“Okay,” I respond, my voice wavering slightly, hating every emotion that word stirred inside of me. It took me years before I could even say it, even more so calling Ronnie a Vargas after my dad adopted her. Turns out Ronnie’s dad never claimed her and even asked for money to sign away his rights to her. Of course, my dad did whatever he needed to do to keep her safe.
Nixie grins at me, and for some reason, it’s the most comforting thing I’ve felt all morning. She may not know the extent of what she’s stumbled upon, but there’s an understanding in her eyes that makes me feel slightly less alone. If only she knew how close to the truth she truly is, but I wouldn’t be the one to tell her. Not when Ronnie has made it clear that I’m her stepbrother and nothing more.
We finish the rest of our food in comfortable silence. We pick up the table as much as we can to make things easier for waitstaff, placing the tip right beside the small pile of plates. Nixie walks over to Ms. Linda, and I follow right behind her as she grabs Ronnie’s order, and I pay.
“It’s always so nice to see you kids, say hi to your parents and Ronnie,” Linda says, gently squeezing Nixie’s hands. We say our goodbyes and walk back to my Camaro and climb inside, and when I turn on the car, Ronnie’s favorite song plays in the background.
“Ojitos Lindos” by Bad Bunny.
It’s moments like this that have me shaking with rage, even fate longing for her and cruelly stealing her. The songs pull me into a trance of nostalgia and, as always, hand me off to longing. So many things I wish for. Pain rips through my chest, the kind that not even the small joys can relieve. No matter how much hopeand love I hold on to, nothing changes for me; I still suffer. For Ronnie. For things to be different. The harsh truth loud and clear—a constant fucking reminder that maybe, in this life, we are destined to be nothing more than just family.
My sister’s voice anchors me, dragging me back from my spiral. I glance over at Nixie. I listen to her singing along to the lyrics, and I join her. It’s likedéjà vu,but instead of Nixie, she’s replaced by the ghost of the girl I love. The lyrics echo in the car, merging with the roar of the engine and the hum of the tires against the asphalt.
Not even ten minutes later, we pull into Ronnie’s townhouse. I don’t fully have the car in park before she opens the door and steps outside. Nix darts out of the car and lunges towards Ronnie. Both act like they haven’t seen each other in years, when I bet it’s more like days. Still, the sight brings a smile to my lips, a warmth to my soul.
I focus on Ronnie, who looks beautiful as always. Without even trying. Her deep onyx waves are straight today, except for the red waves underneath the onyx. She’s wearing a Gorillaz band tee, long blue jean skirt, and black Vans. No makeup, and still beautiful.
Ronnie’s eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I see it, the love in her eyes. And, as always, quickly as it’s there, it’s gone, replaced with her usual mirthful smile, before disappearing into the townhouse.
It takes me a moment before I step out of the car and follow the girls inside. Mentally preparing myself for the rush of emotions that comes with walking into the home she shares with another man. It’s so much of her and so little of him, or maybe all I do is focus on the familiar scent of cinnamon and pumpkin that fills my nose every time I step inside. It’s Veronica’s signature scent, one that triggers a tsunami of emotions. As always, I feel the usual tidal wave of jealousy that internally crashes into me the moment I catch a glimpse of Max’s things.
My smile fades into a scowl as my eyes roam through the sea of pictures of the happy couple scattered around, alongside one of us. Finally, my gaze lands on the picture of a younger us, sitting by the stream sharing a popsicle. To others, it maynot be a grand or significant place, but to me, it holds the moment I understood the word love.
Something that reminds me, even in her silence and denial, my girl still loves me.
“Iz, you shouldn’t have,” Ronnie’s voice rings in my mind, drifting my attention to her as she opens a bag containing a chocolate chip muffin from Ms. Linda’s place, her eyes lighting up in delight. “You sure know how to please a woman.” She grins as she takes the muffin out of the bag. The only sensible response is one too inappropriate to voice, but the only one that rings true.I only know how to please you. However, the words die in my throat, and all I can muster is a wink and a sad smile.
She takes a bite, her eyes closing at the taste, and starts to laugh about something Nixie whispers in her ear. I lean against the doorframe, not really participating in their conversation, yet unable to look away from my girls. Watching them as they playfully banter, before moving towards the couch and after fussing over what to watch. “Ehh, that’s boring,” Nix protests, trying to snatch the remote from Ronnie’s hand as I push off the wooden frame.
“Nixie!” Ronnie shrieks, continuing to surf through the titles.
“That one!” Nix shouts. It’s unanimous.
Truthfully, no other movie stood a chance; per usual, the choice fell onTwilight. Taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch, like always, something stood between us. This time it’s the source of our joy and the source of our greatest pain. Our little sister.
The room falls quiet, and truthfully, I dissociate the moment Bella walked on screen. An hour into the movie, and I’m already blinking away the boredom. I look over at my sister, noticing Nixie has fallen asleep, leaving Ronnie and me alone.
Feeling antsy, I get up from the couch and walk out to her back deck. Pulling out my little black tube from my pocket, I take out my pre-roll. Lighting it up, Iinhale the sour diesel and moon dust blunt. Closing my eyes, I let my mind drag me to the memory of why this particular one became my favorite.
“Is that weed?” Ronnie’s voice startles me, causing me to choke on the herby smoke. She smacks my back, trying to help me from choking even further. Using my hand, I try to tell her I’m fine. Seriously, this couldn’t be any more embarrassing.
“I’m fine…”
She stops, folding her arms across her chest as her grey orbs roam over me. “So you’re smoking pot now?”
I hold up the lit joint, no point in lying. “You should try it.”
It was a joke, of course, I expected some kind of retort, but Ronnie is a wildcard—never knowing what you’re gonna get. And I love it. She steps forward, giving me a full view of the curves of her breast. The orange tank top hugs her skin so tightly that it pushes it up into her chest. The sight is enough to make my body hum with need. I can’t help but swallow hard before my gaze drops to her perfectly toned legs from all the hiking and running.
After a moment of silence, she inches forward, her stormy irises dancing with mischief. “I’ll try it.”
My brow arches, a smirk playing on my lips. “You wanna try it?”
She unfolds her arms, giving me full sight of her, and shrugs. Making my heart make its one rhythm, just for her. “Sure, we’re home alone.”
Alone.
With her.
