“What are you doing here?” I ask weakly.
“I work here... or I will. I got a job at Willow Valley Preschool.”
I give her a tight-lipped smile. “That's great. Congratulations, I guess.”
What do you say to someone you haven’t seen in fifteen years—to the sister who promised to come back for you but didn’t?
“It’s so good to see you, Cal?—”
“Callie. Nobody calls me Calliope anymore.” Except Jaxon. That name belongs to him now.
“Could we maybe grab a coffee or something? Catch up?”
I have the entire afternoon to myself, but I make a show of checking the time on my phone anyway. “I have to get going.”
She bites her cheek and glances down at her feet. “I understand. Maybe I'll see you around?”
When I don’t respond, she nods and turns to leave.
Against my better judgment, I stop her. “Wait.”
A flicker of something like hope flashes in her eyes, and try as I might, I can’t bring myself to disappoint her. She hurt me, but if there’s even a small chance for closure, I have to take it.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” I ask.
“No. I'm free.”
I consider asking her to lunch here in Willow Valley, but this place isn’t my home. Whatever happens, I want to be near my people.
I have people now.
“Do you still like horses?”
The lines in her forehead crease. “Yeah…”
“Ok. Give me your phone, and I'll text you the address. Does noon work for you?”
A smile stretches across her face, and for a fleeting moment, I see my big sister again. The one who kissed my cuts and bruises and sang me to sleep all those years ago. In the absence of a loving parent, I had Clio.
Until I didn’t.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s perfect. Can I give you a hug?"
I swallow around the lump in my throat and respond with a jerky nod. She doesn’t hesitate for a second, pulling me into her arms. My eyes turn glassy as I return the embrace.
She sniffles. “It’s good to see you.”
After a few heartbeats, she pulls away and squeezes both of my hands. I look down at where we’re connected and feel a sudden, stabbing pain in my chest.
“You're all grown up,” she says in a strangled voice.
The heedless observation sends my mind whirring. Of course, I'm grown up. It’s been fifteen years since she walked away and never looked back. I pull away and reinforce my armor, adopting a mask of apathy in the wake of her callous words. There’s a cutting remark on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back.
“I really should go. I’ll text you.” I turn from the woman who looks vaguely like the sister I once loved. Fresh tears gather in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I refuse to let this weaken me.
I make my way back to the ranch on autopilot. A harsh pang of disappointment pierces me when Jaxon’s truck isn’t in the driveway. Atticus greets me at the door, and I muster just enough energy to squat down and pet him.
I flick on the big light in the living room and search through the bookshelf for my worn copy of Alice inWonderland. Tucked within its pages is a faded photograph of my sister and me. I barely recognize my face. That little girl doesn’t exist anymore—the one with the bright smile clinging onto her big sister like she hung the moon and stars.
