28
Days have passed since everything imploded.
I haven’t turned on my phone once since we left Charleston. I’ve been taking comfort in a small cottage on the coast of Connecticut, away from Anders, Mathew, or anyone else—just Taina and the lake surrounding us.
It felt wrong to leave everything so messy, without a word, but I’m too much of a coward to face anyone—especially Anders.
All I could do was leave him a handwritten letter, filled with apologies and my wish to have done better, to have been better, to be better.
I told him Mathew was right: everything I touch shatters into something horrible.
It’s better this way—before I break everything beyond repair.
I left another letter for Valerie, explaining it was entirely my fault, my plan, and that Anders had nothing to do with it.
(I gave Anders a heads-up in his letter, so he’d know he could throw all the blame my way and repair his relationship with his sister.) I told them I was sorry, and I wrote the same to Bethany and Olive, telling them they deserved better.
A coward’s way out—leaving it to Taina to put the letters in their mailbox. Proving Mathew’s point that I rely on her too much. But I’m so incredibly fragile that any conversation puts me at risk of spiraling.
That’s not why Taina has barely spoken to me all these days, though I pretend it is. I know it’s because she has so much she wants to say, she can’t process it all at once, at least not in the beginning. Now, she waits for an opening—one where she feels I won’t break.
And I’m not sure when that will ever happen again.
Instead of facing anything, I rock on a wooden chair overlooking the lake, surrounded by thick trees and untamed grass. The soft night wind sends ripples through the water, the setting sun dipping into the center of it.
There’s only one chair out here, on the dock at the foot of the cottage.
That’s probably why Taina—who catches my attention with the sound of wood scraping against concrete—is dragging a dining room chair. When she reaches the dock, the scratching sound eases.
She places the chair directly in front of me, blocking my peaceful view.
“We need to talk.”
“Okay.”
She narrows her eyes. With the glow of the sunset behind her, her hair uncharacteristically pinned into a bun, she looks so naturally beautiful it steals my breath.
“Don’t sound so defeatist already,” she says. “We’re talking, not arguing.”
“Then why is the vein at the side of your forehead making an appearance?”
Her eye twitches. “Maybe because my wonderful, agitating sister somehow still manages to be a smart-ass even while being depressed.”
“A truly useless talent.”
“You know I’m mad at you,” Taina says, getting straight to it. “I’ve never been angrier with you than I am now. You know that, right?”
My gaze drops to her bare feet as I nod.
“Good. So let’s skip to the point.” She grabs my ear, pinching until I lift my head to face her.
“You should’ve told me as soon as Mathew approached you.
” She shakes her head. “No—if he felt comfortable threatening you, he’s already spoken to you before.
He’s already made you feel bad about yourself.
You should’ve told me the second he so much as gave you a dirty look. ”
“He’s not entirely wrong,” I say, hating to defend him—and hating that I mean it. “Recently, I’ve been ruining everything. And I’ve been a thorn in your marriage. He told me about the therapy. About your nightmares.”
Both her eyes twitch this time. “Those are things he never should’ve told you.”
“So you can keep secrets, but I can’t?”
“My secrets were to protect you.”
“So were mine!” I jump at the sound of my voice skyrocketing. I’ve been in this numb, leveled, faded calmness for days—just letting time pass without feeling too much. But now, heat and emotion rise to the surface too quickly to suppress; an unexpected tsunami after an earthquake.
“If someone hurt me, and I didn’t tell you,” Taina says, “you’d kill me.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing? Hurting you? Should I fling myself into this lake?”
“Be serious, Lucy.”
“I am,” I say, my feet tingling. “I’m supposed to be the older sister. I’m supposed to take care of you. I shouldn’t be the reason for your stress or anxiety. I shouldn’t be a nuisance in your marriage. I should be able to take care of myself.”
“Lucy—” She tries to grab my hand, but I stand and rush to the edge of the dock.
“Lucy,” she repeats, standing beside me, gazing out at the water. “The only reason I can take care of myself is because of you. You think I don’t know everything you’ve sacrificed? You’re my sister—not my mom.”
I open my mouth, but she holds up a hand.
“You shouldn’t have had to work multiple jobs as a teenager.
You should’ve been able to go to school without a single worry beyond picking out an outfit.
Our parents should’ve taken out loans so you could go to college without having to do anything but study.
They should’ve helped you find an apartment so you could get internships and find a job through them.
They should’ve been around to tell you your exes were trash and forced you to break up.
They should’ve called you over for family dinners and vacations with all the free time you should’ve had. ”
She grabs my hand and makes me face her. The tears in her eyes tighten something in my chest like a frayed rope pulling taut.
“I got to do all that because of you. Your life should be vastly different. But you gave up everything to take care of me, and you never complained. I am who I am because of you. And I could never—will never—be happy if you feel like your presence in my life has been anything less than the best gift I’ve ever received.
This world has been cruel to us both, but I can forgive it for one reason: It gave me you as my sister. ”
“Taina . . .” My voice breaks, and she tightens her grip on my hands. The pain of it finally pushes the tears out.
“Do I think Mathew is an evil, vile man who deserves to die?” she says. “No, I don’t. But could I love a man who casts aside the person who made me who I am—the person who’s the reason I even met him—without resentment? No. Lucy, I love you more than anyone. Ever. Period.”
“That’s not fair to you,” I start.
“You don’t get a say in what’s fair to me—or anyone,” Taina says.
“It might pain you to remember this, but I am an adult. You helped me grow, but now I am my own person. I make my own decisions. I decide what’s important to me.
I decide what’s fair. I decide what I can tolerate.
You always want to fix things before they break, so you don’t know this—but sometimes, breaking isn’t the end.
Breaking lets people learn they can pick up the pieces, no matter how jagged, and put them back together in any way they want.
Let people break, Lucy.” She places her hands on my cheeks. “Let yourself break.”
A small cry escapes me before my not-so-little-anymore sister wraps her arms around me. She rubs my back, hushing me as I cry—until the sun fully sinks into the lake and the moon takes its shift in the sky.
I’m not sure if I can put my jagged pieces back together—at least not in a beautiful, bright way like Taina can. There are so many pieces, shattered and reflecting back at me, looking like nothing more than failures.
But if I move them around, will it be less painful?
Where do I even begin?
When my breathing finally evens out, Taina sits me down and takes the seat beside me. It’s a little embarrassing, crying like this in front of her. But now that I’ve done it, my shoulders feel a little lighter.
The silence embraces us until Taina says, “So . . .” She stretches the word. “What’s your next move? Are you going to talk to Anders? Are you going to tell Joshua you’re buying his share of Save a Paw? Are you going to go AWOL and send me postcards from around the world while I search for you?”
“What’s your next move?” I counter. “Mathew’s probably trying to find you. Did you turn your location off? Otherwise he would’ve shown up by now, wouldn’t he?”
“I know exactly what my next move is, and he’s lucky it isn’t murder,” she says. “But I’m asking you, Lucy. What’s next? You can’t hide forever.”
I blow out a breath. “I didn’t ruin the wedding. I’m not getting paid. And I’m not sure Anders—after everything—should give me a dime.”
Taina purses her lips. “He already did. He paid you everything he said he would.”
I freeze. “Excuse me?”
“I turned on your phone.” She shrugs. “We weren’t talking, and the Wi-Fi sucks here. I was bored. And nosy. He’s been trying to reach you, but I haven’t answered his calls or anything.”
“Just looked through all his messages?”
She smiles, unashamed. “He’s upset about a lot, but he thinks you still deserve the money. The chance for your dream to come true. Even mad, he still sees good in you. I’m not sure that’s a man you should ignore, Lucy.”
“I—” The words catch in my throat as another wave of tears comes.
“That’s okay,” Taina says, patting my back. “Get them all out.”
Anders thinks I still deserve a good life. But I’m not sure if I deserve kindness. Did I do enough to earn it? Was what we had enough to sustain some kind of fondness between us?
For me, of course. Absolutely. But for Anders?
This gift is both heavy and painful—but I’m so grateful.
And it hurts too. It’s only been a couple of days, but I miss Anders—his easy way, the comfort he brings, the way he makes me feel confident and funny and adored and loved.
Love? Is that why this hurts so much?
Knowing I messed things up in such a humiliating way that it will never look the same again?
And now that everything’s blown up, is Anders seeing me in a different light? In shades of color he hadn’t seen before?
Does he like what he sees with all of them together?
I’m not sure I’m ready to find out.
“I think,” I say between tears. “I think I need some time to myself.”
“Then take it. As much as you need.”
“But not from you,” I say, leaning on my sister—without guilt, without shame. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Oh, big sis.” Taina pinches my cheek. “You’d have to kill me to get rid of me.”
I laugh—and some of the pain eases at the sound. At the reminder that I am more than one color, more than just broken pieces.