8. Sutton
Chapter eight
Sutton
“That’s the last of it,” Becca says as she shuts the top of the box sitting in front of her, which contains my plates and bowls, and reaches for the packing tape.
I finish wrapping the last of my coffee mugs, an eclectic mix of different sizes and colors, and set it into the box in front of me on the counter.
“What now?” Becca asks, glancing around the kitchen that we’ve spent the morning packing up.
“We should probably see how Hadley’s doing.”
We put our boxes with the others we’ve piled on the kitchen table and head into the living room. My eyes widen. Hadley works fast, evidenced by the five boxes stacked along the wall. She turns to us from where she’s standing in front of my entertainment stand holding a few DVDs and Blu-rays.
“I’m almost done in here,” she says.
“I can see that.” I survey the room.
Before she can say anything, my phone rings. My heart races when I see it’s my sister. She never calls me on a Saturday afternoon. Usually we talk around seven or eight, when we’re both winding down for the night.
“I need to take this,” I tell them before going back into the kitchen.
“Hey you,” I greet my sister.
“Hello, Sutton.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She never greets me like that.
“What’s wrong, Anastasia?”
She blows out a breath, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my leggings. I grab the permanent marker from where I left it on the counter and spin it in my hand, needing something to fidget with.
“Grandmother died earlier this week. The funeral is tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry you have to go through that,” I tell her.
I know she was my grandmother, but I haven’t talked to her in over fifteen years, not since I went no contact with my father.
Even before I cut them off, I didn’t exactly like my grandmother.
Her idea of a woman’s role in society was to have kids and help her husband further his career.
For fuck’s sake. It’s the twenty-first century.
Anastasia mumbles something I can’t make out.
“What did you say?”
She’s silent for a few beats, and the sound of doors closing comes through the phone, then she’s speaking again, this time in a hushed tone.
“He insisted I call you and tell you. I don’t …
I didn’t want to come, but he demanded it …
” She trails off, and I can guess what threats he made if she didn’t do as he asked.
“I’m sorry, Stasia.”
“I know.” She clears her throat. “I wish …”
She doesn’t have to say it, because I can guess what she’s thinking—she wishes she wasn’t at our father’s beck and call the way I’m not.
And the only reason I’m not is because he knows if he tries to threaten me to make me come back, I’ll go to the press with the photographs I have.
Photographs of him with the wife of his business partner.
Photographs that would wreck his business, the only thing he cherishes in life, because he sure doesn’t cherish his children.
“I told you I’ll help you figure it out. Greg too, if he wants.” I don’t talk to Gregory, our youngest brother, much, mostly because he’s busy with college and the crew team. We exchange emails here and there.
“I know you did. I appreciate the offer, but I’m twenty-four, an adult, and I need to figure it out on my own. I’ve been saving money. I got a job. I’m tutoring a few high school kids a couple of days a week.”
“And what does he think you’re doing?”
“Living in the city, taking private tennis lessons, and helping the Women’s Club with their annual fundraisers.” I chuckle. “And I am. But that’s not all I’m doing.”
“Well, I’m here if there’s anything I can do to help. Or if you need a place to stay.” Although I currently don’t have my own place, but that’s neither here nor there. If she needed me, I’d figure it out.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “They’re reading her will on Monday. Father assumes she left everything to him, but I don’t know, she got kind of funny at the end.”
I blink at the abrupt change of conversation, turning over her words. “Funny, how?” Our grandmother was anything but funny. She was a terrible woman who cared about two things—money and status.
“Maybe not funny in the normal sense, but she said some things about how maybe she was wrong about her views. Alluded to wishing Grandfather hadn’t left Father the business. I don’t know … things I’d never heard her say before.”
“Huh.”
“I should go,” she says after a few beats of silence.
“Okay. Love you. Call me if you need me.”
“I love you too, Sutton. Bye.”
The line goes dead, and I set my phone down.
Closing my eyes, I brace my hands on the counter, trying to calm my racing heart.
I do not need any more stress in my life right now.
Between the upheaval of having to move and being pregnant, I’ve reached my max capacity.
I say a silent prayer to anyone or anything in the universe that’s listening that my grandmother’s death doesn’t drag me back into my father’s orbit.
I crack open my eyes. One thing at a time.
First, I have to get everything packed and moved out of here.
Then I’ll figure out how to help my sister, send her money or help her find a job around here.
I don’t know. I know she says she doesn’t need my help, but as the oldest, it feels as though it’s my responsibility to help my younger siblings.
I make my way back into the living room where I find Becca and Hadley hard at work packing. They look up when I walk into the room, and a swell of emotions threatens to overtake me. I swallow down the feelings and give them what I hope is a convincing smile.
“Thank you.” My voice cracks, and I take a shaky breath.
Becca jumps to her feet and hurries over to me, Hadley right behind her.
“What’s wrong?” Becca asks.
I shake my head, and she guides me over to the couch. I take a seat in the middle, Hadley and Becca on either side of me.
“You alright?” Hadley asks.
“That was my sister. Half sister, if we’re being technical.”
“Is everything okay?” Becca asks.
“Our grandmother died earlier this week.”
“Shit,” Hadley mutters.
“I’m sorry,” Becca says, putting her arm around me. “Do you need to go so you can be with your family?”
I shake my head, letting out a watery laugh. “No. I don’t know why I’m upset. I hated the woman.”
“Oh?”
“Fucking hormones.” I rub my face.
I feel Hadley’s eyes on me. Might as well tell her too. “I’m pregnant,” I whisper, dropping a hand to my still mostly flat stomach.
Becca rubs small circles on my back, and it makes me cry even more.
“Are we happy about this?” Hadley asks carefully.
“We are.”
“Who else knows?” she asks.
“Just you two and Sebastian. I’m only eight and a half weeks along, still feels early to tell anyone.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Is he …?”
“No, he’s not the father.” I wish he was, though.
The thought hits me like a ton of bricks, and suddenly I feel as though I can’t breathe.
I wish he were here. He’d know what to do.
How to handle this. I don’t know how I know that, but I just do.
I shouldn’t want him. He’s my temporary roommate.
He plays for the team I work for. I can’t fall for him.
But how the hell am I going to make it through however long living with him without getting more attached to him?
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Hadley says.
I rub my chest, trying to ease the ache, feeling the beginnings of a panic attack.
“It’s gonna be alright,” Becca says, shifting next to me, and I lean into her. “Focus on your breaths,” she says. “Can you inhale for a count of four and exhale for a count of four?”
I nod, unable to form words, and do what she says.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a few minutes when the panic has subsided. “I’m not even upset about my grandmother being dead. Fuck her.” Hadley snorts. “I’m just worried …”
“About?” Becca prompts.
As much as I’m close to everyone on the team, I’ve never talked about my family, but I guess that’s about to change. “That my father is going to try to pull me back into his world again, and I can’t deal with his toxic shit.”
“So don’t,” Hadley says.
“It’s not that easy.” I glance back at Becca.
“My father’s an extremely wealthy man, and he uses his money and power to control people.
To get what he wants. If he had his way, I’d be married to a man he approved of, and I’d have at least three children by now.
” Becca’s eyes widen. “Yep, as bad as it sounds. Let’s just say I figured out a way to get him off my back and out of my life for good.
I haven’t seen him since I was twenty and told him if he ever came near me again or contacted me, I’d ruin his life. ”
“And your sister?”
“Anastasia’s my half sister. My mother died when I was young, and my father eventually remarried when I was ten.
Of course, he chose to marry my mother’s younger sister.
They’re from a ‘well-respected family.’” I put air quotes around the last three words.
“Their father wanted my father’s business to buy his company, hence the marriages.
” I wave a hand around. “My father and stepmother had two children—Anastasia and Gregory. Stasia is twenty-four, and Greg is almost twenty.”
“That’s messed up,” Hadley says.
I snort. “It’s a fucking train wreck.” I drop my head into my hands.
“I’ve spent so much of my adult life trying to figure out how to get my siblings out of this mess.
” I look up at the two women who now know my deepest darkest secret.
“I’m not proud of where I come from. I changed my last name when I left.
St. James is my great-grandmother’s maiden name.
My mother was pretty absent when I was growing up, I think because she couldn’t bear to be around my father.
I always wished she’d take me with her wherever she went.
I hated how much she was gone. She’d come home when my father was out of the country on extended business trips, act like nothing was wrong, like it was normal she wasn’t around. ”
“Maybe your grandmother left you something,” Hadley suggests. “To at least make all the shit you’ve gone through with your family worth it.”
“Highly unlikely, but one can dream.”
“Thank you for trusting us enough to tell us,” Becca says.
“I’m sorry to dump all of my trauma on you both.” I slump against the seat.
“You can always talk to us,” Hadley says.
“And the guys too,” Becca says quietly. “You know they’ll have your back.”
I do know that, but I also never want to be a burden, hence why I’ve never shared my crazy past with anyone. It does feel good to have told someone. To have talked about what’s going on with me. Even if I only skimmed the surface of my family trauma, it’s nice to have said those things out loud.
We sit in silence for a while, and for the first time in a very long time, it feels as though the weight on my shoulders is a tiny bit lighter.
“Should we finish packing?” Becca eventually asks.
“Let’s do it,” Hadley says, getting to her feet.
“Thank you for giving up your Saturday afternoon to help me.”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for,” Becca says.
We spend the rest of the afternoon packing my apartment. I could not be more grateful to my friends for being there for me when I need them.