“But you still keep in contact with your birth parents?” Gen props her elbows on the center dash so she can talk to us both at once.
“We don’t know our dad. It’s just our mom—Connie.And yes. Well,I do,” Sloane tells Gen, the hopeful air with which she speaks about our birth mom making my stomach turn.
“How did you find her?” I ask her, but I already know the answer.
Sloane winces, knowing the conversation at hand is a serious one. I can tell she wants to bail. Find any excuse to make this conversation more trivial than it is.
“Technically she found me.” She casts her eyes down at her fries, chewing on the straw of her shake.
“So she wants something, then,” I say, disbelief and hatred coating my words.
“You don’t know that!” Sloane shouts, stunning me a bit, but I recover. When I check to see if Gen is okay, she’s looking back like she’s wondering the same about me.
Sloane’s always had a soft spot for Connie. Every few years, up until we were about fourteen, she’d crawl out of the woodwork wanting to see us. Usually, it resulted in Sloane “lending” her some of her trust fund. She’s always run at our mother’s every whim, just like she is now. I stopped agreeing to see Connie shortly after we got adopted, when I finally realized we were only useful to her when she needed something. That my value to her wasn’t inherent and priceless. That our new home was just a cash cow to her. That leaving us wasn’t hard at all, because if it was, she wouldn’t keep doing it.
“I do.” My jaw is set and so is Sloane’s. Gen’s hand finds mine, lacing her fingers through mine, and her subtle squeeze has me taking a breath.
I don’t understand why Sloane can’t just let this go. Why she always allows this woman back into her life to hurt her.
“Well, I’m going to see her.”
I shake my head in disbelief, but I know there’s no stopping her. Sloane is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. If she wants to do something, she just will.
“It’s been years, Grant…” Her voice is almost a whisper and I glance over to her. Tears start to wet her eyes, but she has this sense of hope lacing her features that instantly makes my heart drop. Yes, I’m frustrated—I don’t need this negativity in my life especially with the draft this year, but I love my sister. Even though I know it won't, I want this to work out for her.
“You can stay at my place,” I say, letting my voice sound warmer than it feels. I hate that Sloane always puts me in this situation but when she smiles brightly back, I can’t help but feel a little better.
“Oh, one more thing…” she adds. I roll my eyes and give her a look that I hope shows her that she’s on thin ice and she returns it with a mischievous but pleading look of her own. “Can you maybe not tell our parents that I’m here?”
I drop Sloane off first, craving just a minute of peace before becoming roommates with her again. The moment it’s just Gen and I, I hear her shift in her seat.
“So that’s Sloane.”
“That’s my twin,” I say, heading toward her apartment. “I’m sorry you had to sit through that.”
“I’m sorry I intruded,” she says with a nervous chuckle, and when I look over, she's looking down, fidgeting with her hands. I still them with my own, the cabin of my truck quiet enough that I can hear the steady in and out of her breath.
“Don’t be. I liked having you here.” My thumb brushes across her knuckles. “You kept me from losing it.”
Her eyes twinkle in the darkness and her lips curve into a smirk as I park in front of her building.
“So you won’t see her?” she quietly adds, like she’s unsure if she should pry.
“No. I won’t,” is all I tell her, but I know there’s more.
“If I could see my dad again, I would.” And it has my chest sinking, the sadness woven between the words. But it’s not the same.
“What happened?” I realize all I know is that he died, but nothing else.
“He was sick for a long time. Probably longer than I knew. So.” She sighs deeply before regarding me seriously. “I just don’t think you should take any time you have with her for granted.”
“Well, I’ve never been worth her time.” I choke onworth, suddenly feeling raw. Her hand covers mine before she lifts it and kisses it, feather light.
If I could hide I would, because her gaze feels so perceptible. I can feel her seeing me, the parts of me I barely show myself.
I force a smile on my face, sighing the emotion off and shrugging.
“I don’t miss her,” I say, but it feels like a lie. I shut off my car, rounding it to open her door.
