Текст книги "Butterfly Dreams"

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 20

Beckett

Corin was waiting in the car when I walked out of my parents’ house. I could see her messing with the radio.

I took a minute to watch her without her realizing it. Mom’s words echoed in my head.

“That sort of grief breaks a person.”

Was my mother right? Was Corin broken? There were times I’d agree with Mom. I could see the heartbreak there, just below the surface.

But there were other times, like when it was just the two of us together, that she seemed happy. Hopeful even. Not broken at all.

I knew one thing for sure; I needed to find out more about Corin’s past. Whether she wanted to talk about it or not.

I got in the car and put the bag my mother had given me on the back seat.

“You okay?” I asked her. Corin continued to fiddle with the radio dials and gave me a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sure.”

Sure.

It was such a weighted word. With Corin it could mean a million different things. It could mean nothing at all.

“Sure,” I repeated.

Corin nodded. “Sure.”

“So you liked the pot roast,” I remarked lamely.

“It was a good pot roast,” Corin agreed, giving me a strange look.

“Well, that’s great.”

Way to dig for information, Beckett, I silently chided myself.

I drove back to my apartment not really knowing what to say. I had a lot of questions, but I wasn’t sure Corin would answer them. She was so evasive. She avoided certain subjects like the plague.

I pulled into my normal parking space and turned off the car. “You want to come inside for a bit?” I asked. Corin had driven over after work and I could see her car parked beneath the elm tree.

“If you want me to,” she answered.

“Sure,” I said and was finally rewarded with a sincere upward curve of her lips.

We walked slowly inside my building. We waited for the elevator. We stood side by side. Not speaking.

Waiting.

Once inside my apartment, I turned on the lights.

“I should put this stuff in the fridge. Do you want anything to drink?” I asked, holding up the bag my mom had given me.

I was feeling suddenly awkward. Antsy. Restless.

“A cup of tea would be great.”

“Okay, well, make yourself comfortable. I’ll only be a minute.”

I hurried to make the tea and when I came back out to the living room, I found Corin looking at my framed photographs on the mantelpiece.

“You look so young in some of these,” she said, pointing to a few of me playing soccer and running track in high school. She took the cup of tea I held out for her.

“I should. That was over ten years ago.”

She moved down the row to look at the ones I had taken.

“I really love this one,” she murmured, indicating the black and white of the Ash Street bridge in the moonlight. “It’s beautiful.”

I picked up the framed photograph and handed it to her. “Then you should have it.”

“I can’t take it, Beck, it’s your picture.”

“And I can take another. But I want you to have it if you like it so much.”

Corin tucked the framed picture into her chest, hugging it to her. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

She looked back at the photographs. “Why didn’t you tell me about your doctor’s appointment? About your heart?” I asked.

“What did it feel like when you had your heart attack?” she asked, not answering me.

I frowned. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything—”

Corin looked up at me and I was surprised to see that her eyes were damp. Tears clung to her eyelashes but wouldn’t fall. Corin rarely cried. I knew it was something she tried not to do. Ever.

“Can you tell me? Please,” she begged. I knew this was important to her. I just didn’t know why.

I took her hand and pulled her to the couch. We sat down beside each other but not touching. I wanted to wrap my arms around her. I wanted to hold her and figure out why she was crying. I hated those tears. The pain that caused them.

“I was out jogging one morning. I wasn’t pushing myself particularly hard. I was running the same route I went every single day.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I was going along the river, listening to my music, not thinking about anything in particular when I felt a sharp pain in my right side. I tried to ignore it at first, thinking it was a stitch or something.”

I remembered back to that day. How I had tried so hard to disregard the signals my body had been sending. I ignored each and every one. Until it was too late.

“Then I felt a pressure in my chest. Like a giant boulder sat right here.” I rubbed the middle of my sternum. “I stopped running and bent over, trying to get my breath.”

I ran my hands through my hair. I hated this memory. More than any other. “I couldn’t breathe. And the pressure was too much. I felt sick. Like I was going to throw up. Then I collapsed.”

Corin was staring at me with an intense look in her eyes. It unnerved me a bit. “I was told that my heart stopped beating for almost two minutes. That if it weren’t for a pair of women out walking their dogs, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“You died,” she whispered.

I nodded. “I died.”

“Does that scare you?”

“Dying?” I asked, and she nodded.

“No, it doesn’t.” And it was the truth. Dying wasn’t what scared me.

It was not living.

Corin looked away, her hair falling over her shoulder and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch her.

“Why are you asking me all of this?”

“Because I am scared of dying.”

“But you’re fine, Corin. You said your doctor told you that your heart is fine—”

“If it’s not my heart, then it’s something else. I know it.”

I didn’t understand what she was saying. How could she know something was wrong when her doctor said she was healthy?

“I don’t think I get what you’re telling me. Is there something else going on with you? Are you sick?”

“When I was fourteen years old, my mother was diagnosed with melanoma. She died within the year.” The tears started falling then and I couldn’t stand not holding her any longer.

I pulled her toward me, pressing her into my side. I burrowed my nose into her hair, breathing in the scent that was entirely Corin.

“I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Corin.” I couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. What she went through.

“Then a year later, my dad was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s disease. He didn’t die right away. He fought for a long time. I was eighteen when he finally passed away. I had been taking care of him for the last year. When he died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was completely lost.”

My god, she had lost both of her parents in such a short amount of time. How in the hell had she survived that?

“Tamsin, my sister, wasn’t around for any of it. Not really. She was off at college and I was home. Watching my parents die one at a time.” She sounded monotone. As though she had switched off the emotion. Or she was bottling it up. I didn’t want her to bottle it up. I wanted her to know she could let it loose with me.

“Corin, fuck. That’s horrible.” What completely insufficient words.

“After that I knew that I was going to end up the same way. Dead too early. Wasting away from disease. I just knew that I didn’t have much time left. So I’ve never bothered to do much. I didn’t go to college. I’ve never had a serious relationship. Sure, I have my pottery studio, and that’s something that has brought me some joy. But that’s it.”

She had to have been so lonely. I felt angry at the thought of her cutting herself off, hiding herself away. From people. From relationships. From the world.

“But you’re not sick?”

I was still so confused. Was she sick or wasn’t she?

“You could die at any time, Beckett. Your heart could just give out. And that will be it. I didn’t want to take a chance on you. Because I couldn’t watch someone else I cared about die. Because I didn’t want to leave someone behind the way my parents left me.”

Mom was right. Corin had baggage.

Major baggage.

“But you’re not going to die, Corin,” I argued, feeling like I was missing something vital. Something important.

“Of course I am, Beck. I feel it in my bones. I know it’s the truth.”

“Well, shit, Cor, everyone dies at some point. But that doesn’t mean you have to go around waiting for it to happen.” I was feeling myself get frustrated with her defeatist attitude.

She was telling me that she was healthy. That she was fine. But that she had convinced herself that she wasn’t.

That in her head she was dying and there was nothing I, or any doctor, could say to change that.

“I waited for my dad to die. I watched it happen. Do you understand what that’s like?” she yelled, finally looking at me.

“No!” I yelled back. “No, I don’t. I can’t imagine how horrible that was for you!”

Corin started sobbing. Tears fell hard. They fell fast. They coated her skin with a misery she had kept dammed up inside of her for too long.

“You died, Beckett. Your heart is kept beating by a fucking machine in your chest!” She was getting hysterical.

I grabbed her hand and placed it over my chest. Right over my thumping, beating heart.

“Do you feel that, Corin?” I demanded. She tried to look away, but I grabbed her chin and forced her to meet my eyes. “Do you? The steady beat? It’s not stopping. I won’t let it.”

Corin rolled her red puffy eyes. “You have no control over it, Beck. Don’t you get that? Nothing you do will change what could happen.”

I pressed her palm flat over my skin. “What could happen. Could. Possible. Maybe. Not definitely.”

“You are so damn optimistic. It’s irritating,” she muttered, wiping away the tears.

“And you’re a neurotic mess with a boatload of issues.”

Corin’s eyes heated and snapped. I was glad to see it. I had missed her fire.

“Well, tell me how you really feel,” she quipped sarcastically.

I pulled her onto my lap. I wrapped my arms around her waist and ran my nose along her collarbone, kissing the delicate skin. Loving the feel of her against my lips.

Loving her.

“Okay, I will. I love you, Corin Thompson.”

I was pretty sure she stopped breathing. She went rigid. So unbelievably still.

The words had tumbled out. I hadn’t meant to say them but the truth wouldn’t be locked away.

I loved her.

More than I ever thought it possible to love another human being.

She made me laugh.

She made me want to scream.

She made me so incredibly happy.

And so damn sad.

She made me embrace life and live it.

And I wanted to do the same for her.

I kissed her neck. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” I murmured against her skin. Corin instantly stiffened.

“You don’t know anything—”

“Shh. Stop it,” I urged her, kissing the underside of her jaw. “What I’m saying is that you’ve been through more than most people. Grief like that scars a person. It changes them. It changed you.”

I twisted her around so that she was straddling me. Her hands were on my chest. Still pressed over my heart.

My constant, beating heart.

“I think that you’re so scared of dying that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to live. You won’t let yourself. But, Cor, I won’t let you do that to yourself. Take it from a man who almost lost everything—you can’t focus on the end. You have to concentrate on what’s right in front of you.”

“I’m not sure that makes any sense,” Corin huffed. I was pushing her. I probably shouldn’t. She was the running sort. There was a chance she’d take off and I’d never be able to catch her.

But it broke my heart to see her self-destruct.

Not when I would do everything in my power to stop her.

I reached up and gently brought her face down to mine. I kissed her. Deep and true. I kissed her with everything I felt for her. For this sad, lonely, sort-of-crazy woman.

“Stop thinking about what could happen later and focus on what’s happening here. Now. With me.” I ran my thumbs along the curves of her cheeks.

“Laugh with me.” I kissed the side of her neck.

“Dance with me.” I pulled her shirt aside and kissed her shoulder.

“Smile with me.” I kissed her temple.

“Love with me.” I ran my hands down her arms and laced my fingers through hers. I leaned in and kissed her mouth. Her lips parted and she let out a little sigh as my tongue found hers. I gripped her hands tightly, holding her. I wanted her to hear me. To listen. And I swallowed her tears. One at a time.

“Live with me,” I pleaded.

“Beck.” She said my name on a sob. She was crying in earnest. Completely undone.

She ran her fingers down the side of my neck, skimming along my collarbone until they found the scar. The slightly raised spot under my skin.

With tears on her lips, she kissed my incision. She lingered. Not long.

But enough.

Making her peace.

When her mouth found mine again, I knew that she was surrendering that last part of herself over to me.

And I would take care of Corin Thompson.

As long as I was able to.

Without another word, I lifted her up, her legs wrapped around my waist, and I carried her down the hallway and into my bedroom.

We never stopped kissing as I laid her down on the bed and I slowly peeled off her shirt. Our mouths only disconnected for the length of time it took to get naked.

Clothes were discarded. Our hearts fell on the floor.

We were exposed.

Open.

For each other.

“Beck,” she whispered, arching her back as I pressed my fingers between her legs. She gave everything. Absolutely everything. And I took all of it greedily.

I loved a trail from her mouth down her body. I took my time on the places that needed me the most. The hollow of her throat. Her pounding, thumping heart. The taut skin just below her belly button.

And when my tongue found the center of her, she cried. She swore. She told me to never stop.

And I wouldn’t. Not for anything.

“Beckett. I need—” She didn’t finish because she didn’t have to. I knew that we both needed the same thing.

I found a condom in the drawer and quickly put it on. She watched me the entire time, heat in her eyes. It made me feel powerful to have her watch me like that.

Confident.

Sure.

When I pushed inside her, I had to stop for a moment. Overcome. It was too much.

I looked down at Corin and felt an intense pressure in the center of my chest that had nothing to do with a failing heart.

And everything to do with it finally finding a reason to beat.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her again.

But I couldn’t get the words out.

I couldn’t say anything at all.

So I loved her silently.

I loved her completely.

I loved her with every tiny part of me.

The words didn’t matter.

The quiet was so much better.

Chapter 21

Corin

“I know you’re awake.”

I buried my face in the pillows, not wanting him to see me grinning like a fool. I could feel Beck’s cool fingers on my naked back, tracing the line of my spine.

His finger was soon replaced with his mouth, the wet tip of his tongue gliding over my skin.

It had been almost three weeks since my breakdown after dinner with his parents.

Three weeks since I had exposed all of the ugly, mortifying parts of me.

He knew my secrets.

And he loved me anyway.

He loved me.

There was nothing wrong with me. Dr. Harrison had said it. Beckett agreed.

I was still struggling to believe it.

Particularly when my head and body tried so hard to tell me differently.

I still had the number for Chris Riley but I hadn’t called. I wasn’t sure if I would. I knew that I probably should. But I hadn’t mustered up the courage yet.

I wasn’t entirely sure I really needed it. I hadn’t been focused on pain in weeks. My mind, my heart, was wrapped up in Beckett Kingsley.

I hadn’t had a panic attack in over three weeks. I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t anxious.

All because I had found love with an amazing man.

Maybe he was the only therapy I really needed.

“Wakey, wakey,” he hummed in my ear, moving my hair to the side and pulling my earlobe with his teeth.

“I’m sleeping,” I grumbled, making a show of being irritated. But I wasn’t irritated.

Not in the slightest.

He rolled me over and started kissing the hollow of my throat, drifting lower and lower.

I squirmed when he started paying special attention to my overly sensitive breasts, which still sported the stubble burn from his administrations last night.

Beckett was a bit of a boob guy. He was a little obsessed with them.

“Mmm,” he moaned against my fevered skin, and I felt it between my legs.

I stretched my arms above my head, my eyes literally rolling back into my head.

What this man could do with a tongue and a nipple should be studied by every guy on the planet. There would be a lot of very happy women as a result.

His fingers crept south, being all sneaky-like. As if I wouldn’t know where he was headed.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked lazily, pushing into his hand as he cupped me.

“What’s it feel like?” he murmured, his mouth still full of boob.

“It feels naughty,” I teased and then gasped when he pushed a finger inside me. Jesus Christ Almighty!

He started to work his hand, languidly stroking me, in and out, and I started spewing all sorts of gibberish. I may have started speaking in tongues. One orgasm later and I could barely think straight.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Beck chastised when I closed my eyes.

I popped one eye open. “Well, I certainly hope not,” I remarked primly.

Beckett growled in the back of his throat and kissed me furiously. Within a matter of seconds we were both groaning loudly as he screwed the living daylights out of me.

And just as we were both about to have the orgasm to end all orgasms, a ball of fluff jumped up on the pillow and lay down.

“What the—” Beckett looked over at my cat, Mr. Bingley, not breaking his stride.

“Ignore him,” I moaned, arching my back.

Mr. Bingley lifted his leg and started grooming himself. Two feet from our heads. And when he was finished, he stared at us, unblinking.

“Your cat’s a total voyeur, Corin. It’s disturbing,” he panted. Beckett wrapped my legs around his waist, lifting me up and repositioning me on the other side of the bed.

“I feel him watching us,” Beckett whispered, as if Mr. Bingley could hear him.

And sure enough, Mr. Bingley was still there. Watching.

“We have to take this somewhere else, Cor. I can’t fuck you the way I want to knowing he’s sitting there, silently judging,” Beckett bemoaned.

I chuckled. “He’s a cat, Beck. His thoughts consist of mice and food. I don’t think he’s critiquing your thrusting technique.”

Beckett pushed deep and I let out a breathy sigh. “Hang on,” he commanded.

“Should you be doing this? Take it easy,” I gasped, worried about him exerting himself.

“Don’t you dare tell me to take it easy,” he warned. “Now hold on.”

I tightened my legs and curled my arms around his neck as Beckett hoisted me up, still buried inside me.

I felt like a monkey hanging off a tree. “Where the hell are you going?” I asked, giggling.

Beckett kicked my bedroom door closed and carefully lowered me to the floor in the middle of the hallway.

“Here? Are you serious?” I laughed.

“I. Can’t. Wait. I. Need. You. Now.”

I wasn’t laughing a whole lot after that.

–

A little while later we were back in my bed, having kicked Mr. Bingley out into the living room. Something my furry companion hadn’t been too pleased about. I was pretty sure he was out there plotting his feline revenge.

I was resting my head on Beckett’s chest, listening to the steady thump. He had seemed unnaturally tired after our morning shenanigans on the hallway floor, and I worried that carrying me like that had done something.

When I asked him how he felt, he slapped my ass and told me he was ready for round two.

I insisted on resting instead.

Even though we were happy, happier than I thought I was capable of being, I still fretted.

I was paranoid.

I worried about his heart even though I tried not to. Because I was attempting to put my hang-ups aside.

As hard as that was.

“When’s your next doctor’s appointment?” I asked him, pressing my palm flat over his heart.

Beckett grabbed my hand and kissed the palm. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I want to know,” I explained.

“Next week. I’m going to have the ICD checked and will have some X-rays as well. I’ll also have my medication evaluated. It’s all pretty routine.”

I bit down on my lip and tried to smile. I didn’t fool Beckett in the slightest.

“You don’t need to worry so much about me, Corin. Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s not going to. You have to trust me. Trust in this.”

I wanted to. I was trying. But I had been conditioned to always look for the worst.

My phone dinged from the nightstand.

I frowned. It was my Saturday off. Adam was at the studio with no parties booked. I couldn’t imagine why he would be calling.

I leaned over Beckett and grabbed my phone. He took the opportunity to latch onto my boob again. He really was insatiable.

I read the text message on the screen and let out a frustrated yell.

Beckett let go of my breast and sat up. “What is it?”

“My sister. She’s in town. I totally forgot she was supposed to be coming here.”

Well, that just killed my Saturday.

“Your sister? The bitch?” Beckett clarified.

“The one and only,” I confirmed.

“What’s she doing here? Doesn’t she live up toward D.C.?”

“Yeah, she does, but she warned me that she was going to be in Richmond for a conference with her husband and they’d be driving out here. They want to sell Mom and Dad’s house. She’s seeing a real estate agent.”

“And you don’t want to sell it,” Beckett surmised.

“I’ve been fighting with her about this for a while.” I suddenly felt very tired.

I pulled away from Beckett, leaning over the side of the bed and picking up my underwear that he had removed from my body the night before.

“I guess I should get in the shower. She wants to meet out at the house in an hour.”

My heart seized. She wanted me to meet her at the house.

I felt the first tendrils of panic unfurl in my belly.

“You just went white as a sheet, baby. What’s wrong?” Beckett rubbed my back.

“It’s nothing. I’m being silly,” I said, dismissing it.

Deep breaths.

In and out.

Don’t freak out, Corin.

Not now.

Go to your happy place.

Find your sanctuary.

My sanctuary was no longer beaches with scantily clad man candy.

I looked up into Beckett’s worried eyes and I knew that I was already in my happy place.

I tamped down the panic attack that threatened to explode, the first I had experienced in weeks, and gave him a shaky smile.

“It’s not nothing. Otherwise you wouldn’t look like you were about to pass out,” Beck argued.

“I haven’t been back to that house in years. Not since I moved out after Dad died.”

Beckett took me by the shoulders, holding me firm. “I’ll be there with you. It’ll be okay.”

I nodded. Because I believed him.

I trusted him.

“I love you,” he said softly, and I kissed him.

It was the only way I could say it back.

–

We pulled up in front of the house where I had spent my childhood. I had driven by the house many times over the years but never dared to go inside.

Until now.

I could see Tamsin and Jared talking to a woman in an ugly plaid pantsuit. They were walking around the perimeter of the property while pantsuit lady made notes on a clipboard.

“I can’t believe she’s doing all this without consulting me first,” I hissed.

Beckett rubbed the back of my neck, trying to calm me down. “She can’t do anything without you agreeing to it. It looks like a standard appraisal, which is a good thing to have anyway. Don’t go over there fists swinging, I have a feeling your sister will be expecting that. Remember people respond a lot more to calm rationale than defensive anger.”

I leaned over the seat and kissed his cheek. “I’m so lucky to have my very own Master Po.”

“You will learn the ways of kung fu, grasshopper,” Beckett intoned, and we both snickered at our dorky love of random seventies TV shows.

I unclipped my seat belt. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

We got out of the car and walked toward my sister, Jared, and the badly dressed real estate agent. They looked up as we approached and I noted the look of shock on Tamsin’s face at the sight of Beckett.

I realized I had never told her about him.

And she was definitely not used to my being with a man. They never stuck around long enough for a second date, let alone meeting my witchy sister.

“Hi, Corin. Nice to see you,” Tamsin said, stepping forward to give me a stiff hug.

“You too,” I lied. Jared came over to give me a hug as well, but I might as well be embracing cardboard.

I backed away from both of them and inclined my head in Beck’s direction. “This is my boyfriend, Beckett Kingsley. Beckett, this is my sister Tamsin and her husband Jared,” I introduced.

Tamsin’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Boyfriend? Since when?”

Beckett held out his hand, which my sister shook. Followed by Jared.

“For a while now,” I answered vaguely.

“And you never told me?” Tamsin asked, and if I didn’t know her better, I would have thought that she looked almost hurt.

“Why would I have told you?” I asked pointedly.

Someone cleared their throat and we all turned to the woman in the poo-colored plaid.

“Corin, this is Ellis Montgomery. She’s a broker with Blue Mountain Realty. We were just looking around the property so she could start her appraisal. The renters are gone this weekend but I let them know we’d be coming by.”

“Hello,” Ellis the agent said, holding out her hand for both Beckett and me to shake.

She looked down at her clipboard. “So, the house was built in 1975. It sits on a half an acre in a desirable part of town. It’s within close proximity to shops and schools. I see there are two outbuildings for storage.”

Ellis droned on, talking about all the particulars of the property. I barely listened. It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t sell.

I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at my sister, who was listening to Ellis. Jared wasn’t paying attention, too busy reading his email on his phone.

“Chill out, Cor,” Beckett whispered in my ear.

“I am chill,” I whispered back.

“Then why can I hear you grinding your teeth from here?” he asked, giving me a look.

I relaxed my jaw and dropped my arms to my side. Being combative would only piss Tamsin off and then I’d get nowhere.

“Are you ready to go inside?” Ellis asked, and Tamsin pulled out a key, leading her up the small front porch to the door.

Jared and Beckett followed her but I hung back.

I hadn’t been inside in years.

I wasn’t sure I could go in now.

Beckett looked back to see that I was still on the lawn.

“Corin—” he began, but my sister cut him off.

“Would you mind going in with Jared and Ellis? We’ll be inside in a minute,” she said, handing him the house key.

Beckett looked conflicted. I knew he didn’t want to leave me alone to deal with Tamsin. But I also knew my sister’s statement brooked no argument.

“Okay, as long as Corin’s all right.” Beckett frowned, looking to me for confirmation.

I nodded and Tamsin patted him on the arm. “She’s a big girl, Beckett.”

After Beckett, Jared, and Ellis went into the house, Tamsin came to join me in the yard.

“This is your first time back here, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Mine too. It’s strange, isn’t it?” Tamsin stared up at the house, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pale gray trousers. Was she trying to make conversation?

What was her angle?

“You don’t want to go inside?”

“I don’t know,” I told her, not giving her much.

Tamsin scratched the side of her neck, an anxious gesture I recognized from when we were younger.

I hadn’t seen my sister in a while. Over a year at least. She had lost some weight since then. She had a few extra wrinkles and her eyes looked tired. But she was still pretty. She and I looked a lot alike. We had the same brown hair and dark brown eyes. We both sported the same dimple in our chins. But for all our physical similarities, we couldn’t be more different.

“I never wanted to come here again,” Tamsin said after a beat.

“Yeah, I got that impression when you would never come home to visit,” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to be so short with her but she brought out the bitch in me. It must be catching.

“Mom and Dad were great parents. They really were. I loved them so much. But I couldn’t watch them die. So I stayed away. I’m not saying it was the right thing to do. But I was still a kid too, Cor.”

I shook my head. Her excuses were just that—excuses.

We had never really talked about when Mom and Dad were sick. Tamsin seemed to relocate that to the back of her head where you put your most embarrassing memories and random football stats.

It felt strange to be discussing this now.

But it was a long time coming.

Too long.

“I was a kid too,” I spat out.

Tamsin sighed and turned to look at me. “Yeah, I know. And I was a selfish jerk. I left you to deal with all that on your own. And I wasn’t exactly understanding after Dad died. We cope in different ways. You think you’re dying all the time, and I become super bitch and throw myself into school or my job, avoiding the hard stuff. Neither is healthy.”

“Yeah, so we’re both fucked up. I still don’t see what that has to do with selling the house. Why are you so hell-bent on getting rid of it? Don’t you want to hang onto that last connection to Mom and Dad?” I asked her, my anger still simmering away.

“No, I don’t,” she answered shortly, striking me speechless.

“You don’t?” I asked, aghast.

“I don’t need a pile of bricks to hang onto Mom and Dad. And neither do you. If anything, I think this place holds us back. It ties us to a time we shouldn’t want to go back to.”

“It wasn’t all bad here,” I protested.

“You’re right. It wasn’t. But at some point those good memories were drowned out by the bad ones. I can’t look up at that green siding and yellow door and think of anything but the fact that our parents died in there.” Tamsin wiped her eyes. I hadn’t noticed that she had started to cry. Maybe she wasn’t completely unfeeling.

That small show of genuine emotion softened me, just the slightest, toward my sister.

Her words hit me hard. Mostly because it was exactly how I felt about the house I had lived in. I just had no idea she felt the same way.

“But there were good times, Tam. Lots of them,” I continued to argue. It seemed more for the sake of arguing though rather than with real conviction.

Tamsin sighed. “Then why won’t you go inside? Why do you want to keep a house you refuse to live in? You refuse to even walk into? I think you, more than me, need to let this go. You need to let go of whatever makes it impossible for you to be here. Because it’s eating away at you.”