Page 35

THIRTY-FIVE

ELI

It’s Friday, the day I was supposed to be arriving in this hellhole of a town. Instead, I’m sitting on Pops’s couch, wondering why I let Sarah talk me into coming at all. Now I’m stuck, pretending like every day isn’t slowly sucking away the tiny bits of life I’ve been able to grasp on to over the years.

Sarah seems to be enjoying her time. She’s fascinated with the southern twangs and the fact everyone knows my name.

All the things I hate.

She’s uncomfortable with Pops, though. He went out with his buddies tonight, so we’re taking advantage, having a date night and finally relaxing. Pops hasn’t been the most welcoming, and after his callous behavior toward Lee, I can’t say I blame Sarah for being on edge when he’s here.

Lee.

The thought of my baby sister makes my stomach fold in on itself. I should call her, but I have no clue what the hell to say.

The front door slams open, and I shoot to my feet when I see Lee storming into the room.

“Sis, what are you doing here?”

Her face is murderous—cheeks ruddy and lips turned down in a scowl. She surges forward, and before I can stop her, she’s in my face and shoving me back. My legs hit the couch, and I reach an arm behind me to keep from toppling over.

I breathe deep, trying to shake off my anger. “What the hell, Lee?”

“When are you gonna get it, huh?” she hisses through clenched teeth. “I thought you bein’ back would make you see. Get you to realize how bad things are, but here you are…sittin’ pretty with your girl while Daddy’s runnin’ around town makin’ a fool of himself.”

I bristle at her tone, pressing back into her space. “I’m not his babysitter. Pops is a grown man.”

“Do you know where we just came from, Eli?” she asks, her nostrils flaring.

Why the hell would I know that?

Sarah chokes in a breath from beside me, her arm tugging on the back of my shirt. I follow her gaze. Pops is standing in the doorway—if you can call being held up around the waist “standing.” There’s a sheen of sweat on his brow and his clothes are rumpled and skewed, his head lolling on Chase’s shoulder.

They move toward the recliner and Chase plops him down. Pops hunches over, mumbling with his eyes closed.

My chest pinches so hard, it hurts to breathe.

“What happened?” I manage to rasp.

Lee laughs. “What do you think happened, Eli? The same thing that always happens. If Daddy doesn’t have a babysitter, he gets behind the wheel, drunk as a skunk, and ends up at his favorite bar. Only his favorite bar has banned him ’cause he always causes a scene.”

She’s talking to me like I’m supposed to be the babysitter, but how the hell was I supposed to know he was banned when she never said a word about it? I’m not a mind reader. “Lee, I didn’t know…”

“I’ve told you a thousand times!” she screams, throwing her arms in the air. “Begged you a hundred more. You don’t listen , Eli. You don’t wanna hear it.”

My stomach sinks like a cement block, my eyes bouncing between Lee and Pops. Heat infuses my cheeks at the thought of Pops pulling a fast one on me.

Am I that blind?

He told me he was going out with friends. Sure, he’s been drinking, but he hasn’t been belligerent. He hasn’t seemed like he’s needed anyone to babysit him.

Pops isn’t that man. He never has been. But maybe I’ve been too lost in my own shit to pay attention. I glance at him again, taking in his features.

I swallow, peeling my dry tongue from the roof of my mouth. “I didn’t think it was this bad,” I whisper. “Pops said he was meeting up with his buddies. He said you just like to hover, like to control things ever since Ma die—since Ma’s been gone.”

I can’t come to terms with the fact this man before me is the same one I’ve known all my life. The same one I’ve looked up to, admired, feared. How am I supposed to correlate the two? I’ve had years of being trained into thinking Pops’s word is law. How can I flip that off like a switch?

If he tells me he’s fine, then he’s fine.

That’s how it’s always been.

But this—this doesn’t seem fine .

Lee throws up her hands like she can’t be bothered to try anymore. Like she’s screaming into the void, even though she’s staring at my face. “The only buddies Daddy has are Jim, Jack, and Johnnie, the liquor not the people. Oh, and the cops that picked him up and booked him tonight.”

My heart jolts. “He was arrested ?”

Lee’s eyes shimmer with the tears she won’t let fall. “You gotta open your eyes. Daddy ain’t the hero you’ve always seen him as.” She presses her fingers to her cheeks. “I just need a minute.”

She rushes from the room, and I collapse on the couch, Sarah rubbing my back with the palm of her hand. My head throbs, torn between what I want to believe and what I know deep down is true.

I glance at Chase. His hands are in his pockets, and he’s leaning against the far wall, his jaw locked tight as he stares me down.

Sarah stays quiet but steady in her support, as always.

“Thanks, man, for going with her.” I rub my temples. “Do you think she’s overreacting a little?”

I don’t know who I’m even asking. I guess I’m just praying for someone to tell me what I’m seeing isn’t real.

Chase springs from his relaxed stance, moving to stand in front of me. “You know, you may not want to hear it, but fuck it.” He shrugs. “Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away, Eli. It won’t make it stop. It’ll just continue to spiral out of control, and then one day…one day, you’ll wake up and wonder what the hell you were thinking. You’ll wonder how you could have been so goddamn blind.”

His voice hitches, and he rests a hand on top of his heart, clenching the fabric of his shirt. “Trust me, when that day comes? The regret will rot you from the fucking inside. Because you’ll know—you’ll know that you didn’t do everything in your power to save them when you had the chance. You didn’t do anything. ” He shakes his head. “I hope to God you wake up before then.”

He sighs and storms out of the room, probably chasing after Lee, but his words linger, infusing the air around me.

My eyes jump back to Pops as he snores in his chair, his ghastly frame a whisper of the man who raised me.

My gut swims with unease. But there’s nothing I can do about it tonight.

At least he’s home.

* * *

I haven’t eaten breakfast. My stomach is too jumbled to handle the calories. Sarah is insisting on going to Sunday service.

Kill me.

She wants to see the church and get a feel for Preacher Sanger. I’m having a hard enough time pretending his name doesn’t send me into a blind rage. But I can’t tell her that without her prying into why I have such a strong dislike for the man, and that’s something I don’t talk about with anyone.

Talking makes it real. Talking makes me remember. And I’ve done a damn good job of trying to forget.

I knock on Pops’s bedroom door, but I doubt he’s awake. He has a tendency to sleep in, and when he does wake up, he’s a hungover asshole until he gets his coffee. I’m ashamed to say that yesterday was the first time I noticed the Jameson he pours at the bottom of every cup.

Still, I haven’t brought it up because what the hell am I supposed to say? Every time I open my mouth, something crawls up my throat and clamps my tongue. It’s not easy talking to the man I’ve been raised to believe is beyond reproach.

“Pops.” I knock again. “We’re going to church. Wanna go with?”

There’s not a whisper of sound from the other side, and I’m not planning to wait, so we leave without him.

The church itself is beautiful and one of Sugarlake’s historic landmarks. Stained glass lines the white exterior, and the steeple stands tall, casting shadows instead of bathing me in its light.

“Eli, this. Is. Perfect!” Sarah squeals, gripping my arm.

I smile, wishing I felt the joy I’m trying to project. My eyes soar past her to the church’s graveyard a hundred yards away. I swear I can feel Ma’s spirit calling out to mine. Or maybe it’s just my guilt knowing I haven’t been to see her grave. My throat swells, pain radiating into my ears when I think about how I wouldn’t even know where to look.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asks.

I clear my throat, bringing my attention back to the moment. To Sarah. To a future I never asked for but one that Ma did.

Marry in the church. A nice girl. A stable future. Take care of that lonely heart.

“Nothing’s wrong. Being here just brings back a lot of memories.”

“I bet.”

I bring her into my side, and she presses kisses to my cheek, my insides humming from her warmth. It’s nice, and I’m reminded of why I started wanting her around me in the first place. She’s easy, like a blank canvas that I don’t need help deciphering. She brings me comfort because she doesn’t push, doesn’t have too much personality.

But the comfort doesn’t last.

A flash of red catches my eye, and my heart gallops against my ribs, my body catching fire.

Becca’s standing in the arched entry, staring at me, and once again, I can’t fucking look away. Not even when another woman has her lips on my skin.

Why the hell can’t I look away?

I clench my jaw, forcing myself to close my eyes, sick of this twisted feeling she’s always given me. One that I’m ready to give back.

I don’t want it anymore.

When I open my eyes, she’s gone.

Sarah and I make our way inside, sitting in the back while Preacher Sanger drones on about spiritual growth through your service to God. Sarah’s enraptured by the fraud, but I’m bored, my eyes wandering until I find Becca, her aura a beacon that draws me in, even though my heart is blaring a warning to stay the hell away.

It makes fury simmer in my veins, hatred for everything she’s put me through filling me up until I’m choking on its filth.

The service ends, and I’m beyond ready to leave, but before we get to the exit, I see Becca standing next to her folks, saying goodbye to the congregation.

My rage boils hotter.

What a good little preacher’s girl.

“Ah, the talk of the town.” Preacher Sanger pats me on the back with an extra wide, bright smile lining his face.

The urge to strangle it off him is strong.

“This the lucky lady?”

I clear my throat. “It is. This is Sarah Whitson, my fiancée.”

Becca’s shoulders stiffen, and it takes everything in me not to give her my attention.

Sarah scoots in close, her arm linking mine, her other reaching out to shake Preacher Sanger’s hand. “Soon to be Sarah Carson. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Miss Whitson. I hear you’re havin’ your ceremony here. No better place to do it.”

My eyes bounce to Mrs. Sanger. It’s just like him to not even introduce her. It’s even more like her to stand silently like the dutiful, obedient wife she is. My stomach rolls when my eyes gloss over Becca and realize she’s doing the exact same thing.

Pathetic.

Sarah smiles. “Yes! We can’t wait to meet with you on Tuesday.”

Preacher Sanger chuckles. “You’ll be meetin’ with my daughter, Rebecca. She’ll be the one handlin’ anything you need.”

An invisible fist slams into my gut, my breath racing out from the blow.

“Oh!” Sarah gasps. “ You’re Becca! We talked on the phone the other day. I’m so pleased to meet you. Thank you for setting all this up.”

My heart pounds so hard, it makes me dizzy. Becca’s eyes glance at me before locking on to my fiancée, a beautiful smile gracing her perfect, freckled face.

“We’ve actually met. But it was a long time ago, back when I was at FCU…and only for a second.”

Like a magnet, her eyes slide to meet mine again—only now, she doesn’t look away. And just like every other time, neither do I.

She twists a curl through her fingers. “Anyway, I’ll do my best to make sure your day is perfect. You deserve the best, and I’m happy to help you get it.”

My nostrils flare against the sudden burn in my chest.

Becca dips her head, breaking our connection. “If you’ll excuse me.”

My stomach flips, hoping no one noticed the tension in the air.

Still, when I watch as she walks out the front door and down the steps, every fiber of my being wants to follow. Less than five minutes in her presence and my body craves her.

My mangled soul reminds me of the price.

So I turn my attention from the woman who stole away my first chance at love and to the man who will marry me to my second.

It’s what Ma would have wanted.