Page 40 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

The once stick-thin bookworm with puffs of curly hair and a gap in her front teeth was now a willowy young woman with flawless light brown skin, a nose ring, exquisite eye makeup, and long burgundy micro braids.

Her slouchy olive sweater and leggings were a far cry from her favorite butterfly and rainbow pajamas growing up.

But the shadows in her dark eyes remained.

“Why not red?” she asked, inching across the threshold.

“Hm?” My understanding was blunted by the alarm coursing through me.

“Your hair. The color. Thought you’d go for red if you ever dyed it.”

“Oh,” I said, plucking at a strand to refresh my memory if it was more plum than burgundy these days or the other way around. “Well… I didn’t pick it, to be honest. My stylist did. Wanted me to stand out during my fellowship, I guess.”

Afraid she’d bolt if I moved too fast, I gradually sat up straighter. “Your hair’s the one worth talking about. It’s stunning.”

“Thanks.” She took a proper step forward. “Got them done for my birthday. Took forever, but they were worth the hassle.”

“Would have thought you’d go for pink.”

“I have before, but with the holidays coming up, and…and I…” Her back went rigid, eyes fixed on the floor.

Unable to bear the weight of the creeping silence, I said, “Your birthday looked amazing. Rory must have sent me a hundred photos.”

“Yeah.” Jenna bit her bottom lip hard enough for the flesh to turn white, then spat out, “The cake. And the gift card. They were both from you. Again. Why bother?”

Her words were both declarative and questioning—why did I keep spending money on someone who couldn’t stand me?

“Milestones should be celebrated.”

“But why?” Her heated gaze lacked the spite I’d expected. If anything, she looked disillusioned. “You don’t know me. It’s always the same amount on a gift card to a craft store for my birthday. Every year. Just like you always hide a bookstore gift card in my stocking.”

Deep lines creased her forehead as she tugged at the hem of her shirt.

“And you would never have come to Tacoma in person, not even if I sent you a personalized invitation.”

“Not this year, no—because I had prior commitments.”

“You always have something better to do. It used to be gymnastics. Now it’s work, work, work. The only difference is that you won’t come within twelve feet of me anymore.”

“Because I—” Taking a moment to adopt a gentle, even tone, I said, “Jenna, I don’t want to upset you. Or make you relive—”

“It was an accident! One you apologized for countless times. It’s just I was too scared to listen.”

“You refused to be in the same room with me. That goes beyond being scared. You were terrified of me. Of my temper. Rightfully so. What kind of monster hits an eleven-year-old girl?”

“I’m—it’s not that I was scared. I was—I am —angry.

Furious, sometimes. Lonely. And I have no one to vent to because my favorite sister disappeared.

The one I could always talk to, who told me it was okay to like omega things even though I’m a beta.

And I miss her. Have never stopped missing her.

But she… She’s gone. And I hate myself for still wanting her back. But I do. I want her back.”

“Me too,” I said, choking on a bitter swell of emotion. “I miss her too. But I’m not worth hating yourself over.”

“That’s what my therapist said, too. She also pointed out that while the accident changed a lot for me, for the family, it ruined everything for you.”

“Not ruined, Jenna. Altered, redirected—but it didn’t ruin my life. You know I’m too stubborn to admit defeat.”

Jenna shook her head with a chagrined huff. “You don’t even read anymore.”

“I read different things.” Thinking of the two fantasy books from Wyatt languishing in my closet, I murmured, “But you’re right. I haven’t read a book we could talk about in years.”

Patting the bed, I hoped she’d at least take a few steps closer, if not sit beside me. But Jenna ignored the invitation. So, I picked at the seams of my comforter instead.

“I stopped watching baking shows. Never learned to throw pottery. Won’t risk a handstand. And I avoid bouncy houses at fundraisers like the plague. Because I changed, but also…”

Looking at the frost-covered skylight, pretending I was alone, I confessed my darkest thoughts.

“You might not be afraid, but I am. Always afraid. What if I lose sight of my goal for one second, even to blink, and…and it happens again.” After inhaling a shuddering breath, I forced out the rest. “I wouldn’t care so much if I were the only one that got hurt.

But life doesn’t work that way. You all suffer, too. ”

Unspent tears burned my eyes.

“Every time I look at Mom, I remember how exhausted she was. I still see the stress in Pops’ face. Because he never regained the weight he lost while taking care of me. How patient and indulgent you all were, even when it took me five minutes to say my full name. And you…”

Mustering up my courage, I looked at Jenna and dislodged the deepest thorn in my heart.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you again. So I stayed away. Because I thought it was what you wanted.”

Jenna refused to meet my gaze. She stood there, arms crossed, digging her toes into the dense pile of the area rug, rocking her body from side to side. “That supposed to be an apology?”

“No. What’s good’s an apology? It can’t undo the damage.

Not what I did to you. Or what happened to me.

” Running a hand through my hair, I sighed.

“I’m sorry if the gifts are predictable.

You’re right. I give you the same things because I think they might be useful without putting pressure on you. If you want something else—”

“This isn’t about the gifts.” Distrustful eyes burned into my forehead. Still refusing to meet my gaze. “Is there anything—even one thing—I can hold on to? Something that can reassure me that this relationship is worth trying to salvage?”

I gestured at the mug on the nightstand. “Started drinking hibiscus tea again. I’d forgotten how much I liked it, relied on it, because of the color.”

“Why—what changed?”

Softly, oh so softly, I acknowledged the truth. “A man came back into my life. And he…still sees me . The way I was, but also who I am now. And he likes me as I am. Even though I’m different, and a workaholic.”

While I might not trust the anticipatory hum in my chest when I thought about lunch with the guys tomorrow, I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there.

“It turns out that a little distraction from work can be a very good thing.”

“Do texts from your siblings count as welcome distractions—or annoyances?”

“Family means everything to me, Jenna. I know I’m not who I used to be, but I’ve never stopped being your big sister.” Steeling myself for rejection, I said, “You can text me. Any time. Day or night.”

Frowning, she studied the frosted skylight. “Can I think about it?”

“Take all the time you need.”

After a stiff nod, she all but fled. Seconds later, I heard the door to her bedroom click shut at the other end of the hall.

Leaving me in stunned yet hopeful silence.