Page 29 of Dearly Unbeloved (Spicy in Seattle #3)

I blink at the question. “It makes you spacey. And…” I sigh. “It feels like admitting I’m a failure. Like I can’t get through the day without help. I know it’s not rational.”

Sierra laughs, soft and twinkly. “You’re right, it’s not rational. Did you know I’ve been on antidepressants since I was eighteen?”

My eyes widen. I had no idea. As disorganized and frustrating as she is, Sierra has always seemed so happy to me.

“Not the first time I’ve gotten that reaction,” she says, tapping me on the nose.

“But I do need them to help me get through the day. Not every day, but they keep me level. You know we moved back from Canada when I was sixteen, right?” I nod.

“Well, that’s a shitty time to leave behind everything you’ve ever known.

My friends made promises to keep in touch, but we were sixteen, and that was easier in theory than in practice.

Within a few weeks, they’d pretty much all stopped talking to me.

I didn’t make any friends at my new school.

Hell, I haven’t really made any close friends since, except for Jazz and Maggie now, because it fucked me up so much. ”

My heart cracks at the thought of teenage Sierra being scared to make friends in case they left her.

How have I never noticed that, like me, she doesn’t really have anyone?

She dated in the year we were living together before our accidental wedding, and she even had a couple of girlfriends in that time, but the only time she went out with friends was with Jazz and Maggie.

“My parents begged me to take a gap year before college, to try medication and therapy. I didn’t like therapy, but the medication helped a lot.

It’s not a cure-all, don’t get me wrong, it just gives me a little breathing space to work through things when I need to.

I started spending a lot more time outside, too, which made a big difference. ”

“Is that why you love plants and flowers so much?”

“It’s part of the reason,” she says with a soft smile. “How come you hate them so much?”

“I don’t hate plants. I find them messy, and I hate mess, but plants are fine. And it’s not that I hate flowers, I just hate the intent behind them,” I answer.

“What do you mean?”

“People give them just for show. My parents, for example. They barely tolerate each other, but my dad always bought my mom extravagant floral arrangements so she could show them off to her friends and brag about how thoughtful he was. I’m pretty sure he just has a card on file with our local florist and tells them to do whatever they want. ”

Sierra frowns. “That is… a very jaded view of flowers. Understandable, but you know it’s not like that for everyone, right?

” I shrug, and she blows out a long breath.

“Okay. Well, my family isn’t like that. We love flowers.

For as long as I can remember, we’ve all gotten flowers for each other for every occasion.

Or even just because we spotted someone’s favorite flowers at the store and picked them up. It was a way of showing our love.”

The difference in how we grew up really is staggering sometimes. “Your family is a real family, though. My family isn’t like that. We barely like each other, let alone flowers.”

A surprised laugh bursts from Sierra’s mouth.

“What are you talking about? I don’t know your parents that well—thank god—but even I know your mom loves flowers.

She literally named her daughters Jasmine and Rose.

And Jazz loves flowers—and you, for the record.

She has your birth flower tattooed on her ribs.

Xan’s too, alongside everyone else she loves. ”

“That’s what her tattoos are? I had no idea. I assumed she just got them because she thought they were pretty, like your snake tattoo.”

“I lied about my reason for getting that,” Sierra says with a guilty expression.

“When he was a baby, Kyo had a toy snake called Sierra. My parents used to hiss whenever they said it— Sssiera . It was Kyo’s first word, when my mom was pregnant with me, so they named me after the snake.

And roses have always been my favorite flowers. ”

She lights up whenever she talks about her family, and I wish I wasn’t so jealous.

“You must miss them now that they’re so far away.”

“So much,” she says, with a wistful sigh.

“Why didn’t you move with them? I know you have a good job here, but you could find something else.” It’s not the first time I’ve wondered, but it’s not like I could ask her when we are at each other’s throats all the time.

“I love being my parents’ daughter and Kyo’s sister, but I thought it was important that I practiced just being Sierra for a while. I miss them, but I know I can survive it now.”

“Can I be honest about something?” I ask, and she holds her hands up as if to say, “What have you been doing this whole time?”

I ignore her and clear my throat. “I get jealous whenever I hear you on the phone with Kyo. I’ve always wished Xan, Jazz, and I could be so close.”

“So talk to them, honey. About that, about your parents, about you being depressed. All of it. I know Jazz wants to be closer, too, and I don’t know Xan as well as I know the two of you, but I’d bet money he does too. You just need to let each other in.”

Just the thought of it makes me want to build my walls back up and hide under the covers, but Sierra’s arms anchor me. “I’ll think about it. And I’ll think about talking to my doctor. No promises, though.”

“It’s something,” Sierra says, surprising me by bending down and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I know it doesn’t mean anything coming from me, since you, you know, hate me, but I’m proud of you for opening up about this. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

But it does mean something. It means a lot. And that scares the shit out of me.