“I know.”
She strokes my unwashed hair. “Let’s go Christmas shopping tomorrow. I’ll buy you some new stones. Candles. And then I’ll feed you tacos until you pass out with a smile on your face.”
My laugh is sob-drenched as I squeeze her tighter. “Sounds perfect.”
Pulling back, she leaves me with a flash of teeth. “I’ll text you around lunch.”
“Okay.”
And then she’s gone, her eyes meeting with Tag’s before she walks out the door, something unspoken passing between them.
I swipe at my face, fix my hair. Then I clear my throat. “I’ll get the steaks ready.”
Tag follows me into the kitchen. “I got it. Go rest.”
“I’ve been resting for months. I need to stay busy.”
“Do you even know how to cook them?”
“Dubious.” My chest tightens. “But it’s never too late to learn. Accomplishing a perfectly cooked, medium-rare steak was on my bucket list for twenty-three.”
“Annalise.”
Ignoring him, I rummage through the fridge, pulling out random items.
Steaks, Worcestershire sauce, mustard, raspberry jam.
Tag peers over my shoulder. “Are you planning on cooking, or committing a hate crime against fallen cows?”
I slam the fridge shut and sniff. “It’s called creativity.”
“It’s called let me handle it. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“Said I got it.”
I reach for the steaks and slam them on the counter. Then I peel them out, one by one, snatch a mallet, and start hammering on the beef until it tenderizes.
Until my heart tenderizes.
Until I can’t see through the tears, and the juices and blood start to blur into the horror movie that my life has become.
Tag’s hand flies out, snagging my wrist. “Sis…”
“No!” I shout, shoving him away. “Let me do this. I need to do this.”
“Annalise—”
“Go ahead,” I snap. “Tell me I’m losing it. Tell me I need to stay calm and to grow up.”
“No.” He exhales sharply. “I would never say that to you.”
I whip around, mallet still gripped in my hand. “Maybe you should. Maybe I need to hear it.”
“What you need is to put the murder weapon down and let me cook you a steak.”
“What I need ishim. I need Chase, Tag. Nothing feels right without him. I can’t do this. I can’t…” I toss the mallet on the counter and drag my hair back by the roots. “I hate this. Everyone is back to normal, as if we weren’t international superstars months ago. Kenna is lighting candles and humming Christmas songs. Rock is touring France, sipping wine with his girlfriend. Zach is off skiing with his daughter, and you’re living your best life like Chase walking out on us was a temporary blip. Like we’ll all be backstage together soon, holding hands and singing fucking kumbaya.”
He scoffs, eyes narrowing. “You think you’re the only one who lost him? You think it didn’t hurt me too?”
