“Get it off your chest, Mom,” I urged, watching her stroke her hairless cat.
“I want you here, Kiyah—weall do. We lost Papa and Mimi a few years ago, Granddad is steadily declining, and Grandma is slowing down. It’s a tough time for the family. I’m always stressed worrying about you, Kiyah. Shit, I get fucking anxiety every time I receive a call from an unknown number. I never know when I’ll pick up and someone is telling me that my daughter was found dead in a ditch thousands of miles from home and I need to come identify her body. Baby, I’m sorry to break it to you, but you won’t find whatever you’ve been looking for out there. It’s been seven years, and you haven’t found it yet. You’re running from something. I don’t know what it is, but distance won’t fix it; therapy will. You belong here—not out there doing God knows what with whoever the fuck.”
She’ll always have a potty mouth. I’m glad to see that some things never change.
“Did someone hurt you?” she pried.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Did we do something wrong?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then what?” she pressed, becoming increasingly frustrated.
Should I tell her? Should I finally get this seven-year burden off my chest? Should I finally connect the missing puzzle piece that’ll explain why I feel so out of place amongst the sea of their smiling faces?
“Kiyah, you left me!” Daisy screeched upon entering the house.
Saved by the loud-ass little sister.
“I didn’t think you would mind. You seemed too busy getting fingerbanged in the corner of the conference room. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“What in the world?” Mom muttered.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s exaggerating,” Daisy said, defending her honor. “We have to go. I called the bridal boutique and squeezed us in for a last-minute appointment. After that, we’re going to the salon to get our hair and nails done, followed by a lobster lunch and shopping—courtesy of Dad. Let’s go.”
“You’ll first explain to me why I received a call from Simone accusing you of stealing Nori’s hearing aids,” Mom said.
“Seriously? No one gives a fuck about my black eye?” Daisy exclaimed, her arms thrown out in exasperation.
“Well, what did you do to her?” we asked.
Chapter Three
Grant
I parked outside the steakhouse our family frequented for special occasions and wondered if it was too late to come up with a last-minute fire that needed my personal attention. In my opinion, spending thousands of dollars on a meal to welcome home the perpetual prodigal daughter was insane. Our parents were enablers to the fullest extent. Kiyah would blow through town on a whim, and they’d roll out the fucking red carpet for her and have their hearts broken when she made a U-Turn right out of their lives again. Kiyah Baker was selfish, entitled, and ungrateful, yet simultaneously beautiful, enigmatic, and larger than life.
I escaped to my office because I was worse than Mom and Dad. If I saw her face-to-face, all those harsh feelings of disappointment and abandonment would dissipate and be replaced with hope and longing. Pathetically, I’d beg her to stay—not for our family’s peace of mind but for me—only me. Once, I made the mistake of telling her that if she’d ever loved me, she’d stay, and in response, she told me if I ever loved her, I’d let her go. But it wasn’t that simple. I’d loved her for as long as I could remember—back when I used to tug on her long ponytails in admiration, when I used to scare the boys away under the guise of being the protective older brother, when we’d spar in thebackyard, and when I used to do wild shit with her even though I was scared to death.
But for some fucking reason, my love isn’t enough for her, is it? It never has, and she’s made it perfectly clear that it never will be. I know what I have to do, but I’m afraid that once I do, all I’ll be stuck with are memories, empty promises, and a bottle of something that’ll make me temporarily forget—at least for the night.
Knocking at the window kicked up the corner of my mouth. My gaze slid over to Kieran, who had his face pressed against the tinted glass. “Big Bro.”
I gave him a lot of shit, but Kieran was endearing with a big heart. He was outgoing, and in school, he was always popular. He was voted “Most likely to run into a burning building to save a puppy,” while I was voted “Most likely to achieve world domination.” It could’ve been worse; I could’ve earned “Most likely to get expelled” like Kiyah and “Most likely to get away with murder” like Daisy.
Unsurprisingly, Kiyah was nearly expelled for being the organizer of an underground gambling ring in the girls’ bathroom when Dad cut her allowance as punishment for some shit she did. He accused her of behaving like a criminal; she declared she was being an innovative entrepreneur.
Imagine teenage girls in navy blue blazers, ties, pleated skirts, knee-high socks, and loafers shooting dice on the bathroom floor with their ringleader holding a handful of cash.
“C’mon… you have to say it,” Kieran begged with a playful lilt.
A smile erupted on my face before saying, “Little Bro.”
“Come join us at the bar. We’re still waiting for the girls to arrive.”
I huffed a breath of annoyance.
