“No. He won’t tell me yet. But he says he will. He just wants to get to know each other again. He’s afraid I’m going to judge him.” I trace circles into my coloring book page, outside all the lines. “He must’ve done something horrible, Delilah.”
“Obviously.” Her head shakes and her eyes widen. “I know you think you loved him, but you two were just a couple of kids. You didn’t even know what love was back then.”
I stop tracing circles.
“It’s been seven years. You’re completely different people,” she says. “Royal did something bad. Bad enough that Dad made him stay away.”
Yeah. Our father is the only person who knows what happened. He hasn’t told my mother. Or Derek. Or me. He heard my cry myself to sleep for months and refused to give me so much as an explanation. The only thing he said to me was that anything I could possibly imagine would be a million times better than what actually happened.
“You don’t think people can change for the better?” I ask.
“Of course they can.” My sister’s words snip. “That’s not my point. My point is, you’ve moved on. You’re engaged to Brooks. You’re a grown woman. Your entire life is ahead of you. You don’t need to be drudging up the past, no matter how tempting it might be.”
“I’m not drudging up the past.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.” She exhales loudly. “I know you, Demi. You’ve been stuck in the past for years. You were finally moving on, and now it’s like you’re taking ten giant steps back. I see it. You don’t want to talk about Brooks. Truth be told, you don’t even act that upset about it. I worry that you’re internalizing, and that’s going to cause you to seek comfort in all the wrong places.”
Wrong places clearly meaning: Royal.
I throw the crayon at the tin. It hits the side and bounces off until it rolls down the table and falls to the dense carpet with hardly a sound. Not quite the statement I was trying to make.
“How am I supposed to act? You tell me. Do you want me to cry? Starve myself? Hang out at the bars? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Just don’t accuse me of not being sad. This entire situation is depressing.” I huff. “In more ways than you’ll ever know.”
Delilah reaches across the table, placing her hand on mine. I wonder if it’s a technique they taught her at school, in her counseling classes. I love my sister, and I know she’s going to make a great therapist someday, but right now, she’s annoying the piss out of me.
“Demi.” She says my name softly and calmly. Her eyes study me, like she’s psychoanalyzing me. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Stop. Stop, stop, stop.” I drag my hand out from under hers. “Don’t go in shrink-mode. Just go back to being my sister. I like that version of you better. This one freaks me out.”
“Fine.” Her hands fly, palms out. “You want me to be real with you? Stop entertaining anything having to do with Royal.”
My jaw hangs. She knows damn well I need this closure. She knows more than anyone.
“You’re engaged. Do you realize how bad this looks? The entire town of Rixton Falls is upset about Brooks. People are rooting for him. Donating money. There are prayer circles every night at St. Andrews. Did you know that? And there’s a charity auction next weekend. The Rixton Falls Herald has a special page on their website dedicated to updates on Brooks.” Delilah tilts her head. “If people see you hanging out with Royal while your future husband lies comatose, they’re going to talk. The Rixton Falls rumor mill is alive and well. They’re thirstier than ever, and it’s been a long time since they’ve had anything this juicy to talk about.”
“I just want to keep him around long enough to find out what happened. I have no intention of doing anything remotely inappropriate.”
“Doesn’t matter what your intentions are. All that matters is how it looks from the outside. No one gives a damn about the truth, Demi. Not when a version of the truth is ten times more entertaining.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you. And I know you’re not wrong,” I say. “But I have to know what happened seven years ago. I have to know why he left. I’m not shutting him out until I get my answer.”
“Does it matter?” Her frankness hurts. “After all this time, does it really even matter? Life moved on. It moved on without him. Your life is over there now.” She points toward the hall that leads to the corridor housing Brooks’s room. “Brooks Abbott is your life now.”