“Silas,” she hiccuped, wrapping her arms around herself.
I finally got my jaw up off the ground. “It’s whatever. Really. I just can’t believe the scene you made at the beach, probably completely ruining any chance I had with Clem—and you’ve been macking on my brother this entire time.”
“No, dude, it’s not like that,” Holden started.
“It wasn’t premeditated. It just happened.” Christy added.
“Maybe not for you.” I scoffed in Holden’s direction. I really couldn’t care less who Christy made out with. I wasn't jealous. It was Holden. For him to be so skeezy…I mean, he’d always handled females differently than me…but I was his brother. His flesh and blood.
I had a lightbulb moment and aimed myself at him. “So this is why you got all huffy that one day in Mom and Dad’s kitchen. Ah, it all makes sense now. You were falling in love with Christy.”
Holden opened his fat mouth to explain, but I cut him off.
“I literally don’t care.” I turned to Christy. “We were done long before this, but just to be clear, we are completely over.” I shook my head, disgusted. “You wriggle your way into my family and wreak full-blown havoc on my life, and then top it off with this.” I did a slow clap. “I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone more selfish.” She was silently sobbing now.
"Hey, that's enough." Holden stepped up next to her. His expression said I was out of line.Iwas out of line.
I aimed my parting words at Christy. "You know what? It’sfine. You deserve someone who loves you enough that he’d stab his own brother in the back. You do. I can’t blame you for that. You truly deserve each other.” Sophie probably would’ve put her boot up my butt for flipping her words around.
I turned to my brother, hands in my pockets. “And Ho-bags, well…I'm sure Savannah stopped rolling over in her grave long ago at the list of women you've blown through. Probably nothing you do shocks her anymore. Too bad you can't just let her rest in peace.”
Holden crumpled, his hands folded up behind his head, the shock landing like an invisible punch to the jaw. I threw my hands out in spectacular jackass fashion and took a bow. It was probably the most hateful jab I'd ever taken in my life. We didn’t talk about the girl whose death had shattered Holden’s life. Ever. Holden wouldn’t allow it. But at that moment, I didn’t care. Holden had been my safe place in the last year while Sophie was dying. And now that was riddled with buckshot. I pulled the car keys out of my pocket and tossed them to my normally loquacious brother who suddenly couldn’t find a single word.
Christy stood there, hugging herself, mortified.
“Good riddance.” I turned and walked away, laughing in disgust. Why were they even here? Holden should’ve been at the beach and Christy on a flight home. I flung myself over the fence and cut across the field to Mom and Dad’s, not even caring.
Well, one thing was for sure, I wouldn’t spend anymore time feeling bad about breaking Christy’s heart. Looked like my brother had patched her right up.
thirty-one
CLEMENTINE
It had been eleven days since the beach house. Eleven days since I’d lost my baby. Anyone watching from the outside probably would’ve thought I was handling things well. My body had healed, and I was already back teaching at the studio. But my heart still had a long way to go.
I’d barely begun to get excited about the prospect of being a mom when the miscarriage happened. At least, I’d barely begun to let myself admit my excitement. Truth was, I’d gotten attached to the little human growing inside of me. I’d made big plans for us and Anna, of course. And then Silas.
The past week and a half, alone in my house again, had been harder than right after Sophie died. With Anna and Silas, it had brimmed with happiness, laughter, sarcasm, teasing…all the good and wonderful things about life. I felt their absence keenly.
The hardest part of losing the baby was the not knowing. Would I ever get the opportunity to try again? And if I did, would I lose that one too? The doctor said there wasn’t anything wrong with the fetus. Sometimes it just happens. Butthe worry was still there, a constant fear in the corner of my mind.
I headed for the guest bedroom to do some tidying. It was time. Silas’s bed was still haphazardly made—a reminder of how he and Anna had rushed off to the beach so early. I pulled back the blankets, yanked the sheets off, and piled them onto the mattress. Granny Eudora’s old alarm clock, the kind that flipped a new number every minute, was still on the nightstand after all these years, and I noticed the date.
The ninety days was up. Yeah, we’d failed. This wasn’t a new realization. I’d known it since I left the beach in the dust. The loss of Anna was tightly tangled around the loss of the baby. And Silas. I didn’t know how to unwind any of it. It might take me months or years to figure out how.
I hurried to my bedroom to retrieve Sophie’s letter. I’d stuffed it in the top drawer of my walnut dresser. Sitting on the end of my bed, I tried not to think about how these would be the last words my best friend would ever say to me.
I tore the envelope open. When I slid the blue stationary out, an additional letter fell onto my lap. I picked it up and smiled. It resembled our notes from middle school, back before we’d given up paper for texting. The note was folded carefully into a perfect rectangle with a triangle tuck holding it together. The paper was lined, probably torn out of a school notebook, and it had yellowed over time. Was this an actual letter from when we were kids?
I opened the stationery letter first, in case.
A sentence was underlined at the top of the page:
Read this before you read the note.
Ok. Good choice. I took a deep breath and began.
Dear Lemon,
