The sound of it nearly made me stagger. My pulse roared in my ears.
I knew from the start that Blue had looked familiar, but I didn’t know how. Now that it was right in my face, I could see how they both took after their mother so much that they had similar features and I was afraid I’d never look at Blue again and not be reminded of the worst night of my life.
Blue shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsettled by the sharpness in my tone. I forced myself to swallow it back, to keep my face still, my voice even. I didn’t tell her I once knew Brittany or that she was tied to the nightmare she woke me up from a few weeks ago. I needed to let it all go.
But Blue sighed, moved closer, her words spilling out like she wanted me to know more. “She only calls when she wants money. Always has. She had a kid when she was 17, he’s in his twenties now, but she’ll still use him to guilt Dad into sending cash. She never knew her birth father,” Blue went on, her hand brushing the frame before pulling away in frustration. “Not even sure if my mom knew who he was. My dad’s the closest thing she’s ever had to a father.”
I stood rigid, my arms locked at my sides, my hands curling into fists to keep from shaking.
Blue didn’t notice. She was venting, letting the words tumble out. “I try not to hate her,” she admitted, her voice breaking just slightly. “She was young when she got pregnant, and she didn’t have much of a choice back then because my mom took heraway. But she’s thirty-six now and can barely take care of herself. So yeah… part of me feels sorry for her. But that doesn’t mean I want her near me or my dad.”
I wanted to say something, anything. I wanted to be the friend I had just promised her I’d be. But then she let out another long sigh and her next words tore through me
“Last I heard, she was in North Dakota. And that’s exactly where I hope she stays.”
Chapter Fifty-One
BLUE
I didn’t understandwhy West had taken such an interest in that family picture, much less my sister. The moment I started talking about her, though, I could feel myself spiraling down that dark tunnel I kept buried. That place where resentment and hatred still lived, even after all these years.
She knew my dad was sick. She knew I was working myself ragged just to keep the lights on, to keep food in the pantry, to make sure he got his medicine. And still, she never offered to help. She only called with some sad story, spinning it just right so Dad would mail her a check.
He wasn’t stupid. But he’d raised Brittany. He’d loved her like his own, and in his heart she was still his responsibility. He also respected me when I finally told him I wanted nothing to do with her. He never told me when she called, or what she wanted.
The most I ever knew about her was her address because he’d scribble it on an envelope before licking the stamp like it was 1995 and asking me to slip it into the mailbox on my way to work. North Dakota. I never bothered to look closer than that. The state was far enough away for me to breathe, far enough thatI could sleep at night knowing she wasn’t anywhere near me or Dad.
But apparently North Dakota was enough to break West Brooks.
He cursed under his breath, spun on his heel, and stormed out of my house. The door slammed so hard the frame rattled.
“West!” I shouted, chasing after him. By the time I got the door open, he was already past Marshal, barking at him to take me wherever I needed to go. He kept walking, shoulders rigid, hands tearing through his hair like he was trying to claw something out of his skull.
“West!” I yelled again. “Come back!”
He didn’t. He just kept going, nearly to the edge of my neighbor’s yard, swallowed by the dark stretch of the street.
I wanted to run after him. God, every cell in my body wanted to. But I froze.
He’d already told me it was over. That the marriage we’d been parading around was done. He’d said it like it was supposed to be mercy, like freeing me was the best thing he could give me. I knew he meant it for me, for my dad, for my life. But that didn’t make it hurt less.
So I stood there, arms wrapped around myself, watching him disappear.
His suit and polished shoes looked so wrong against my old neighborhood. He didn’t belong here, and I had to trust he could take care of himself. What I needed to do was take care of my dad.
I thought about grabbing my car keys, but the old thing wouldn’t have made it halfway to Atlanta, and it was too late to risk it anyway. Plus, one look into my driveway and I realized my car was still parked outside of Fiddlers, where I had left it when I left with West. I didn’t feel like climbing into the SUV with Marshal either, not when I no longer felt like Mrs. Brooks.
The magic had vanished in the slam of a door.
I locked the house, turned off the lights, and texted Dad quickly to let him know I’d be by in the morning with his things. He didn’t respond, which was good because that meant he was probably already asleep.
The house was too quiet. Too dark. But I paced around, and every time I passed a window, I peeked out. Marshal was still there, sitting in the SUV alone, waiting. But there was no sign of West. Not in either direction.
After an hour, I gave up and crawled into bed. It should’ve felt comforting with my own sheets, my own pillows, but it didn’t. Without West, the mattress was cold, the room felt empty, and the silence pressed in like punishment.
“What the hell, West?” I whispered into the dark. “What the hell is going on?”
I tossed and turned, my chest aching, the confusion gnawing at me until I was raw. Hours earlier, it had been one of the best nights of my life. Now it felt like heartbreak and ashes.
