Page 82 of Resist

“I’m so sorry.”

I shrug. “It was a long time ago.”

“It still sticks with you.”

“It does.” I take a sip of my drink.

“And your sister? She’s Lucy’s mom?”

My nod is slow and measured. “She was, yes.” He lifts a lone eyebrow at my use of past tense, and when he goes to speak, I stop him. “This conversation is way too depressing. I’m sorry. The topic can be changed anytime.”

He reaches out and places a hand over mine and squeezes. “How long has it been?”

“Almost seven months.”

“Damn it, Vaughn.” He slides his fingers between mine kind of in a backward handhold and stares at our hands before looking up to meet my eyes.

“Samantha committed suicide.” The slight tensing of his fingers tells me this isn’t what he was expecting.

“I’d ask why, but there’s never a good answer to that question.”

“She . . . she battled the demons she buried under alcohol and then drugs. Lucy’s father did the same. In fact, he pushed her to because he didn’t want to be the only one screwing up.”

“And Lucy?”

“Besides me, Lucy was the only thing in my sister’s life she ever truly loved. Regardless of everything else, that is the one thing I know for sure.” He gives me the minute I need to collect myself before I continue. “She was lost in so many ways, and I didn’t know how to reach her. I tried—God, I tried—but in the end, no one could save her. In the note she left, Sam made sure to let me know she knew I’d tried to help, and that she’d fought but was so damaged her hope was gone. She said that Lucy was the best thing that had ever happened to her and that her last wish was for me to take Lucy as my own. That she knew I loved her unconditionally and would be the one who could make sure she had every advantage on her side.”

“Christ.” He orders another round when the waitress stops by and then settles back in his seat and just stares at me for a beat. “And so the business is to help with Lucy’s medical bills? Is that the debt you’re trying to pay off?”

How did this happen? How did I decide somewhere in this evening’s time to let him in? Maybe because it feels way too good to be human—to be able to share things about myself that I never talk about with someone else—when it feels like I’ve been alone, numb, for way too long.

And so he asks, and I answer.

“The medical bills are from the treatments I tried to get for Sam. The rehab facilities. The counseling. The everything.” I thank the server when she slides fresh drinks in front of us and wait until she walks away before I continue. “Those are the bills I have to pay down in order to get a fair shot at getting custody of Luce.”

“Wait a minute. You don’t have custody of her?”

I shake my head. “Because Sam’s wishes were made in her suicide note, her state of mind was deemed questionable, and therefore the state isn’t recognizing it as her directive.”

“That’s such bullshit.” He part laughs, part swears.

“Tell me about it.”

“Where else would she go?”

“With her father.”

“The look on your face tells me that’s a bad thing.”

“Let’s just say sobriety isn’t exactly his strongest habit . . . but his family has money. Their support is inconsistent at best. Sometimes cutting off all funds in a tough love gesture, other times giving him money despite his need to stick a needle in his veins. Getting high has always won over everything else. And a stable job and shared DNA does a lot in the state of New York. A lot more than a sister and wishes in a suicide note.”

“So you’re paying for Sam’s medical bills, you’re paying for a lawyer to fight for Lucy—”

“It’s my sister’s last wish, and Lucy’s the only thing I have left of her—I’d fight till the end of the earth for her.”

“And that’s why you started the business.”

“Yes.”