Junkie(81)

Ah, I remembered that day. The day she asked me if I was disappointed in her when she got pregnant with Nova. We’d had a talk that day in the kitchen. Those words had tumbled out in the moment, and I regretted them instantly. I wished I could take them back, but I couldn’t. Thankfully, we’d been interrupted and never finished the conversation. Life took over, and she never brought it up.

Until now.

I’d been talking about Trent. About the way he made me feel, even back then. About how moving here had opened up so many sides of me I’d buried or even left locked. Being here made me feel like I was actually embracing the real me. At times, it was scary as hell.

“This…” I began. “Racing, chasing my dreams, and not living the life Dad always pushed on me. It’s been freeing, you know?”

She studied me for a long moment. I wondered what she was thinking.

“Is that all?” she finally asked.

“What else would there be?”

“I’m not sure.” Her eyes never left my face. It made me uncomfortable. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Her voice was so genuine and sincere, the awkwardness I felt evaporated, and I felt bad for it being there at all. “Yeah, Ives, I know.”

She pushed up onto tiptoes and hugged me. I hugged her back as tight as I dared and held her for a few minutes. I wondered if she felt the pounding of my heart.

“I love you,” Ivy whispered. “No matter what.”

“I love you, too,” I echoed.

I swallowed past the lump suddenly lodged in my throat. It was almost like she was telling me. Saying she saw more than she let on, that she knew more than she said.

As if she somehow knew I was in love with Trent.

She loved me anyway.

Not one ounce of anything other than love came from my sister.

Something in me loosened a little. Kind of like a shoe that had been tied to tight and was finally unlaced.

I squeezed her just a little tighter before letting her go.

When she stepped back, she wiped her eye and smiled. “C’mon, we gotta get you dressed!”

I picked up some kind of vest I didn’t even know I owned, and she pulled it from my fingers. “The shirt first!”

I picked up a black T-shirt with long sleeves and put it on, taking care to tuck the speedometer necklace beneath the neck. Next, she handed me the black vest made of thick cotton that zipped up the front.

“Where the hell did this come from?” I wondered as I put it on.

“I gave it to you for Christmas last year.” She stuck her tongue out at me.

It was fitted close to my body and had this huge collar thing. The zipper went all the way to the top of the collar. “Who wears this? Giraffes? The neck is huge.”

“That’s the style.” Her voice was exasperated as she reached up and flipped the ends up. “See, the zipper adds a detail, and the neck turned up like this draws the eye to your face and jawline. It works well with the whole scruffy look you’ve been wearing lately, too.”

Next, she tucked the front of my T-shirt behind my belt buckle and adjusted the front of the vest, leaving it open. “Wear your leather jacket over this and leave the collar up. Add the black boots you have downstairs, the ones with the slight heel, because they will make you even taller.”

I was already six feet. Why I needed to be taller I wasn’t sure, but whatever.

“So all black?” I asked, totally digging the color but surprised she was.

“It’s edgy. Mysterious. It’s actually kinda badass.” She stepped back and studied her handiwork. “Sit on the bed.”

She rushed from the room and came back with that hair crap she bought me and put some on her fingers. Ivy stepped between my legs and styled my hair. I was glad, ‘cause it always looked better when she did it.

“Aren’t they going to have people there to do my hair?” I asked.

She made a sound, and I figured that meant I should shut up, so I did.

“There,” Ivy said and stepped back. “You’re ready.”

“Thanks, Ives. You saved my image.” I pressed a hand over my heart.

“Don’t you mock me, Andrew.” Her finger wagged in my face.

I grabbed my empty mug and kissed her on the head. “I need more coffee.”

At the bottom of the stairs, I headed for the kitchen, but I didn’t make it that far. I noticed Ivy hanging back near the archway, looking into the living room, and I stopped beside her.

I did a good job not physically reacting for a man who felt like he took a deft punch to the stomach. Trent was in the living room with Nova. They were on the floor, playing. There wasn’t anything unordinary about it.

Yet there was.