Chapter 13
My sister was waiting for me at baggage claim in a gray and pink tapered pantsuit, so she looked more stylish than frumpy, with her long dark brown hair slicked back against her head.
She didn’t see me approaching, too busy rapidly texting on her phone, so I was able to sneak up behind her to tickle her sides, shouting, “Boo!”
She screamed, falling flat on the ground with a hard thud. It was like her legs just gave out on her.
I wheezed from laughing so hard.
“God, Mady!” Jessa glared at me. “What is your problem?” Grabbing her phone, she took my extended palm with her free hand. “People get detained for stuff like this!”
Oh, she was seething.
As I pulled her up, I noticed a police officer watched us with intense eyes. I gave him my most innocent smile as Jessa wiped the back of her pants.
I wasn’t sure he bought it.
Turning back to my sister, I held out my arms. “So. Did you miss me?”
“The house was quiet.” She looked back down at her phone.
I sighed. Same old sister.
Between all of us, Jessa was the most like our father. The most emotionally detached.
We didn’t talk about it, because it was about Mom, but I always thought Jessa took her death the deepest, which made her keep everyone else at a distance. Even her siblings.
After our mom died, Dad had everything of hers removed from the house. Pictures, clothes, anything that would leave a reminder of her in our lives.
With every piece of Mom’s that was removed from the house, Jessa withdrew more into herself.
My sister measured life in achievements and failures. It was either an A or an F with no in between, and I think, like me sometimes, she blamed our mom for failing treatment.
It sounded awful, but we were two young girls who lost our mother. Physically and emotionally.
Jessa preferred solitude, silence, order, and everything that ran away when I got near.
I was sure my time away was a staycation for her.
She eyed my new suitcase that I had to buy before leaving London thanks to the airline not finding my lost one, not questioning where the other went. “All set?”
I nodded, and we walked to the car. I almost waited for her to tell me I was driving since her head hadn’t lifted from the screen our entire journey through the parking garage.
She didn’t, though she sent off one more message before tucking the device into her large tote bag.
“Hot date tonight?” I couldn’t help but pry. As much as she was my opposite, my sister was the closest thing I had to a best friend.
“I don’t know.” She sighed, hands wringing the wheel. “I hate dating apps. They make me so nervous.”
“Wait, dating apps? I thought you were still seeing Tiffany.”
A neutral expression graced her delicate features as she shook her head. “We broke things off while you were away.”
“Well, yeah. Obviously.”
Jessa rolled her eyes as she backed out of the parking space.
Before I left, Jessa was infatuated with the girl. In a way I hadn’t seen since she came out as bisexual in high school.
My sister didn’t crave companionship. She craved sexual connections, the comfort of another person, monogamously. She wasn’t one for hook-ups like our brother.
She was with her partners for a long time, but hardly let them fully into her heart. Unlike me, who let Saint in the moment his lips brushed mine.
Another way we were opposite.
I felt with my whole being, while she was afraid of letting people in. Again, lasting damage from losing our mom. She was afraid to lose another person who meant so much to her.
Which was why she kept even me at arm’s length.
Not that I minded, I was used to it. But I knew it’d been a problem in her past relationships before.
“What happened?”
“The same thing that always happens.” She flicked on her blinker. “I wasn’t opening up enough for her. I get it. If the roles were reversed, I’d get sick of constantly being pushed away when her emotions became too much.”
If I knew it wouldn’t piss her off, I’d reach over and grab her hand. But it wasn’t my comfort she needed.
“I’m sorry, Jess.”
She shrugged it away. “Eh. It’s whatever. I have a date tonight.”
“How long ago did you two break up?”
“Is that judgment I hear?” She cut me a quick look before focusing back on the road.
“Not at all. You just didn’t talk to me at all while I was away. I’m trying to catch up.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t the phone work both ways? I don’t recall any messages from you, either, Mads.”
Mads. It was weird hearing my nickname after going so long without it. With Saint, I was always Madelayne. The occasional Mady. Never Mads.
“Touché.” I knocked my elbow against hers on the center console.
A small smile touched her face. She might pretend otherwise, but I knew she missed me.
“This is where you ask, 'How was your trip, Mads?’” I supplied when she didn’t offer any more conversation.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously it was good. We already established you didn’t call me, which means you weren’t miserable, because if you were, my phone would’ve been going off from messages from you. We don’t need to waste time talking about something we both already know the answer to.”
I stared at her profile for a long time before whispering, “You know, sometimes you’re a lot like Dad.”
Her grip tightened around the wheel, and she shot me a pained look. She hated being compared to him. For so many reasons. “So are you, Mads. You know exactly how to make words hurt like him.”
Now that we both felt like crap, the long drive home was filled with tension and an audiobook Jessa turned on as soon as we hit the highway.
And it wasn’t even an audiobook I could enjoy with her.
It wasn’t magical or romance-filled. Instead, my sister listened to a law book.
A law book!
My ears wanted to cry.
With no other source of entertainment, I turned to my phone, something I was trying to avoid. As soon as we landed, I turned it back on, hoping to see a text from Saint.
I didn’t.
Disappointment wilted inside me, and I wanted to smack myself.
I had never been one of those girls who constantly checked her phone in hopes the guy she was waiting to hear from had finally texted her.
I refused to start with Saint.
However, since I was a thoughtful individual, I sent him a text letting him know I made it back.
I know we agreed on minimal texting, keeping it to mostly at night, but it was an innocent enough text. Something I would’ve sent him regardless.
See, I told him I wasn’t good at following rules.
Rules or not, it still kind of stung that he didn’t do the same.
But instead of letting that get to me, I did something out of character.
I rationalized.
He was probably catching up on work. He took an extra week out of the office, I was sure he had a lot of tasks that needed attention and didn’t want to be bothered.
Which would also explain why, by the time we got back home, he still hadn’t responded. Nor did I have a text waiting for me by the time I woke up the next morning.
I ignored the worry gnawing at my stomach.
He would reach out.
Eventually.
I didn’t see my brother or father until dinner the day after I got home from the airport.
As soon as I woke up and noticed that my phone still lacked a notification from Saint, I grabbed my skateboard and went to the Bowl, where I stayed for hours.
Until Jessa texted me with a reminder to be home for dinner.
Sunday dinner was my dad’s favorite tradition, and trust me when I say the man had a lot of traditions.
But instead of inviting half the town’s judicial system like he usually did, it was a smaller affair with only the four of us.
After all, it was the first time we were all together since my graduation a couple of months ago.
I preferred a house full of people, filling the space with conversation instead of the sounds of silverware hitting fine China, like it was now.
Neither Archer nor my father asked about my trip.
I didn’t divulge any information on it, either. We were all tense. We were always tense around each other, as if waiting for a bomb to go off.
Archer sat on the right hand of our father, picking at his food to keep from making eye contact with anyone, least of all Dad.
Anthony Novak was a strict hard-ass, but he was hardest on his son, stuck in the sexist and dated idea that the son was the shining star of the family.
He pushed Archer to be the best of us, which meant he picked apart every word, dissected every action, and questioned all his business moves.
Arch didn’t talk at these dinners unless he was spoken to.
Jessa, who sat on the left side of my father, ignored all of us, choosing to spend her dinner alternating between her plate and the book she was reading. Surprise, surprise, it was another law book.
I stared off into space while swirling my food around the plate from where I sat on Jessa’s other side. The furthest from our father.
Not that it mattered. He hadn’t even glanced in my direction since I walked into the dining room.
Still angry about my decision to not go to college.
I stifled a sigh.
A Novak family reunion at its finest.
And not a quick reunion at that.
My father got it into his head some years ago that dinner needed to be an elaborate event. No matter how many bodies were sitting at the table, he liked to have multiple courses. Around four dishes and then a dessert.
It took hours.
Even longer when it was just me and him dining together.
Hours and hours of silence, save for silverware scratching plates.
As course number three was being served, I broke the silence and focused on my brother. “How’s the business, Archer?”
I hoped I faked enough interest in my words. I never asked about his company, but since I still hadn’t heard from Saint, my brother was the only source I could get answers from as to why.
As subtly as possible, that was.
Everyone stopped moving, casting wary looks my way.
For a moment, I worried I did something wrong.
Did I miss the memo of this being a silent dinner?
Or, an even bigger worry, did they somehow know the only reason I was asking? Because of Saint?
No, no, no, that couldn’t be it. There was no way.
“Are you serious?” Archer shot a look to Dad, and I knew he wanted to stab me for opening my mouth.
The stabbing could wait. I had some prying to do.
“Uh, yeah?” I tried to keep my voice neutral.
“You never ask about my job.”
“That’s because it’s boring. But so is this dinner, so excuse me for trying to fill the boring silence with boring conversation.”
Archer’s lips twitched, amused, before turning sullen. “Busy. Hectic. If dinners weren’t mandatory” —he cast a look at our father, who was studying his red wine— “I’d be in the Atlanta office with Saint right now.”
Just his name sent an electrical current through me, distracting me enough that I barely caught the rest of what Archer was saying. “As it is, I have to get on conference calls when dinner’s over.”
“You wouldn’t be drowning in work if your business partner didn’t abandon you for an extended vacation,” Dad chipped in.
“It wasn’t a vacation, Dad. I told you, Saint had unresolved business to take care of. His last meeting didn’t go as planned.”
Me. They’re talking about me.
I was the unresolved business, the meeting that didn’t go as planned. Under the table, I was busy picking at my nails.
Be cool, Mady. Be cool, Mady.
This was actually a lot harder than I thought it would be. The queen of lies was struggling to keep a secret.
Especially as Dad turned to me. “You saw Saint. Did he mention any of this to you?”
This was it. My first test.
Luckily, it was toward my father, where lying felt more natural than the truth.
“No, not at all.” I cocked my head to the side. “Why would he?”
“Your brother mentioned Saint took you out to dinner your first night there, though I couldn’t fathom why. What did you two talk about?”
Couldn’t fathom why. How about because it was my birthday?
I bit my tongue to not start a fight.
This was not the time, not the time, not the time.
“We actually talked about you, Dad. And your award you were receiving that night. How did that go, by the way? I didn’t hear from you at all while I was there.”
“It went fine. A standard award ceremony. Could’ve made the slideshow of my triumphs longer, but it was manageable.”
This was the beloved mayor the town had elected to look over them. I didn’t see the charm people swore they saw in him.
“I had a great time, too,” I chirped when he didn’t ask. “I went to some of the places I always talked about with Mom?—”
“Madelayne.” My father’s voice was frostier than a blizzard’s night. “Enough.”
My molars grounded together as I glared at the rack of lamb on my plate.
I hated lamb on principle. Veal, too. Which was why my father served both tonight.
Slowly, I set my fork down.
It was easier to fight the urge to launch it at his face when I wasn’t holding it.
I knew I was pressing my luck by bringing Mom up.
Truthfully, I hadn’t even meant to. It slipped before I could catch myself.
She would’ve hated this.
Mom was a person who celebrated life, even when it was dark with hard times. There was always a high to come out of even the toughest days. She taught us to focus on that, and instead of celebrating her, we hid her memories.
It wasn’t fair.
Jessa reached under the table and gripped my hand.
I held on tight, feeling my brother’s gaze on me as well. I didn’t look at either of them as shameful tears stung my eyes.
She deserved a better family than us.
Novaks don’t cry.
That was the first lesson our father taught us after Mom passed. We were at her funeral, scared and unsure, alone and heartbroken. The three of us looked to our father for solace and all he gave in return was stern tolerance.
No one talked again until dessert was served.
“Oh.” Archer broke the silence. “I forgot to mention this earlier. Saint’s having a dinner on Tuesday. You’re all invited.”
I nearly dropped the spoon holding my chocolate mousse.
“Will you two even have time for dinner?” Dad asked while my mind short-circuited.
A dinner with my entire family? What was Saint thinking?
He was the one that said we had to keep this a secret, and now in two days’ time, he wanted me to sit at a table with my family and pretend like my skin wasn’t still marked with the bruises he left on my body.
The very people who couldn’t know about us.
Saint always had an appetite for danger, but this dinner could turn poisonous.
I vaguely heard my brother tell our father that things at work should be settled by Tuesday.
He hid it well, but I knew Dad was too delighted at the prospect of going to Saint’s for dinner, practically salivating.
He was almost as bad as me when it came to Saint’s attention.
I could barely make it through the rest of dinner, no longer able to eat the mousse.
Before the plates were cleared away, I slipped out of my seat and fought the urge to run up the stairs into my room. Instead, I forced myself to take them one at a time.
Once my door was shut and locked, I called Saint.
Pick up, pick up, pick up.
He didn’t. Instead, I was left with the raspy sound of his voice telling me to leave a message. He sounded like he just woke up.
A sound I missed hearing in my ear every morning.
I was almost tempted to call him again just to hear it one more time.
Ugh. What? My face pinched in disgust.
I was so not this girl. I didn’t pine, waiting for the guy to call. I didn’t let them take hold of every thought. I didn’t become miserable over a man not giving me attention.
At least I didn’t until Saint.
Saint had always been the exception to my every rule. My every instinct.
But maybe it was time for the exception to be broken.
If Saint wanted to talk to me before the dinner, he would. And if not…well, my family being there wouldn’t be his only problem that night.
Saint should know I didn’t take things lying down.
And I certainly didn’t play fair.
Walking to my closet, I searched through outfits, looking for the perfect one to make him lose control.
Tuesday night, he could look, but he couldn’t touch.
It wasn’t until I was on the highway two days later, headed to Saint’s, that he finally contacted me.
A single text.
Two simple words.
Don’t come.