Page 28 of Firefly Embers

I reached across the center console and gently squeezed his muscled forearm. “Thank you,” I sighed.

I warred within myself on whether I should lean over and kiss him, but without knowing where we stood, I didn’t want to cross that line and make things more awkward than they already were.

As soon as I closed the door to his truck, he was speeding away toward the ranch. I felt torn between the man that I had grown up loving and the girl I had grown up raising. But right now, my sister needed me, and Wade would have to understand.

We had been dancing around our feelings for the better part of fifteen years, so what was one more night of ignoring the inevitable?

Somehow, Izzy had managed to find the right key and fit it into the lock, letting herself inside. She hadn’t bothered closing the door behind her, probably knowing I wasn’t going to let her off without talking about whatever had happened at Jack’s.

I followed behind her, letting myself in and closing the door behind me with a soft click. I flipped the deadbolt, since it was evident that neither of us was going anywhere this evening.

I found my sister stomping around the kitchen, attempting to get her boots off but failing miserably as she ping-ponged from one set of cabinets to the other. With each thud against the wooden doors, I wondered how many hits they could take before they broke.

Heaving one last valiant tug and an animalistic grunt, she gave up attempting to get her boots off, sinking to the floor in defeat. I watched as all the fight and bravado she’d been hiding behind drained out of her in the form of two rivers of tears tracking down her cheeks.

I sank down across from her; me propped up against the island and her against the cabinets. The space between us felt like an uncrossable canyon.

Looking at the broken and defeated woman sitting opposite me, I was met with the image of the little girl I’d tried so hard to shield from the harsh realities of the world.

Without speaking, I grabbed one of her feet and tugged off her boots one by one, setting them upright beside me. I let her pull her legs back up toward her body and wrap her arms around them. The vibrant and fearless cowgirl I so admired was nowhere to be found.

“¿Quieres hablar de ello?” Do you want to talk about it? I asked softly, knowing that Izzy would understand, as she was one of the few siblings who could fluently converse with me in Spanish.

It often felt like a special bond between us, having grown up completely bilingual. It wasn’t something we shared with most of the other siblings and was exceptionally special after our mom died, as she had been the one pushing us all to learn.

“En realidad no.” Not really.

The war between giving her the space I knew she wanted and trying to fix whatever was eating her up was overwhelming.

I wanted to know who I could hunt down and bury for turning my sister into this shell of the girl sitting before me, but also, I knew she was old enough and scrappy enough to fight her own battles.

We sat in silence for a few beats before either of us found the voice to speak.

Barely perceptible, I heard my sister whisper, “It’s exhausting.”

“What is?” I asked, confused. I wasn’t sure if the alcohol was catching up and she was getting tired, or if she was making the moves to open up to me. I truly hoped it was the latter but expected the former.

“Living in your shadow.”

Her words hit me like a knife to the chest, and I fought for a response as my mouth gaped open and closed. It was as if my brain had malfunctioned, and I couldn’t formulate any semblance of a response.

Living in my shadow? How could she possibly think that? She was the one making it big in the rodeo. She was the one with a big-wig fiancé who was one test away from becoming a practicing attorney. If anyone was living in anyone’s shadow, it was me living in hers.

“Good talk,” she spat as she pushed to stand, taking my silence as an adequate response, wobbling even as she held onto the counter.

Having finally found my voice, I stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Now, wait a damn minute.” She turned to face me, and I could practically see the flames flickering at the edge of her vision, itching for a fight.

I had a feeling that the hate and anger she was feeling had more to do with a culmination of things, but if she needed to get something off her chest, now was as good a time as any. I had already prepared myself for a battle tonight. I’d just expected it to be with a broody, six-foot-two cowboy instead of my little sister.

She flung her arm from my grasp, turning to face me fully, standing to her full height. I hadn’t been blessed with the tall genes in our family, but Izzy sure had. She stood at a whopping five feet nine and towered over my five-foot-four frame. She did her best to look intimidating, but all I could see was my sister—scared, hurt, and in obvious mental anguish.

“No, you wait a damn minute. You don’t get to talk to me like you’re my mother. YOU ARE NOT HER.”

“I’m not trying to mother you, Izzy. I’m just concerned.”

“Oh, now you’re concerned? Daddy’s little golden child isn’t the center of fucking attention anymore, so you need to make this all about you.”

I reared back, her words striking as she spat them. “That’s not fair.”