Everett is glaring at me, and I don’t know why, but I fucking hate being on the other side of that look of his.
I spend ten minutes chatting with Monica about the tattoo shop and how business is going. She politely asks about my parents, and I pretend like I care. We’re both full of shit.
The front door opens and closes, two distinct laughs echoing through the house. One booming and loud, one melodic and soft. I assume it’s Carlos and Dahlia, who must’ve pulled up at the same time. Monica and Lou both stand and scurry into the kitchen to greet them, while Everett takes his mother’s spot next to me.
“She’s not coming because of me, right?” I ask through clenched teeth. I know it’s what he and Leo were discussing before I arrived, but I need the confirmation.
Everett settles into the cushions, crossing his arms as he assesses me. “You tell me.”
I sigh, shrugging.
“I can’t fix it if neither of you will tell me what happened.”
“Not asking you to fix it,” I say.
He’s quiet for a moment, staring at the television—but I know he’s not seeing the football game on the screen. Finally, he turns to me. Brown eyes that match his sister’s are soft and sad. “I need to fix her.”
I nod. “I don’t know how to help you with that, though.”
“I keep trying to show her that I see her. I see her broken, and I want to put her back together, and she only gets defensive about it. I don’t know how to get through to her.”
“She gets defensive because she masks her pain,” I tell him, all too familiar with the workings of her brain. “When someone can see through that mask, she feels like she’s failed. She gets defensive.”
“Why does she mask?” Everett asks, his eyes desperate as he looks at me.
“To protect the rest of you, and probably to protect herself, too.”
“Protect us from what?”
“Her darkness.” I sigh. “You have to make her think she’s not failing at hiding her hurt, because she’ll feel like she’s failing all of you. She’ll get defensive, and she’ll push you away.”
He runs a tired hand down his face. “See? You’re the only person who can get through?—”
“No, I’m not,” I interrupt. “I don’t know her anymore. And there is a good chance all that advice I just gave you won’t apply here.” I look down at my hands, interlacing my fingers and flexing them. “But based on the person I used to know, that’s what I can tell you.”
Everett looks hurt by that. I know it’s confusing to him that I can’t explain why I don’t know her anymore, but if I’ve learned anything over the last four years, it’s that I’ve got to protect myself first. I let her destroy me for far too long.
“So”—I clear my throat, attempting to change the subject— “what’s the big news?”
Everett lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I have a feeling about it.” He smiles softly. “But I think it’s best we let them be the ones to spill.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” I murmur, the thought escaping my lips before my mind has time to put reins on it. “It sounds like a family thing, and she should be here.”
“You’re our family too,” Leo’s voice carries from across the room, startling both Everett and me. He’s leaning against the door frame that leads to the kitchen, arms crossed at this chest and his blue eyes narrowed. “You should be here.”
I throw him a shallow nod, unable to help the fact that I feel out of place. I always feel out of place with them—because whether it’s valid, whether or not they understand it, I am the person who destroyed their sister beyond repair. She may have broken me, too, but the blame she places on my shoulders is still mine to carry. I can’t look my two childhood best friends in theeyes, knowing that if they understood the entirety of our story, they’d never speak to me again.
Leo smiles, and I can tell it’s genuine. I can see the flash of disappointment in his eyes that his sister didn’t come tonight, but the smile on his face tells me that he’ll allow nothing to take away the excitement of whatever it is he’s gathered us to share tonight.
Clapping his hands together, he calls the two of us into the dining room where the rest of the family is already dishing up their plates. We don’t talk about the empty seats at the table, or the missing souls in the room.
I feel empty, and I wonder if my soul is missing too.
5
VICE
“THIS IS ME TRYING” - TAYLOR SWIFT
