin sidewalk.
It gutted me to see her so dejected. She was drunk off her ass, which wasn’t common for my straitlaced sister. Whatever had set her off tonight must have been major enough to warrant the chance of throwing her entire career away.
I turned in my seat, facing Wade, a look of pure apology on my face. I knew we needed to talk about what had happened outside of Jack’s, but at this moment, my sister needed me more.
“Go,” he commanded, hiking his chin toward Izzy’s door as we both watched her feeble attempt at shoving her key in the lock. It was almost painful to watch her struggle with such a mundane task.
I reached across the center console and gently squeezed his muscled forearm. “Thank you,” I sighed.
I warred within myself on whether I should lean over and kiss him, but without knowing where we stood, I didn’t want to cross that line and make things more awkward than they already were.
As soon as I closed the door to his truck, he was speeding away toward the ranch. I felt torn between the man that I had grown up loving and the girl I had grown up raising. But right now, my sister needed me, and Wade would have to understand.
We had been dancing around our feelings for the better part of fifteen years, so what was one more night of ignoring the inevitable?
Somehow, Izzy had managed to find the right key and fit it into the lock, letting herself inside. She hadn’t bothered closing the door behind her, probably knowing I wasn’t going to let her off without talking about whatever had happened at Jack’s.
I followed behind her, letting myself in and closing the door behind me with a soft click. I flipped the deadbolt, since it was evident that neither of us was going anywhere this evening.
I found my sister stomping around the kitchen, attempting to get her boots off but failing miserably as she ping-ponged from one set of cabinets to the other. With each thud against the wooden doors, I wondered how many hits they could take before they broke.
Heaving one last valiant tug and an animalistic grunt, she gave up attempting to get her boots off, sinking to the floor in defeat. I watched as all the fight and bravado she’d been hiding behind drained out of her in the form of two rivers of tears tracking down her cheeks.
I sank down across from her; me propped up against the island and her against the cabinets. The space between us felt like an uncrossable canyon.
Looking at the broken and defeated woman sitting opposite me, I was met with the image of the little girl I’d tried so hard to shield from the harsh realities of the world.
Without speaking, I grabbed one of her feet and tugged off her boots one by one, setting them upright beside me. I let her pull her legs back up toward her body and wrap her arms around them. The vibrant and fearless cowgirl I so admired was nowhere to be found.
“?Quieres hablar de ello?” Do you want to talk about it? I asked softly, knowing that Izzy would understand, as she was one of the few siblings who could fluently converse with me in Spanish.
It often felt like a special bond between us, having grown up completely bilingual. It wasn’t something we shared with most of the other siblings and was exceptionally special after our mom died, as she had been the one pushing us all to learn.
“En realidad no.” Not really.
The war between giving her the space I knew she wanted and trying to fix whatever was eating her up was overwhelming.
I wanted to know who I could hunt down and bury for turning my sister into this shell of the girl sitting before me, but also, I knew she was old enough and scrappy enough to fight her own battles.
We sat in silence for a few beats before either of us found the voice to speak.
Barely perceptible, I heard my sister whisper, “It’s exhausting.”
“What is?” I asked, confused. I wasn’t sure if the alcohol was catching up and she was getting tired, or if she was making the moves to open up to me. I truly hoped it was the latter but expected the former.
“Living in your shadow.”
Her words hit me like a knife to the chest, and I fought for a response as my mouth gaped open and closed. It was as if my brain had malfunctioned, and I couldn’t formulate any semblance of a response.
Living in my shadow? How could she possibly think that? She was the one making it big in the rodeo. She was the one with a big-wig fiancé who was one test away from becoming a practicing attorney. If anyone was living in anyone’s shadow, it was me living in hers.
“Good talk,” she spat as she pushed to stand, taking my silence as an adequate response, wobbling even as she held onto the counter.
Having finally found my voice, I stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Now, wait a damn minute.” She turned to face me, and I could practically see the flames flickering at the edge of her vision, itching for a fight.
I had a feeling that the hate and anger she was feeling had more to do with a culmination of things, but if she needed to get something off her chest, now was as good a time as any.
I had already prepared myself for a battle tonight.
I’d just expected it to be with a broody, six-foot-two cowboy instead of my little sister.
She flung her arm from my grasp, turning to face me fully, standing to her full height.
I hadn’t been blessed with the tall genes in our family, but Izzy sure had.
She stood at a whopping five feet nine and towered over my five-foot-four frame.
She did her best to look intimidating, but all I could see was my sister—scared, hurt, and in obvious mental anguish.
“No, you wait a damn minute. You don’t get to talk to me like you’re my mother. YOU ARE NOT HER.”
“I’m not trying to mother you, Izzy. I’m just concerned.”
“Oh, now you’re concerned? Daddy’s little golden child isn’t the center of fucking attention anymore, so you need to make this all about you.”
I reared back, her words striking as she spat them. “That’s not fair.”
Even though she stood opposite me, I felt each of her words hit like a punch. She had clearly been building up for an emotional release, and whatever had set her off this evening acted as the catalyst.
The one thing family knew how to do better than anyone else? Hurt you.
I steeled my spine in preparation for a screaming match. It wouldn’t have been our first and probably wouldn’t be our last.
I knew that at her core, Izzy didn’t mean the hateful words that were spewing from her mouth unchecked.
The alcohol had taken away her filter, and she was using me as her verbal punching bag.
If that’s what she needed, I’d take every hit and jab ten times over to spare her the pain of feeling things so deeply.
Deep down, I knew her contempt for me wasn’t the reason she had started that fight at Jack’s, but if she needed to hash this out, I was here and ready to take it.
“You’ve got it all. The job, the free rent, the freedom, Dad’s attention, the guy, everything I’ve ever wanted.
Meanwhile, I’ve had to work for every single ounce of everything I’ve got.
I threw myself into the rodeo, hoping he would see me.
I moved out in hopes that he would visit.
I even settled down with a respectable guy in hopes that he would finally see me as more than just the wild child with a wayward heart.
But no, I’m still here, fighting through my daddy issues while you get everything handed to you. ”
The fact that she thought I’d had everything handed to me led me to believe I’d sheltered my sister more than I probably should have.
I’d spent the last fifteen years making sure she had the ability to chase her dreams, no matter how far-fetched they seemed. What I’d done instead was make it seem as if she needed to work harder, train longer, and do better to be respected and loved by the men in her life.
What she failed to remember were all the times I’d spent late nights reading bedtime stories to the twins, hoping they would fall asleep quickly so I could log onto my online community college and work on my degree.
The time I skipped partying with my friends for my twenty-first birthday because Benny had come home from school with a stomach bug, when Dad had to be on duty.
She didn’t see that I was the one moving money around accounts to make sure the lights stayed on, the water ran hot, and the kids’ sports fees were paid for because our dad worked so much, he’d forget.
If anyone should have been angry, it should have been me. But Izzy was right. This wasn’t about me, and nothing I could say tonight would change the way she felt—especially as the tequila worked its way through her system.
She didn’t bother waiting for a response. She knew there was nothing that I could have said to make all the pain she was feeling go away. Turning toward the stairs leading up to her room, she stopped and said softly over her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”
I knew she meant it more for the fact that she had just verbally assaulted me, throwing around years of harbored anger, but there was a tinge of sadness that laced the words, and I knew there was a double meaning behind the sentiment.
Nodding, I watched her back as she retreated, making sure she got herself up the stairs without incident.
Content that Izzy could fend for herself for the night, I grabbed a weathered quilt from the hall closet and padded my way over to the sofa. I lay down on the lumpy cushions, trying my best to get comfortable.
Finally, finding a suitable spot, I looked up at the ceiling, the idea of Izzy’s sleeping form snuggled up in her bed above me, floating across my vision.
Closing my eyes, I softly whispered, “Yo también lo siento.” I’m sorry, too.
I let the cool dampness of years of pent-up sadness lull me off to sleep, the trickle of tears a soft reminder that sometimes life isn’t pretty, but it’s sure as hell worth the pain.