Chapter 19 #2
Maren looks great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s clear she put more effort into Zara’s look than she did her own.
Which seems to be a trend.
Maren always puts her sister first, in pretty much every way. From the size of their bedrooms, to the items filling their home. Maren is up early to take her sister to school and stays out late shuttling Zara from one activity to another. It’s something I respect deeply about her.
But it also bothers the hell out of me to see all the sacrifices Maren has made. It makes me wish I could do more for her. Figure out some way to take just a little off her plate.
Unfortunately, the best I can offer is money and broken promises.
“Are you ready to go, Trevor?” Zara bounces in place as Maren gets her situated in the seat of her wheelchair.
I grin as she wiggles around, making her sister’s job way more difficult. “I am. And if you sit still, we’ll get on the road a lot faster.”
Maren gives me a once-over as she finishes belting Zara in. “Are you seriously going to the petting zoo in a suit?”
“Of course I’m not going to the petting zoo in a suit.” As soon as she hooks her bag over the back of Zara’s chair, I step in between them, gripping the handles. “That’s why we’re stopping at my house on our way.”
I know Maren’s nervous about bringing Zara to my house, but it’s probably better to rip that Band-Aid off now. It’s going to happen sooner or later, and I think she’s going to be pleasantly surprised at how little her sister genuinely cares about the differences between their home and mine.
“Why don’t you go home and then we can meet at the petting zoo?” Maren trails behind me as I wheel Zara out the door and down the ramp, maneuvering the chair the same way I’ve watched her do a number of times. “I’m sure the last thing you want is us invading your sacred space.”
I snort, because it seems she’s been reading me all wrong. “My space isn’t sacred.”
Not the way she thinks anyway.
Maren lifts her brows. “I’ve seen your office. I can only imagine what the inside of your house looks like.”
“It’s nice, don’t get me wrong.” I push Zara to her side of the van. “But it’s not the sort of house people get comfortable in.”
It happened by accident. Since I didn’t have anywhere else to direct my somewhat obsessive tendencies, they ended up zeroing in on my home.
I became completely engrossed in turning it into exactly what I wanted it to be.
When I wasn’t working, I was scrolling through furniture options and perusing wallpaper samples.
It gave me something to anticipate. Was a project I could participate in, while not having to control or micromanage.
And then it was done, and I felt remarkably… Unsatisfied.
Having the home of my dreams was depressingly unfulfilling. I know my brothers think it’s my pride and joy, but it’s neither. I like it, but it doesn’t fill the void the way I hoped it would.
I still let them give me shit about it, and pretend their assumptions are right. That’s much easier to face than the reality of all I can never have.
Maren snorts as she presses the button to open the door and unfurl the ramp. “I don’t believe you. I’ve been to your mother’s house, and it’s insanely gorgeous, while also more than comfortable.”
For some reason, that makes me smile. Mostly because Maren has no clue what’s coming if she’s expecting my house to look like my mother’s. “You’re in for a surprise then.”
I push Zara inside, but after that I’m at a loss.
From my vantage point under the tree, I could never really see what happens on the interior of the van.
Stepping back, I watch intently as Maren goes to work strapping the chair securely to the floor.
I do my best to commit the process to memory so I’ll be able to accomplish it on my own, but I’m not completely confident I’ll remember every step. Not after just observing once.
Maren gets behind the wheel and I take the passenger seat, managing to buckle in just as she flings her bag in my direction.
I catch it, angling a brow at her.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She starts the engine. “You’re the one who insisted on sitting in my bag holding seat, so you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.”
I don’t know what all Maren has in this thing, but it’s heavy enough it probably does deserve its own seat. “I didn’t complain.”
“Whatever.” She backs out of her tiny driveway and begins the journey to my home.
A strange tightness curls through my guts as we close in on my family’s estate.
It’s not nervousness. I don’t normally experience that.
It’s not dread either, though that is one I’m familiar with.
I think it might be excitement. Anticipation.
I’ve never had anyone but family in my home, and I’m genuinely looking forward to it.
Not because I want to show off, but because having Maren and Zara inside seems like it will de-sterilize the space.
Cut through the museum feel it has and turn it into something more… Palatable.
Plus, I know neither of them will hold back on what they think about it. And I can’t wait to hear what they have to say.