“This place doesn’t feel like home anymore,” she mutters, eyes staring straight ahead. “No one’s left to make it home. To make it a place to come back to.”
“You do.”
She shakes her head. “I was never the anchor. Lena was. Same as our father. She knew how to grow roots, build a life and a home. I was never good at that. I was…more like our mother.”
I don’t have to ask what she means by that. Their mother left when Lena was a toddler. Only ever heard the story from Lena whowas too little to remember, but she knew enough to know her mother walked out one night and never came back.
Their father made excuses for her, tried to tell them it wasn’t all what it seemed, that she wanted to stay but couldn’t. Far as I know, neither of the girls ever believed him.
Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe they needed to believe their mother wanted out to keep from hoping she’d ever come back.
“You’re not your mom,” I say quietly.
“What would you know about it?” she snarls. Her eyes widen a second after, cheeks tinting red with embarrassment over her outburst. Not that she'd never admit it.
“I know that you’re here. That you show up without fail. And that those who love you know they can trust you and depend on you. And that you’ve never let them down. Not once. Not even when things seemed impossible…when anyone else would have.”
She shrugs listlessly. “I still left. And after our dad died and Lena was here alone, I stayed gone.”
I shake my head. “You were never gone. I would know, I’ve been annoyed to see you show up to every family function for years,” I tease, trying to snap her out of the downward spiral she’s caught in. “Besides, Lena wasn’t alone. She had Trent.”
Liz turns her head to look at me. “And you.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “I’m not sure she saw it that way. Pretty sure I just kept her busy trying to keep me in line. And she only bothered with that, so I wouldn’t come around and get Trent in trouble.”
“Now who’s skewing reality?” she says, her voice timid and unexpectedly warm with compassion. This is uncharted territory for us. Both of us on the same side, treating the other like a friend instead of the enemy.
A month ago, Liz would have jumped on the opportunity to pile on with proof I was a reckless, selfish jackass of a friend. Today…
“I know you loaned them the money they needed to make a down payment when they bought the ranch," she says, turning back to face the window. "And that you camped out on their couch for three months when Gavin was born because he was so colicky he would only settle if he was being rocked. You went right in and jumped into the rocking rotation so Lena and Trent could sleep. I also know it was you who walked out of work, drove straight here, and took Lena to the hospital when she went into early labor with Remmi because Trent was still on some interstate two states over, picking up a horse.” She sighs loudly when she’s done, like she’s exhausted from having to admit I have my decent points.
I’d tease her about it, but I just pulled into Trent and Lena’s driveway.
Sitting in front of their empty home, nothing seems funny anymore.
“Maybe this is why they chose us both,” Liz says under her breath. The words lack volume but are drenched in misery.
“Why?”
Slowly, she turns away from the house to face me. “We love each other’s flaws, Jovi. Love to point them out, love to act superior to each other. Love to insist the other is the bane of our existence.”
I can feel my brow climb higher as her list goes on. “Where the fuck are you going with this?”
“If anyone else said a kind word to me right now, I’d dismiss it, certain they were blowing smoke up my ass trying to boost me up in my moment of weakness.” She takes a deep breath and gradually lets it out, turning back to stare at the house. “But you…I believe.”
CHAPTER FOUR
LIZ
“Ican’t stay here.” I spin around, ready to march back out the way I came in, but Jovi is at my back and catches me before I can make a run for it.
“Where are you going?”
I wriggle out of his grip. “I have to get an Uber to the airport. I don’t want to miss my flight.” My flight leaves two days from now. Thanks to the unforeseen turn of events this afternoon, I was planning to change it anyway. No time like the present to get that sorted out. Maybe I can get on standby. Score a red-eye flight tonight. “Honestly, the sooner I get to the airport, the better. I have a million things to sort out so I can get back here.”
To this house.
Which I can’t bear to spend one night in. Let alone a year of my life. Possibly forever.
