“Oh, please,” Brenda chuckles, a sound that makes my skin crawl. “In this town? You probably knew before his lawyer did. Everyone’s wondering who’s going to be the first to move in on that. He’s a catch, even with the baggage.”
And the irony of it almost makes me laugh, because if they knew anything about the past, they wouldn’t be wondering who’d move in. They’d already have a name.
She looks at me, waiting. She’s fishing. She wants to see if I’ll bite, to see if the rumor that’s been simmering for years is finally going to boil over.
“I have a lot of work to get through, Brenda,” I say, finally turning the key and pushing my door open. “Have a good day.”
I shut the door behind me and lean my back against the wood, my eyes closed. I’m trembling.
This is what Jace doesn't understand. To him, the divorce is an end. To me, it’s a target on my back. I am no longer just a friend or a "maybe." I feel like a suspect in a crime no one has accused me of… yet.
I walk over to my desk and sit down, but I don’t turn on my computer. I just sit there in the dim light of my office, clutching Jace’s memory like a secret I’m not sure I’m allowed to keep.
“Don’t disappear,”I had told him.
Chapter Eighteen
The Brother’s Burden
Sierra
The apartment feels unfamiliar in a way I can’t quite name. It’s smaller than the house I shared with Jace, less polished, less curated. Nothing echoes here. It’s a one-bedroom space downtown, there are no chores to lose myself in to avoid Jace’s gaze, and no husband to pretend for. There is just me, the ghost of a baby I lost, and the crushing weight of a name I can’t seem to outrun.
I’m on my hands and knees in the small galley kitchen, scrubbing the baseboards. I’ve already cleaned the windows and organized my closet as much as I can because it’s so small. My hands are raw, the skin stinging from the bleach, but I can’t stop. If I stop, the silence starts to sound like my father’s voice.
A Carter woman builds her own reputation, Sierra. One crack and they’ll swear the whole thing was rotten. Do not be the reason this family fails.
The doorbell echoes through the small space, and I jump, my heart hammering against my ribs. I stay on the floor for a second, catching my breath. I check my reflection in the oven door, pale, tired, but the bun is tight and my clothes are wrinkle-free. Disciplined. Always disciplined.
I open the door to find Griffin. My big brother. The only person in the Carter bloodline who doesn't look at me like a balance sheet. He looks exhausted, his shoulders slumped as he leans against the doorframe.
"Sierra," he breathes, stepping inside. He doesn't wait for me to invite him; he never has. He spots the bucket of soapy water and the scrub brush on the floor, and his face crumples. "God, Sia. You’re doing it again. You’re scrubbing the life out of the room just so you don't have to live in it."
"I just wanted it clean, Griff," I say, my voice trembling. "I thought once the paperwork was finished and weeks had passed, the... the weight would lift. But everything still feels so heavy. I just need to feel like I’m in control of something."
Griffin walks over, gently taking the brush from me and tossing it into the bucket. He doesn't snap at me. He reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes full of a protective warmth that makes my throat ache.
"You don't have to be 'on' for me," he whispers. "I know how they are. I grew up in that same house, remember? I know how Dad looks at you like you’re a trophy he’s worried about dropping. You’re safe with me."
"I don't feel safe," I admit, the words cracking. "I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. If I’m not the perfect daughter, if I’m not the 'brave divorcee' they can market to their friends, they’ll turn their backs. You know how they work. Everything is conditional."
Griffin sighs, pulling me into a hug. He smells like the outdoors and the shop where he works with Knox. "They won't touch you. Not while I’m breathing." He pulls back, his expression turning serious. But we need to talk about why you’re really falling apart," Griffin says, his voice steady but heavy with a truth I'm not ready for. “Is it Jace? Or is it Knox being right across town, and you’re running out of places to hide from what you don’t want to feel?”
The mention of Knox’s name makes the room spin. I stumble back, hitting the counter, my heart slamming against my ribs. "What? I... I don't know what you mean, Griffin. Knox is your friend. He has nothing to do with—"
Griffin raises an eyebrow, a look of tired clarity on his face that stops the breath in my lungs. "I know, Sierra. I’ve always known you felt something for Knox. I saw it in the little things… the way you always went quiet when he walked into a room.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out as a choked, desperate sound. "It was just a crush, Griff. A childhood thing. It didn't mean—"
I shake my head, my hands trembling as I grip the edge of the counter. "It doesn't matter, Griffin. It never mattered. You know how this family works. Even if... even if there was something there, Dad would have never allowed it. I did what I was supposed to do."
"Is that what you call it?" Griffin asks softly, taking a step toward me. "Doing what you were supposed to do? You've spent your whole life trying to be the daughter they want, Sia. But look at you. You’re exhausted. You’re terrified of your own shadow. Was the 'Carter reputation' really worth this?"
The way he says it, like I’ve lived my life for a prize that doesn't exist, makes something snap inside me. All the years of pretending, the weight of the secret, and the sheer terror of that night in our father's study come rushing to the surface.
"They would have destroyed me, Griffin!" I shout, the sound startling both of us. "You know what they said when they found out I was pregnant. They didn't ask if I was okay. They asked how we were going to 'fix' the optics. I was twenty-seven, a grown woman, and I was still shaking in my boots because Dad threatened to cut me out of the family entirely if the father wasn't someone 'respectable.'"
I slide down the cabinets until I’m sitting on the floor again, burying my face in my hands.
