Page 45 of Loving Trent (Love in the Bootheel #5)

Twenty-Seven

TRENT

Wet, hot tears roll down my neck as Betty clings to me as if she is afraid I will disappear the second she lets me go.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the woman in my arms is my little sister.

Gone is her long, curly, always perfectly styled hair and the feminine dresses she wore.

She has tattoos and facial piercings now.

It’s not a bad thing. It’s just blowing my mind.

Betty lived and died by Josiah’s rules. She never stepped one toe out of line.

He told her what to do, how to think, and even what to say.

Before I was sent away, I tried to follow his rules, but always found myself questioning the reason behind them.

I never told anyone that or even stepped far out of line until the day I met Shawn.

Slowly, everyone walks past us, heading into the house.

Sonny tells Harley, “Let’s give them some time alone,” before he walks past. I assume he takes her inside with him.

Next is a curvy, shorter woman whom I don’t know.

Before she passes us, she places a hand on Betty’s back and kisses her cheek.

Which leaves me questioning everything even more.

Last to walk away is Shawn. My gaze collides with his, and I hate the worry I see.

Although he offers me a gentle smile, which makes my anxiety about his fear that I’m mad at him lessen.

Just like the woman did with Betty, as he passes, he touches my back, but gently kisses my lips.

Once the door shuts for the final time, I gently pull Betty back and get my first good look at her. “What happened to my perfect little sister?” The stupid question is out of my mouth before my brain has time to catch up.

Betty smiles and wipes the tears off her face. “I grew up and found the courage to be the real me. What do you think?” She cocks one eyebrow up as she does a little turn in front of me.

“It’s different, but…” I cup her face once she is facing me again.

When she was younger, if anyone wanted to know what Betty was feeling, all they needed to do was take a quick glance at her eyes.

They always told her story. Her eyes say that she is a little sad, but she is also feeling free.

She looks happy—genuinely happy. “You look really good. Happy.”

Betty copies me and cups my cheek. “I am now. What happened to you? Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back?”

Each question pokes at the tender spot in my heart.

The place that, over the last couple of days, has been slowly healing, thanks to everyone around me.

The sound of car doors opening pulls our attention away from each other.

Betty looks over her shoulder, and her whole body tenses when she sees Uncle Joey standing next to his car.

Uncle Joey’s hazel eyes grow wide, and he shakes his head as if he is also unsure where the niece he knew went.

“Uncle Joey,” Betty whispers fondly. She turns back toward me. “He’s here? Why?”

“He’s helping me,” I say as another door shuts in the driveway. “He and his boyfriend Ryan are helping all of us find the people who ran the conversion camp I was sent to.”

“Boyfriend,” Betty yells, spinning around to watch Ryan wrap his arms around Uncle Joey.

Grabbing her hand, I gently pull her toward Uncle Joey, who is still standing frozen in place. “There is a lot we need to discuss, little sister.”

Tears.

Anger.

Heartbreak.

Those three emotions fueled the conversation between Betty, Uncle Joey, and me as we sat outside under the blue afternoon sky.

Ryan left us after introductions were made.

I laid it all out there for Betty and fought through the fear of her judgment.

Uncle Joey told her all about Ryan and why he never told us about his sexuality.

Then Betty told us her story. To say it mirrored my own and Uncle Joey’s is an understatement.

“The night you left,” Betty says, while her fingers pluck at the dead, brown grass.

“I wasn’t allowed to come out of my room.

The next morning, when I came down for breakfast, Eve wasn’t there like usual, but Josiah was.

He sat me down and told me that you were going to a boarding school in England.

When I asked why, he told me that it was something you wanted, and I hate to admit it, but I believed him.

“Honestly, I believed everything Josiah said for the first year. All the excuses for why you never called when I was home, wrote me back, or came home for the holidays. Josiah?—”

“You wrote me letters?” My plan was to let Betty get her whole story out before I spoke, but my question just slipped out.

“Of course I did. You’re my big brother, and I missed you.

The night you got hurt was the night I started questioning it all, and I hate myself because it took me over two years to see the lies, I was being spoon-fed.

Now that I know what really happened to you…

” A sob chokes her, and my arms wrap around her, bringing her into my chest.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. You did the best thing you could have for me. You called Uncle Joey, and he saved me.” Uncle Joey lays his hands on our backs, giving us a moment.

“When I turned sixteen, I met April, and that’s when everything changed.

She had just moved into town, and up until we became friends, I thought something was broken inside me.

I wasn’t like the other girls in my class.

I didn’t feel anything for anyone. Everyone was getting boyfriends or had crushes, while I just sat there numb inside.

Then, all of a sudden, on my seventeenth birthday, I felt attraction for the first time.

“April and I had been friends for a year and were as close as any two people could be. She took me out for breakfast. While April was eating her French toast, I was staring at her mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss her.” Betty pulls back out of my embrace, and the smile that is on her face makes the air between the three of us feel warmer.

“Of course, I was freaked out and tried to put distance between April and me, but she didn’t let me go.

Instead, she helped me figure out what was going on with me.

Turns out I’m Demisexual. It was like once I figured out who I was, the rose-colored glasses I was wearing broke. ”

Uncle Joey chuckles. Betty and I turn our heads towards him. “What’s so funny over there?” Betty’s question doesn’t hold a hint of malice.

“The reason I was kept away from you kids was because Eve knew I was gay. She said that if Josiah ever found out she allowed me to see you, he would flip. Apparently, his worst fear was that my sexuality would rub off on you two,” Uncle Joey says, still smiling.

“That’s not how it works.” Shaking my head, I wonder how na?ve people really are if they believe things like that.

“I also find it funny that someone like Josiah Anderson sired two kids who aren’t straight,” Betty says, letting a small giggle slip past. “Anyways, I started to question our upbringing more and more. Then I started to ask questions about where you really went. I also started to question Josiah’s beliefs, and that’s when the abuse started.

Josiah would force me to kneel on the ground for over ten hours without reprieve on rice. He called it repenting for my sins.”

A red haze drifts in as the beast wakes up and rattles his cage.

“One day, I came home to find my room completely cleaned out. He had taken everything, including my clothes. I had a blow-up air mattress and a set of paper-thin scrubs to wear. His reasoning was that it was a lesson in gratitude,” Betty continues, not realizing what her words are doing.

“I eventually broke and told April, who told her parents, who called the police. They helped me file for emancipation and refused to give me back when the police told them that there was nothing they could do. Thankfully, a judge took pity on me, and I was finally free of them. But then everything changed five years ago…” Betty pauses and leans her head back to the sky and sighs.

“Eve’s dead, and right before she died, she called me, asked me to come over.

She told me she had something to tell me about you, Trent. ”

Two things happen at the same time. Uncle Joey roars in pain, stands up, and literally runs away.

The front door opens and Ryan flies by after him.

Secondly, Betty looks at me and without saying anything, a hundred-pound weight drops in my stomach, the ripples it causes spread, turning into white, hot anger.

Josiah killed Eve because she was going to tell all his dirty secrets.

We sit in silence until Ryan and Uncle Joey come back and join our circle.

“I’m sorry about that,” Uncle Joey says. His voice is rough as if he swallowed a handful of gravel.

“Uncle Joey,” Betty says, reaching over and grabbing his hands. “There’s more. Shawn and Sonny told me that there is no evidence that Eve actually died like Josiah said. There isn’t a dead certificate, no obituary… Nothing.”

Uncle Joey scoots forward, wraps both of us in his arms, and says, “I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise. I’m sorry that I let both of you down. I love you.”

Before I can reassure him that he did nothing wrong, he’s up, in his car with Ryan and backing out of the driveway. Betty turns to me with tears in her eyes and says, “I’m sorry you didn’t think you could come to me about what you were feeling.”

Wrapping her hands in mine, I press them against my chest. “Betty, we were both children at the time, and I was scared to even admit out loud what I was feeling. There was no way I could have told you.”