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THIRTY-THREE

ELI

They say parents aren’t supposed to have a favorite, but I’ve known that was bullshit since the day Alina May Carson was born and I was pushed to the side. I was three at the time, so I don’t remember the moment it happened, but the feeling snuck its way inside me and never left. Hard to forget something when you endure it every day.

Pops’s eyes would light up at the mere mention of Lee’s name, his cheeks growing rosy and a smile splitting his face while he gushed about his girl. Maybe if I were a better brother—a better man—it would be easier to ignore the bitterness that festers as a result. What I wouldn’t have given for Pops to look at me that way, just once.

Suffice to say, I’m a bit in shock after witnessing the way their relationship has eroded.

Dinner’s long since ended, the dishes soaking in the sink, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air. It’s strong enough to invade my senses but not enough to mask the animosity pouring from across the table as my sister penetrates me with her steely glare.

We never had much of a relationship, even as kids. I was a shit brother, I’ll be the first to admit it. The only thing I could see was basketball. Every second of my life was commandeered by the love of the game and the need for Pops’s approval.

“You want to come with us tomorrow, Lee? Help me show Sarah the town?” I smile at her, hoping she’ll see the olive branch for what it is.

Lee chokes on her coffee, sputtering. “I have to work.”

My heart pinches at her refusal, but I don’t show it. Tapping my head, I force a lopsided grin. “Right. It’s so strange to see you grown. Sometimes I forget.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so strange if you’d been around for all the years in between.” Her smile is wide as she slings her words across the table, and I flinch when they hit.

“Alina. Mind your manners. We got…we got company.” Pops’s voice is low, his words molasses as they slur off his tongue.

“I’m just speakin’ truth, Daddy,” Lee huffs.

Irritation darts through my veins. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Alina.”

“Oh, no? Why don’t you enlighten me then, Big Head?”

“ Don’t call me that,” I snap. “Don’t you ever fucking call me that.” I cringe at the drawl that sneaks into my words, and I breathe deeply, trying to maintain control of my wildly beating heart. “I would have if you had ever taken the time to ask.” I’m so sick of everyone thinking I’m the one who needs to shoulder the blame. Like I haven’t tried every month for years to build a bridge across the distance. Even the strongest bridges collapse with no support.

I’m not the only villain in this story.

Pops points his finger toward Lee. “Your mama. She would be disappointed in you, girl.”

Pops’s words freeze in the air like ice. It’s a low blow and completely uncalled for. Especially since Ma wouldn’t be disappointed in Lee. She’d be standing right next to her, begging me to come back home, demanding answers for why I didn’t.

My anger drains away when I see tears lining Lee’s lower lids, darkness swirling in her blue eyes. I recognize the hurt as it reaches out to touch my own.

We both have wounds from the same war, we just hide them in different ways.

Chase jumps from the table, hissing something low enough where I can’t hear. I’m not listening anyway. My focus is busy, bouncing between Pops and my sister.

Lee looks down at the table, inhaling deeply, while Chase moves in behind her, squeezing her shoulders. He’s glaring at Pops like he’s the dirt beneath his shoe. Something thick and putrid trickles through my veins as I watch how confident he is facing my father, shutting down his cutting words, and shielding my sister from the impact. I wonder what that’s like—not feeling two feet tall under Pops’s gaze.

Pops jerks to a stand and teeters, gripping the edge of the table to regain his balance. It happens fast, and I’m halfway out of my chair before my brain knows I’ve moved. My heart pounds against my chest, the visual of his inebriation filtering through my brain, tugging on thoughts I like to keep hidden.

How much did he have to drink?

“Pops, you okay?”

“Of course he’s not okay. He’s never okay,” Lee snaps. “You would know that if you had spent more than ten minutes here in the past eight years.”

I blow out a breath, my hands resting on my hips. She’s so damn dramatic. “Sis?—”

“Don’t you ‘sis,’ me, Eli.”

“I’m fine, dammit!” Pops’s voice cuts through like a knife. “And I’m a goddamn adult. I’m the parent, and this—this is my house.” He points to Chase and Lee. “You two, go on…get. I don’t want you here.”

“Pops,” I breathe, my eyes wide and my chest tight.

This situation is spinning out of control, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Fine. I don’t need this anyway.” Lee’s eyes are glossy, but her shoulders straighten and her jaw locks in place as she stands from her seat, facing me. “Have fun catchin’ up on your missed years with Daddy. I’m sure he and this town will be thrilled to have you back. Sarah, it was nice to meet you. I’m so sorry you had to see this.”

She grabs Chase’s hand and they march out of the door.

They don’t look back.

He kicked them out.

Regardless of the fact that Chase just spent all night cooking our meal. No matter that Lee’s his daughter and honestly has more right to be here than me.

Guilt prickles against my spine, and I wonder if coming home sooner would have made a difference. If I could have gotten over my shit and taken a second to just listen , maybe I’d be standing in something that’s only broken, instead of what feels a lot like ruins.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking on Lee’s selfish ways, but this is the first time I’ve recognized the trait in myself. It settles heavy in my gut, cutting out a place for itself among the rest of my mangled pieces.

Pops doesn’t say another word to us, just grumbles all the way to his brown recliner in the living room and promptly passes out.

Sarah’s sitting next to me, quiet as ever. She hasn’t said a word since dinner ended. I’m thankful for her silence, because right now, I don’t think I’d care to hear whatever she has to say.

I imagined a lot of things about when I came back. Prepared myself for a hundred different scenarios. My shield, strong and sure, has been ready to combat all the emotions I’m not prepared to feel.

Embarrassment wasn’t one of them.

That doesn’t stop it from crashing through my defenses and sweeping away any hope that maybe there was something worth fighting for here in Sugarlake.

There isn’t.

* * *

“I got that girl’s number from your sister.”

My body locks up tight at Sarah’s words, my hand freezing on the open door of the fridge. “What girl?”

“Rebecca.”

“Becca,” I correct on autopilot before spinning to face her.

Sarah cocks her head. “Huh?”

My heart thuds against my ribcage. “It’s, uh…it’s just Becca. She doesn’t like to be called by her full name.”

Even as I say the words, I realize they aren’t exactly true. Visions of how much she loved when the name rolled off my tongue flash behind my eyes. My gut clenches at the thought of her loving when someone else says it, too.

Sarah’s nose scrunches. “Okay, then. Becca. She got us a meeting with her dad next Tuesday, said it was the best she could do.”

I bite my cheek to keep the questions from pouring out. Questions I have no right to ask—ones I know better than to want the answers to. Because I shouldn’t be dying to know what her tone of voice was as she talked about my wedding to another woman. My heart shouldn’t be faltering in my chest, wondering if shards of glass are wedging in the divots of her soul, like they are for me, or if she’s completely unaffected.

“You okay there, big guy?” Sarah giggles, waving a hand in front of my face.

I snap out of my fog, swallowing around the burn of my throat. Wrapping my arms around Sarah’s waist, I peck her lips. “I’m fine. Gonna run to the coffee shop and grab us some breakfast. There’s not shit to eat in this house. Wanna go with me?”

“Nope. I’m gonna take a shower.” She smiles, rubbing the bottom of my lip with her thumb. “Just hurry back. I don’t really want to be left alone with your dad.”

I glance toward his bedroom, grimacing at the fact it’s almost ten a.m. and he hasn’t woken up. I wonder briefly if he sleeps in this late every day or if it’s because his drinking got a little out of hand last night. Maybe he just needs the rest.

It’s only two blocks to the coffee shop, and it’s a perfect June day, so I decide to walk. It’s early enough the sun isn’t blistering, and the fresh air will do me good. Clear my head. Hopefully, bring some clarity.

I think about showing Sarah around town, secure in the fact that it’s a chance to start fresh. To make new memories here. Ones that don’t sting as bad when I’m forced to look back.

Something makes me look up from the pavement as I step off the curb to cross the street, and once I do, I wish I never had.

Because there she is.

Fiery in her aura and blinding in her beauty. I choke on my inhale, desire racing through my body. I had forgotten how easily she takes my breath away.

She’s walking out of the very coffee shop I’m about to enter, and I’m a statue on the curb. My hand rubs my chest, trying to ease my double-crossing heart back into its natural rhythm. At the rate it’s pounding, I’m afraid it might shatter. Like it’s prone to do around her.

Becca’s head is thrown back in laughter, her untamed curls cascading down her back. My hands tingle from the memory of those strands wrapped around my fist, and my stomach twists at the memory of her spending hours trying to tame it.

I told myself I was prepared for this moment. It’s been five years. I’ve moved on.

But I’m mesmerized by the sight of her.

Her hand grasps the arm of the man she’s with, and he smiles down at her with a look I know well. A look I’ve worn a hundred times. One I’ve only ever felt when gazing at her.

My gut constricts, and I blow out a breath, moving toward the front door of the shop.

Fuck this.

She doesn’t get to affect me anymore. Not when it’s clear I never affected her.

Becca looks up just as I pass, her crooked smile dropping off her face. I watch from the corner of my eye as she sucks in a breath, hand flying to her chest, right where her heart would be if she had one.

Her eyes widen, and as much as it fucking hurts to hold her gaze, I don’t drop my stare. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Those emerald eyes are a vortex, sucking me in and twisting me up.

It’s what she does to me.

It’s what she’s always done.

“Eli,” she breathes.

My footsteps stutter. I resist the pull, clenching my jaw and brushing by her without a word, treating her like the ghost she chose to be. If I try hard enough, maybe I can convince myself I don’t really see her.

I walk into the store, ignoring the way my insides simmer and jump, and order a coffee and a bagel. One for me. And one for Sarah.

When I walk back out the door, Becca’s already gone.

But she haunts me all the same.