Claire: You okay alone? We work till 8.
Me: I’m good. I’ll be safe and will call later when you get off.
Tess: ‘k love. Keep us posted.
I pocket my phone and walk into Janie’s room.
“Hey,” she says. “What’s up?”
“I was just headed out for bit—need to shower and change.” I bite my lip. Clark said to hold off asking more questions, but maybe my questions for Janie are different than his. My questions start before Vegas. They start where she and I left off.
“Why did you stay away for so long?” I ask her, sitting on the edge of her hospital bed.
“More of this? God, Emmy. For fuck’s sake, give it a rest.”
I pull back. Maybe Clark was right.
“Okay,” I say, now more apprehensive. “I just missed you. I was all alone.”
“Sounds like you did just fine,” she says coolly. “Put yourself through college. Supported yourself. Why do you need me?”
“You’re my sister.”
“I just think we’re different,” Janie says, pursing her lips, eyes narrowed.
It’s like she’s trying to really see me, but I swear she doesn’t know how to open her eyes. She doesn’t really see me at all.
“Look, Em,” she continues. “I needed to be free. It’s like you kept trying to pin me down. Every time I called over the years, you were pushing on me to be something I wasn’t.”
“What are you then?” I ask, feeling near my edge with her. “What were you doing with Grotto? He’s a dangerous guy ... and yet he says you were close?”
“I don’t want to talk about Grotto.” Janie’s arms cross her chest, and I see glimpses of younger-Janie. The girl I either pretended she wasn’t or wanted to believe she had never been. The flighty, dismissive brat. The girl who never thought about me, about anyone but herself. The girl who left. The girl who was just like my mother and father.
I’ve always been alone. And it’s no different now. Something sketchy has gone on with her and Grotto, and I don’t want any part of it.
“I don’t think Ace was driving the car,” I tell her.
She snorts. “You believe him?”
“I do.” Maybe that’s what love is. Choosing to believe when I don’t have all the proof. And the thing is, maybe I already have all the proof I need.
Maybe the proof is in his kisses, the ones that are tender and real and mine. And maybe the proof is in his heart beating against my own chest as he holds me late at night. Maybe the proof is in the unknown, in the part where I stopped being scared of what was ahead and chose to give in to the deep-sea dive that is love.
Because suddenly I know that the waters ahead with Ace might be murky, but that’s okay. I won’t be swimming alone. He will have my hand, and we will find our way to the shore.
And my sister, she’s never felt this kind of love. Because you can’t be filled with hate and lies and also be filled with the promise of forever. You can’t have both.
Janie sneers at me. “Ace Royalle is a fucker. Your boyfriend hired hookers. He hired me.”
I shake my head, not even feeling angry. Just sad. Sad for her. “He contracted a company that hired escorts for his hotel. That’s different.”
“Is it?” Janie laughs smugly. “Tell yourself what you wanna hear, Em. I was with Ace. I fucked him. And then he left me to die in that crash.”
I know in my heart, as I look at my sister, that she and I are nothing alike—and I know, without a doubt, that Ace didn’t lie to me.
No way would he be with Janie.
And not because he was above fucking whores—but because he told me he hadn’t.
And I think I’ve had it all wrong my whole life. I’ve spent years believing I’m the one who’s broken, the one no one wants. The one who’s nothing but a wreck.
But maybe I came out of the wreckage a long time ago. I picked up the pieces. I told Ace I needed help doing that ... but maybe I already have.
Janie said it herself today. I did support myself, went to college against the odds. I’ve even been here, fighting for her, when she hasn’t given me any reason to.
I’m not shattered.
Maybe I’m not completely whole ... but I do feel whole when I’m with Ace.
“I need to go, Janie.”
“I bet you do.” Janie shakes her head, eyeing the phone. Her hands shake, her chest heaves. She doesn’t look well.
“You going to call Grotto now? Make plans to ruin more things?” I ask, shaking my head at her. Tears are falling from my face, and I don’t understand why she’s so cold, so detached. So unwilling to be in any of this with me.