“I hated Kris for so long. She promised me she would give up on it. She promised she would always be here for me—that she’d always take care of me. She promised that she would be just as caring and sweet as Mom. She promised that when my dream happened, she would be backstage, rooting me on. She broke all her promises. I haven’t seen Kris since I was nineteen years old. It kills me to know it’s been five years.
“The last time I talked to her was when the band had just signed our record deal. We were happy, money was rolling in, and I’d even bought my own condo. I don’t know how Kris found me, but she showed up at my doorstep one day. She looked terrible, Eliza. Sick,” he said, his eyes horrified. “She was skinnier than I’d ever seen her before. Bags were beneath her eyes; her hair was matted; her lips were chapped. She said she was okay, but I knew she was doing every drug in the book. Of course I let her in. She was still my sister. I still loved her. I even let her stay at my place that night and begged her not to leave.
“She did anyway… and she took most of the money I had in my closet. She… robbed me. And I hated her. It took years for me to forgive her. I got drunk as hell one day and called my dad to ask for her number. It was stupid of me, but I ended up cursing her out. I was pissed. Unfortunately, Penelope showed up and heard every single word. She’d even found out my sister’s name. Now you see why I have to keep her close. She knows too much. I don’t want her ratting me or my family out, and as upset as I am with Kris, I don’t want anyone figuring out who she is or where she is and blasting it. I’d rather her be a nobody than for the whole world to know I have a damn crackhead for a sister. I still love her.”
I nodded, squeezing his hand.
He sighed, tears pricking at the rims of his eyes as he looked away. “I miss her… every day. I miss my mom. I miss them so much, and I wish my mom never sacrificed herself because if she hadn’t, Kris never would have taken that route. She never would have gotten raped. Never would have turned into a stripper. A druggie.”
“But you wouldn’t be where you are now, Gage. Your mom loved you,” I said.
He swallowed, shaking his head. “I know. It just… it hurts so fucking much. I would give it all up to be reunited with them again. I’d give up everything if my mom had a chance to come back.”
Gage clutched the edge of the bed, a tear falling down his cheek. I reached to wipe it, but more continued to fall and, eventually, he started sobbing. I held on to him as he let it all out. Now I knew why it was so hard for him to talk about it. Gage used to have a hard life. A terrible past. We had a lot in common and that frightened me. Now I knew why he didn’t want to let me go, why he always compared me to Kristina.
He went numb after she disappeared. While he was with her, he was happy, loved. His sister was his world; I knew it. He loved her deeply and I could tell by how much he was crying in my arms. Gage put all his emotions on hold until he met me. With me, he loved again, and knowing it made my heart ache even more. It was only getting harder for me to leave.
After a few minutes Gage finally settled down, clutching on to me as if I were going to let him go. His face was buried in my neck, his breathing light as it ran down my chest. I sighed, kissing his cheek. “You can tell me another time,” he whispered.
I nodded, understanding his statement, glad because I wasn’t up for freaking out and panicking. I had my inhaler in my bag, but I hated touching it because touching it meant I’d been thinking about my mom, the she-devil. Eventually we fell asleep in each other’s arms. He’d fallen asleep before me and before I drifted, I was thinking way too much.
I was worried—afraid I’d hurt him again. I didn’t want to hurt him like Kristina did, but I knew leaving was only going to rip his heart in half. I was torn, stuck between my life and my future and his heart. Each minute I thought on it, it got harder and harder for me to breathe, but I inhaled, holding him close and forcing myself to shut my eyes.
I didn’t know what I was going to do and time was only winding down. I had to let him know sooner or later.
STAY
The following morning, Gage and I called room service for some breakfast. I went with cinnamon-flavored oatmeal and sliced bananas, while Gage went with a simple bowl of cold cereal.
While we were eating, it kind of bothered me that he wasn’t saying much. Yes, he was still smiling and touching me, but it seemed a little off. I tried to think nothing of it, but every time I would look into his eyes, there were millions of questions behind them. There was also grief and hurt from last night.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked after finishing my cereal.
He looked at me over his bowl of cereal, his head nodding. “Fine, Ellie.”
“Are you sure? You seem kind of… off.”
He smirked, slurping down his milk before setting his bowl on the table. “I’m great, Ellie. I feel much better about last night, but… I wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay.” I straightened myself, dropping my spoon into my bowl. “Go ahead.”
“There are two things I wanna talk about.”
I nodded, gulping, and he sighed, running a hand through his wet hair.
“First thing is your PTSD. Tell me about it. Why it happens, how you control it… so on. You were trembling last night and whimpering. I didn’t know whether to wake you or leave you, but you woke yourself.”
“I did?” I whispered.
He nodded, but I couldn’t remember waking up at all.
I swallowed again, folding my fingers on top of the table. Behind Gage there was the window that revealed the New York harbor and the boats and yachts at bay. A few seagulls stirred around the sails, flapping diligently, twisting and turning. Before the sunrise, it was truly a beautiful sight.
“My mom…” I trailed off, shutting my eyes briefly and seeing her face appear. Gage’s chair scraped across the floor and I looked up just as he was standing to bring his chair beside me.
“What about her?” he asked.
“She was a bitch.” I laughed dryly. He didn’t smile, though. His face was stern, waiting for me to provide more. “Let’s just say she’s the worst mom on the planet. Since I’ve started storing memories, all the ones I have of her are terrible. She was manipulative, abusive, deceiving. She knew nothing about the value of family—nothing about protecting her own flesh and blood.” I gripped my spoon, but he leaned forward, loosening my grip and lacing his fingers with mine. “Should I start with my worst memory of her?” I asked, forcing a smile.
“If that’s what you’d like me to hear,” he whispered, watching my face intently. I gripped his hand, forcing myself not to break down. I was told over and over again by Ben not to relive it—to just forget about it—but being with Gage was making me think about it all over again. My past. My pain. All of it.
“Well… I had just turned thirteen. I was no longer a child, but a teenager, and quite frankly, I was excited about it. I didn’t expect my mom to get me anything for my birthday, but usually she would be a bit more lenient and leave me alone. At least she knew when my birthdays were.” I shrugged. He smiled.
“I remember it like it was yesterday. The day my mom got married, it was a few weeks after my thirteenth birthday. Her husband’s name was Jason. He had a beer belly, was balding; his teeth were rotten, and he had terrible body odor. I didn’t know what my mom saw in him. She was a bitch, yes, but she’s a spitting image of me. Pale skin and all. But she’s gorgeous. Same light-blue eyes, same nose, mouth, cheeks, and dimples. The only difference is her hair is darker and sandier than mine, but we’re complete opposites. I admit, I get my personality from Ben.” I lifted a lock of my hair, twirling it around my finger. I could feel Gage staring at me, but I was no longer looking his way. I was zoned in on my empty bowl, my eyes completely distant, remembering it all.
“Jaso was cool at first. We hardly talked to one another and that’s why I thought he was a nice guy—because he didn’t bother me. He worked for a plumbing company and worked early mornings and late nights. Sometimes he wouldn’t come home and I would find my mom crying in her bedroom, most likely over him. He was a cheater… a liar. Then there was one night during my eighth-grade year when things turned… bad.
“I was drawing at our dining table. Jason came home around one that morning and his eyes were bloodshot red. His clothes were all sloppy and disgusting, and as soon as he stepped in, his gaze locked on mine. Only his was deadly. Mom sat up on the sofa and stared at him. She was groggy, but she knew just as well as I did what was about to happen. She stood up and looked directly at me. ‘I told her,’ she said, pointing at me. ‘I told her exactly what you said and she didn’t do it. She didn’t wanna.’
“Jason slammed the door and I remember being scared shitless. ‘Then I guess a punishment is necessary for disobeyin’,’ he said. I was terrified. I’d never heard him sound so dark or even seen my mom quake with fear over him that much. Jason came for me and gripped my arm, and I yelped because his grip was way too tight. I remember it leaving a bruise that I had to cover up for weeks. My heart was beating a mile a minute as he yanked me in front of him, gripped a lock of hair on the back of my head, and shoved me on the floor.” I pressed my lips as my throat dried out. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling Gage squeeze my hand in his. A few kisses were placed on my cheek, my temple, and my forehead, until he whispered to me that it was okay and to keep going. I nodded, swallowing down all the emotion.