Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Nova
“I don’t think this is broken,” the kindly old vet says long minutes later, stethoscope draped around his shoulders. He’s given Steve an extremely gentle and thorough exam. “But I’ll splint it anyway, and you should make sure he takes it easy.”
Steve huffs out a sigh, slumping into the blankets, much more comfortable now that Jer—the kindly vet with the shock of white hair—had given him an injection for his pain.
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” I say softly, as the snores start to come.
Jer smiles. “Not for today, anyway. I’ll leave you some oral pain medicine and small supply of tranquilizers, just in case, but have Lake call me if anything seems off with him and I’ll come right back out.
” He pulls out some supplies, starts expertly wrapping up Steve’s leg, and doing it in such a way that my little pupper doesn’t so much as miss a snore.
“And then,” he says, “once we’re dug out a little bit, come into the clinic for an X-ray. ”
“Okay,” I say softly, eyes stinging.
Because Steve is okay.
Because this man dropped everything to come help me.
Because Lake made the call in the first place.
And because…my sister is still sitting inside the front door, her gaze on me.
Pleading, even from a distance. Calculating, even from a distance.
My stomach churns, and not in a good way. I’ve always known she was selfish—it’s hard not to be when we grew up as we did. The urge to hoard anything that feels good, any love and care and kindness shown to us. It’s…a ravenous beast that’s never satisfied, always wanting more and more and more.
She always wants more.
I…I just find my more by hitting the road and searching out—
Snore!
Something I haven’t figured out yet.
I tear my gaze from my sister, turn back to my pup and the vet, and help Jer pack up, thanking him as we move toward the door.
He smiles, nods toward the brooding hockey player shooting arrows from his eyes toward my ex and my sister.
“Thank Lake,” he says. “I’ll never turn down free tickets to the Sierra.
In fact”—he looks around—“you don’t have a cat I can help?
Or a guinea pig? A bearded dragon?” He waggles his brows.
“Then I can really turn the screws on Lake.”
For the first time since George showed up, I feel like smiling. “No,” I say. “I just have the one pet.”
“Thank God,” Ashley mutters and I glare at her then focus on the scene outside the large window behind my sister, see George standing by a large black SUV with flashing lights on top.
George, who hurt my pet.
George, who hurt me.
“Damn,” Jer says lightly.
I focus back on him, try to think of something to say, and settle on, “I think you might be able to trade tickets for a couch.”
Jer’s mouth twitches and he taps his temple. “I like the way you think.”
“Can I help you carry your stuff out?”
He shakes his head. “I’m fine. Stay in here where it’s warm.”
I force a smile, one he sees right through if his eyes gentling as he reaches in and squeezes my hand is any indication. His next words confirm it. “Your pup is okay, and I think with Lake at your side, you will be okay too.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
But he’s wrong.
Lake isn’t at my side.
He’s made that quite clear.
Another squeeze and Jer’s gone, walking out the door, pausing next to the heavy-duty SUV that has made it through the snow, its bright headlights illuminating the scene. There’s also a gathering of snowmobiles, several other members of the sheriff’s department having congregated in Lake’s driveway.
They’re all standing around and talking while George is handcuffed and forced to stand out in the cold.
I don’t feel bad.
He hurt my baby. He can be left to go full human popsicle, for all I care. I turn away from the windows—
“Sissy.”
My insides clench, but I force myself to look at my sister.
At another person who doesn’t matter because she’s shown that I don’t matter to her over and over and over again.
I lift a brow as I turn to face her.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Laughter bubbles up in me. “So you were fucking my boyfriend as what? A favor to me?”
Her bottom lip immediately slides out into a pout.
Same shit. Different day.
Only…I’m tired. “Look,” I say. “You hurt me. A lot, but”—I sigh—“you did me a favor. George is clearly a jerk and—”
“Yes.” She nods rapidly, playing bobblehead. “George is totally a jerk and—”
“And you are too.”
Ashley rocks back, shock on her face.
“This surprises you?” I ask.
“It’s always been the two of us,” she says.
“No.” I shake my head and bite back another sigh. “It’s always been you, Ash. What you want and need. I haven’t let myself factor into our relationship in years, maybe not ever.”
“Mom and Dad left—”
“Yeah,” I say. “They left. But they left me too, and that also hurt me. And, Christ, it’s not just about you and your feelings all the time, Ash.
I—” I sigh. “You hurt me, not just a couple of times, not just a few days ago, but too many times over the years.” I shove a hand through my hair, strive to stay calm. “I’m done, babe.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I study her closely. “Didn’t you?”
She flinches, but there’s something in her expression, in the way she lifts her chin. She’s sorry, yeah, but mostly, I think she’s sorry she got caught.
She’s sorry I’m distancing myself so I’m not an easy target.
She’s sorry—
I sigh. It doesn’t matter. I can barely look at her, let alone think about having her in my life at this moment. “You’ve never cared when you hurt me before,” I say, hating the cynicism that’s filled me, but knowing it’s there for a reason.
Because I’ve allowed her to treat me like this.
Let it go. Look forward. It doesn’t matter.
Only…sometimes it does.
I shake those thoughts from my mind. “Why did you really light a fire under George’s butt to get him to bring you up here?”
Ashley doesn’t have a car.
She usually borrows mine because I rarely need it. I can—could—walk to work, the grocery store, my favorite restaurants.
Guilt slides across her face, and my gut clenches.
“You didn’t,” I whisper.
She looks away.
And that’s answer enough.
My eyes sting again, but this time it’s because I’m furious, because I cannot believe my sister would do this to me, would hurt me this way…and that she doesn’t even care enough to fix it. She only allowed herself to come along because—
I go ramrod stiff, gape at her.
My words are a hiss. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Her eyes, a familiar green I see in the mirror every day, darken with guilt. A sad sight, if only it wasn’t complete bullshit.
“I—” She licks her lips, presses them together. “They’re not just yours.”
Betrayal slices through me, but the fury slices deeper, exposing…
How done I am.
How stupid I was for dating someone like George.
A user. Just like my sister.
Selfish. Just like my sister.
Pathetic—no, that’s just me.
“You’ve really burned through everything I gave you?” I ask.
She flinches again. “But—”
“No buts,” I say. “No excuses. No…more. I don’t want to see your face or hear your voice and I-I—” My voice cracks and it takes everything in me to inhale, exhale, and have my words come out steady. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”
“George—”
“Is a fucking jerk,” I say. “But you’re worse.”
She shrinks back.
I move to the kitchen, to my duffle, to my hastily packed belongings, my memories of my parents, of my grandmother who stepped in and cared for us when good old Mom and Dad skipped town, leaving us alone in an apartment without food, without rent paid, all when Ash was six and I was eight years old.
Kids abandoned.
Alone.
Then not…because our grandma stepped in.
She died, though. Died and left us and we were stuck fending for ourselves again—I was stuck taking care of my sister and then, as an afterthought, myself.
Probably why we are here at this juncture.
I reach into the bag, pull out the black velvet box, and move back to my sister.
“Here,” I say. “Just take them and go.”
She snatches them from my hold, flips open the lid, all business, solely focused on herself.
That’s a familiar feeling.
“Where’s the butterfly pendant?”
My fingers itch to reach into my pocket, to feel the familiar rough texture of the stones from our grandmother’s necklace, all that I’ll have left of her now that I’ve handed over that small jewelry box to my sister. “Steve chewed it up and broke it.”
Truth.
But also not.
A disdainful look toward my pup. “Clearly, he deserved that kick George gave him.”
It feels like I’ve been kicked with that comment, but I just lift my chin. “I’m going to need you to go.”
“But—”
“Go, Ash,” I say, yanking the door open.
She closes the jewelry box, walks outside, doesn’t look back.
I close it behind her.
Then I go to the kitchen.
And I get out the vodka.
Forward. Just keep crawling fucking forward.