Page 69

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

carter

Declan

Text me when you get there. Hug her for us. We’re so sorry, man.

Boston

All good for work, buddy. Text Coach if you need more time. He’s ready to accommodate you.

Callum

Head up, Fork. We’re here if you need us.

The cab ride is utterly silent. I glance over at her every few seconds, but she’s lost in her own head.

She grips that toy skunk like it’s the only thing grounding her, and for a moment, I feel relief.

She’s never really been alone. She’s always had her mom with her, especially during the tough times.

She feels her every time she squeezes that skunk.

We pull up to a two-story home made of red brick. The porch light is on, but the curtains are all drawn. Arden looks at it like it’s haunted, like there are ghosts she has never stuck around long enough to face beyond that door. Her grip on Stinky turns lethal.

I don’t speak, and the driver must feel that something is wrong, because he doesn’t usher us out of the car either.

I wait for her to get to where she needs to be.

She hasn’t been home in years. She’s returning to everything being different. She’s walking right into the place that scarred her. These walls, these people, this life—it holds a lot of complicated memories for her, and I am so out of my fucking element.

I just want Red to be okay.

After a few minutes, she sucks in this big breath and turns to me. “Ready?”

“Are you?”

She smiles tightly, eyes searching mine. Then, heartbreakingly, she shakes her head.

She gets out of the car anyway. I thank the driver and hand him an extra big tip for being kind.

I unload our stuff from the car, and Arden waits with Stinky at her chest, not daring to take another step forward on her own.

She stares up at the house, and as I shut the truck of the cab, there is movement behind the curtains.

We barely reach the door before it flies open and a girl who looks nothing like Arden, but just like her all the same, storms onto the pavement. Arden freezes, making me skid to a stop behind her.

I study this girl’s face and the look in her eye, my hand moving to rest on Arden’s back to remind her I’m here.

She has bright blue eyes and dark brown hair that’s pulled into a bun on the top of her head. Her eyes are swollen, her lips puffy and chapped. A soldier who’s been on the frontline for many, many years. Her gaze skims to me for half a second before going right back to Arden .

“Biggie,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

Arden deflates a bit against my hand and the woman surges forward and yanks her to her chest. It’s such a desperate movement that a little bit of my heart breaks for them both.

Arden’s sister brings her hand to her red hair and buries her face against her shoulder.

She cries, whispering how much she missed her and how much she loves her over and over again.

Arden stays silent.

She clings to her sister, but she doesn’t speak.

When they finally separate, Arden turns to me, and there are still no tears.

“Carter,” she says quietly. “This is Serena. Serena, this is Carter.”

Serena smiles warmly and steps toward me. I go to hold out my hand, but she winds her arms around my shoulders instead. I hesitantly hug her back, locking eyes with Arden over her shoulder. She gives me an exhausted look of gratitude.

“Thank you for bringing her home,” Serena whispers.

I dip my chin. “I’m sorry for your loss, Serena.”

“Me too,” she says, leaning back. She studies me for a second, like there is more she wants to say, but seems to decide against it. Instead, she retreats back to her sister, winds her arms around her, and guides her into the house where the ghosts are waiting.

I follow tentatively behind them, stepping inside the home that holds a lot of pain for the best woman I’ve ever met.

It looks like it’s been completely frozen in time.

It’s like stepping back into the nineties with a few touches of modern decor.

It feels like a wonderful place to grow up, but I know better. I know too much.

I kick off my shoes and glance at the dimly lit living room.

“Do you want a drink?” Serena asks her sister.

I follow them into a small kitchen with a circular table tucked near the back wall.

Arden stops in her tracks as we round the corner, immediately meeting the cold glare of another woman with the same blue eyes as the first. She’s seated at the table, a bunch of paperwork in front of her, her cardigan hanging off her shoulders.

I take it that this is Anya.

Anya’s lip shakes as her gaze narrows in on Arden. Her colouring is nothing like her eldest sister’s, but there are parts of Arden in her, too. The shape of her lips, the slope of her nose. The speckles that dust her skin.

“Hi, Anya,” Arden says softly. “I’m sorry about Dad.”

Her fingers stop tapping against the tabletop. “I’m sure.”

Serena whirls around from the fridge. “Anya.”

“We don’t need you now that he’s gone, you know. He asked for you one hundred times over the years, and you couldn’t find the time or money to make it happen, but now that he’s dead, you have the facilities?”

Arden goes rigid.

Serena stares down at the littlest Doll. Stunned. “Anya, what the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” Arden whispers.

“Of course you are,” Anya snaps. “You always are. I’ve heard those words from your mouth so often over the years that they’ve become meaningless.”

I should leave, shouldn’t I? This doesn’t feel like my business, but leaving Arden here alone feels cruel.

“Anya, enough ,” Serena bites out.

“Dad wouldn’t want her here and you know it,” Anya barks out, flying back from the table. My heart jolts into my throat. She slides past Serena and storms right toward us. I place my hands on Arden’s shoulders and squeeze.

I will be a wall between you and anyone, Red. Even your sister .

Anya stops inches from her face. She doesn’t acknowledge my presence once. “He died crying out your name.”

“I’m sorry, Arden.” Serena sighs, placing the glass of red wine in front of her. She hands me my beer and drops into the seat beside me, glancing at me. “You, too. I hate that you had to see that. She’s not always that bad.”

Those words are still ringing in my ears. I look at Arden. Her eyes are glued to the table, her hands shaking. She’s a shell of herself in this house.

Serena follows my gaze and leans forward, taking Arden’s hand in hers. “He didn’t die crying your name, Biggie. He was barely conscious. He couldn’t speak. We tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail.”

“I forgot to take it off ‘do not disturb,’” Arden admits, sounding defeated.

Serena stares at her, thumb brushing her hand. “I don’t think you would have come, even if you knew.”

Arden swallows, but doesn’t deny it. She wouldn’t have. Everyone in this house, including the ghosts, knows it.

“Why would she say that?”

Serena lets out a breath and runs a hand over her face.

“Because she’s angry. He was asking for you more often than not while he could still talk.

That last week he was crying, begging for the three of us to be together.

He kept saying he had to know we’d be okay.

Without him. He would want you to be here. More than anything.”

Arden snorts, which makes Serena tense up. Arden is still resentful, and Serena is one of the daughters who forgave. Even though she’s less angry than Anya, she’s still on the opposite side of a battlefield. She’s mourning .

“He didn’t think you’d speak to us anymore without him around, needing us to band together to care for him,” Serena explains quietly. “His biggest fear was you being alone in life. Not having your sisters.”

Arden shakes her head, bringing her wine to her mouth. I try not to focus on how badly her hand trembles.

“His biggest regret is being the one who made it that way,” Serena continues.

Arden’s eyes snap up to hers. “He had a lifetime to prove that, Serena. If he didn’t understand he could never have enough power to force me away from my sisters, he really didn’t know me at all.

I know he’s dead, and I’m so sorry you lost him, but I lost him a long time ago. His regrets don’t mean much to me.”

Serena stares at her older sister. “I know you’re still angry.”

“I’m not. I don’t feel anything toward this situation apart from what I feel for you and Anya.”

The situation is that their dad is dead. That’s how bad her life was here. She refers to the loss of her only living parent as a situation.

“He was still your dad,” Serena corrects gently.

“It might not hit you now, but it will. He’d want you to know that he loved you and that he wishes he could have been a better father.

He knows how bad he was, Arden. He was completely aware that you suffered more than any of us because he was a broken, sick man. ”

Arden glowers at the table, and I swear I see her lip wobble a bit. “My dad died the same night Mom did. You know that.”

“I know.” Serena nods. “But he also got better as he got older and sicker. He understood his shortcomings and yearned for a chance to become a father to you. I never intercepted. I let you choose your relationship with him and I’ll never judge you for those choices.

He and I spoke at length about what you were doing in life.

He was so excited to hear that you found somebody. ”

My heart sinks, and when Serena’s eyes meet mine, I feel physically ill. I want to get up and leave, but I have no idea where I’d go, or how far Arden would want me to be. This whole thing has been a lie, and it kills me that Serena is looking at me with such gratitude, not knowing the half of it.

“He wanted you to be happy, and if that was without him in your life, and without him getting your forgiveness—he was at peace with that.”

“Good for him.”

“Arden.” Serena sighs.

“What are we looking at for the funeral?” Arden asks, clearing her throat. She reaches for all of the paperwork, thumbing through it.

“Why don’t we go to bed and tackle this in the morning?” I suggest quietly.

“I’m not tired. I’d rather do it now.”

“Red.”

She shakes her head, brow furrowing at something she’s reading. She begins to rapidly search through the paperwork until the table is a mess. Serena and I watch her silently, letting her busy herself with shaking fingers.

I slowly stand and make my way toward her. If I’m the only one who will put her first, then I’ll check every box and make sure I’m doing it right. She’s still shuffling documents when I place my hands over hers and kneel between her and her sister.

Arden’s eyes shut as I force her to stop.

“Red,” I say again. “That’s enough for tonight. Alright?”

She refuses to look at me.

“I made up your old room,” Serena says.

“I don’t want to stay here.”

“Oh— ”

“I want a hotel,” Arden sniffs, glancing at me. “Can we get one?”

I nod slowly, taking her hand in mine and squeezing. “We can, but I think your sisters need their Biggie. I think you need both of your Smalls, Arden. I think we should stay here, even though it might hurt like a bitch.”

One thing is very clear to me: the three Doll sisters need each other right now.

They need to bridge this raw, painful gap between them.

She needs to stay here. She can’t avoid this one, not when they mean so much to her.

She needs to make this better for herself because she won’t survive this if it gets worse.

Arden’s eyes flicker to Serena.

Even though Anya is furious, it’s only because she’s heartbroken.

I’m certain that Arden understands that.

She’s smart. People react differently in these situations, and I won’t hold Anya’s venom against her, even if it infuriates me that those words were aimed at Red with the intention to wound her.

“Fine.”

Serena lets out a small breath of relief.

I pray this doesn’t backfire on all of us.