Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
LINDSEY
I’ve missed my sister. I think Brooks has also missed Hunter. When Renleigh called to let me know they’re coming to town for a few days, he lit up like he hasn’t in days.
Meeting with Pen was hard on him. He came back from his breakfast meet-up with this invisible weight on his shoulders.
He was gone for a while, so I’m not sure how intense their conversation got, but he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.
At least, not for the last three nights that he’s snuck into my room.
He just wants to hold me to his chest and stroke my hair.
I’m not complaining. But I still feel this vice grip on my chest, like something’s wrong.
It’s probably my anxiety leading to my divorce being finalized.
Brandon has been radio silent since I chewed him out at the ballpark and told him to stop taking his jealousy out on our boys.
He didn’t deny he was jealous. But he also made sure to tell me that Caitlyn was not living with him, despite anything I’d heard.
I hadn’t heard that, actually. I simply assumed since the boys always described her being in the house, sleeping in daddy’s bed with him, waking up in one of his T-shirts, and walking around in her underwear in front of them. Good thing they’re only four!
Thing is, I don’t even care if Caitlyn is living there.
Not anymore. What I care about is the hypocrisy, that he can behave one way, yet I can’t.
Truthfully? All of it is wearing me down.
And all I want to do is tell my sister about Brooks, and what he said, and how I may be in love with him, too.
But on the chance my battle with Brandon gets uglier, I don’t want my sister to have to lie for me.
Right now, she has plausible deniability.
As far as she knows, I’m the nanny. Full stop.
I’m not happy about how comfortable I’ve become with lying myself.
It makes me feel dirty, and not in the fun way.
I suspect that’s why I’ve had a few panic attacks lately.
I start to think about what people see, what they assume, and the stories I need to make up to cover it all up. It’s too much. All of it.
Which is why this glass of wine and my sister’s company is the single greatest birthday gift I could dream of.
The big two-seven. It’s not a milestone number, but for me, this year is significant.
It was a year of change, and a lot of growth.
I’ve found my voice in many ways, and I’ve started saying yes to the things I want.
Not just Brooks, but school, and the idea of maybe getting a job doing stuff my mom did for years.
I sit back and prop my feet on the wooden table as my sister does the same.
“You remember how we always wanted to live in this house when we were kids?” she says.
I chuckle and glance around the porch space.
I’ve made a few improvements, even though it’s just a rental for us.
The woven rug, the potted plants, and dad’s old wind chimes.
Brooks can’t stand them, I can tell. When we’re out here at night, he takes them down and tells me it’s because he can’t concentrate on me fully with the distraction.
He always hangs them back up, though, because he knows I love them.
It’s the little things. And he does so many little things.
“You know, he’s probably going to get called up next year, then this dream house of ours goes—” I mouth the word poof and fan out my fingers.
“Hmm, we’ll see,” Renleigh says, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. I match her glare with my own.
“What? You don’t think he’ll get called up?” My chest tightens a bit. I fear she has heard a rumor, such as him getting cut. That’s not likely given his stellar season, but still . . . this game is also a business. It would devastate him.
“No, nothing like that. I’m sure he will. I just . . . I think he kind of likes this place. Hunter does, too. I have a feeling he’ll want to make some roots here is all.”
I nod, keeping my eyes on her so I can read how her expression changes. My sister isn’t stupid. She has to see beyond the surface when it comes to Brooks and me. But she’s always been better at bluffing. And right now, she’s not giving me a clue.
We sip from our glasses, and she fills me in on life in Texas and what it’s like to sit with the wives at the stadium.
I bet she becomes one herself before too long, and I love that for her.
My sister didn’t believe in love for a long time.
She resented our mom for leaving us to spread her career wings.
It’s a little fucked up, sure, but also, having been put in a box and limited myself, I sort of admire her for knowing she wouldn’t be fulfilled as a stay-at-home mom.
“I’m thinking of going into campaign work.
Sort of like Mom. After I graduate, of course.
” Renleigh’s gaze tightens, and her mouth pulls in.
“I know how you feel. Complicated shit for you; I get it. But I’ve been learning about some of her early campaign work, talking to her a lot, and it kind of excites me. ”
Renleigh leans back as she exhales, and I can tell she’s still disappointed.
I drain the last drops of wine from my glass and set it on the table before moving to the cushioned outdoor loveseat next to my sister.
I put an arm around her and squeeze her to me, which I realize while in the act is another thing she’s not really hip on—being hugged.
Unless it’s by Hunter. I hold on anyhow because pissing her off is my job.
So is pushing her to do things she’s afraid of.
“You should spend some time with Mom while you’re here. I’m not saying you have to forgive the shit she did. But maybe you’ll understand it a little. It might be good for you. Help you pack away some raw feelings and find closure and shit.”
Renleigh laughs at my side, then tilts her head until it rests on mine.
“Closure and shit. I’m going to use that in a toast to Mom when they celebrate their wedding anniversary,” my sister says, and I know that it’s really a promise.
“You can credit me in the footnotes.”
We giggle, and my sister rehearses her pretend speech, blasting through a few favorite sore spots from her childhood, including the time our dad joined her for the Muffins with Mom event at our grade school.
By the end of her monologue, she does admit that she’s been talking to Mom more than I realize.
I don’t pry, but I’m glad to hear it. One of these days, that boyfriend of hers is going to propose, and she needs to be in a good headspace to say yes.
Holly starts to cry, so I head into the house to check on her, and Renleigh cleans up our glasses, rinsing them in the sink and stowing our bottle of wine away for her next visit, which I hope is soon.
“Where are my rugrats, by the way? Are they at the asshole’s place?” Renleigh, like my father, has never really loved Brandon.
“No, they have pre-school. It’s been a blessing. I can’t wait for all-day kindergarten. I mean, I love being super mom, but those two exhaust me. When they get home, we’re going to the park to celebrate my birthday, and that somehow means I’m going to have a sunburn and loads of sand in my hair.”
Renleigh chuckles as she slides up next to me, leaning over Holly while I check her diaper. She’s being fussy but she feels dry, so I pick her up and bounce her at my side a bit. It seems to settle her.
“You’re great with her. With all babies, really. It’s one of your many superpowers, Sis.” Renleigh squeezes me with a hug she initiates, and I revel in it for the few seconds it lasts.
“You know, I would make a great aunt one day . . .” I begin. My greatest superpower is nagging my sister.
“And we’re done here,” Renleigh says, blowing me a kiss as she leaves the house.
Brooks went down to the river with Hunter. The two of them are fishing, which is amusing since they both suck at it. But my father set them up with his old gear, and I think the trip was more about getting in some quality guy time.
I turn on some music since Holly seems ready to play, and bop around the living room with her on my hip.
We pretend to dance, and I try to two-step on my own with her affixed to my side.
I’m lost in the moment when I spin around and come face to face with Brooks’s father, standing in the foyer with a gun held at his side.
I scream and immediate step back several paces, holding Holly to my side and turning my body to shield her. I feel like I might pass out, but that wouldn’t help either of us, so I lean my weight against the kitchen table and scan my surroundings for anything sharp, or pointy, or heavy.
“I’m not here to hurt you. I just need to know where the money is,” he says.
My eyes lose focus and I swallow the instant dry lump in my throat.
“What money?” Is he talking about Brooks’s signing bonus? He can’t possibly think that’s how this works.
I reach for my purse, and he lifts the gun, waving it at my hand.
“Don’t do that. You stay still.”
I nod, my entire body vibrating.
“I was going to give you my wallet. I don’t have much, maybe forty bucks. But you can take my bank card. And there’s a nice watch in there. One of those that connects to your phone. It’s not a name brand; it’s a cheap knockoff. You can have it, though. Maybe sell it?”
My eyelids flutter as fear pricks at the corners of my eyes. I feel the tear form.
“Oh, God. What do you want?”
“I need Brooks to give me the money. Where is he?”
His father’s pupils seem larger than normal, and he keeps scratching at the arm holding the gun. If I didn’t have Holly, I could maybe take him down, or at least run away. But I can’t risk anything happening to her.
“He’s out. But I can call him. I just need my phone,” I say, glancing to my purse.
His father takes a few steps toward me and I flinch, but he ends up dumping my purse on the table and pulling my phone out to hand to me.
“Call him.”
I nod, my hand flailing as my fingers try to work. I consider pressing the emergency button, but again, that gun is probably loaded. And his dad isn’t right in the head. I’m pretty sure he’s in withdrawals or having a full-on meth-induced delusion.
I manage to press Brooks’s name, and his father snatches the phone from my hand, putting it on speaker. Brooks answers after two rings.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“It’s your dad. I’m here at your house. And I want my fucking money.”
He ends the call and tosses the phone toward the kitchen sink. It bangs against the counter and lands in the iron basin, and I’m pretty sure I heard the screen crack.
“Now, we wait,” he says, fanning the gun at me and Holly. I think he’s telling me to sit down.
I pull the closest chair out and sit in it, and Holly wails as if reading the fear emanating from my body.
“Shut her up,” he barks.
I nod and cry, wishing I could yell back that babies don’t work like that.
Instead, I hush her and do my best to smile through my pained face.
My phone vibrates against the sink, and I’m sure it’s Brooks calling me back.
I mentally calculate how long it will take him to get home.
Too long, for certain. But I can survive this.
I will keep Holly safe. What’s forty minutes when a full life is waiting on the other side?