Steph snorts and whips her waist length black hair over her shoulder in silent demand. I grasp it and start braiding the wild tresses as Stephanie peppers Eleanor with more questions.
“Are you planning on kids?”
Eleanor’s hand rises to her own braid as she watches my hands. “Not right now.”
It’s good to know she’s not against it completely, meaning she probably does want them at some point. As do I.
“Marriage?”
“An institution I’m not interested in.”
Huh, that’s a layer I need to uncover. It’s not a deal breaker, but I’d like to know why she’s set against it.
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in tech.”
I smile, rolling my eyes as I do the final few twists on Steph’s braid. That’s skirting the facts.
“Do you like dogs?”
“Only Charlie.”
I wrap the hair band I always come with around the end of her hair to secure it. I don’t know where she loses them each and every week, but she never seems to hold on to the same one for more than a day or two.
Stephanie spins to face me. “I like her. She’s got a good bullshit meter, which means you can’t pull your normal crap and hide your feelings.”
Nope, that prize goes to Eleanor. If we both guard our hearts, neither of us are going to get anywhere, so I was the first to offer a piece of mine. I still can’t believe she’s treasured it.
“I like her too.”
Stephanie snorts as she stands and shakes her head to test the durability of her braid. Seeming satisfied, she spins in a circle, her white ankle-length summer dress floating around her like an angel. I catch Eleanor’s gaze as it falls to Steph’s wrists. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only understanding.
We walk with Stephanie around the garden, stopping so she can pick some plums and hand them to Eleanor. “They are so sweet,” Stephanie gushes. “Go on, try one.”
Eleanor obliges and grins with a nod, the juice making her lips glisten. “They are very sweet.”
An hour passes and Stephanie sits down back at her bench. Exhaustion seeps into her features, aging her before my eyes. “I think I need to rest,” she says with a yawn.
I squat down and kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you Wednesday, okay?”
She smiles, pressing her forehead against mine. “Will you bring a slice of peach pie?”
“Anything for you.”
She lays across the sun warmed wood, her head on her arm, and closes her eyes. She is always tired for a few days after an episode, and the vice clamps around my chest. “She’s very pretty, Hunter,” she mumbles. “Don’t fuck it up.” Then her face goes slack, and she drifts off.
Eleanor is silent as we make our way out of the hospital and for at least twenty minutes in the car, so when she finally speaks, it makes me jump.
“What happened?”
Here goes. “Stephanie is my younger sister.”
“I deduced that.”
“She went to college to study English Lit, with goals of being an author one day. She was happy and carefree, and had a whole future ahead of her. Top of her class and everything to live for.” I glance at Eleanor to see her staring at me, listening to every word I say and absorbing it deep within herself. I shift my gaze back to the road, the knot in my throat relaxing enough for me to keep speaking. “She rarely went out partying, preferring the company of books, coffee, and good friends to loud music, beer kegs, and jocks. But it was Halloween, and the girls had been invited to the biggest party on campus, so they dressed up and went out.” My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I relive a trauma that is not my own. “She was drugged at the party, and six guys raped her for hours. They had a bet on bedding the book nerd, and none of them wanted to lose. When the drugs wore off, she took herself to the hospital and got her injuries assessed. She had a concussion, tears in both her vagina and anus, her body was littered with bruises, and she had a hairline fracture on her wrist and two of her ribs.”
“Fucking hell,” she says before squeezing my thigh. “Pull over, Hunter.”
