Eyeing her, I went to the cabinets beside her, watching as she scraped cut-up berries from a small cutting board into the bowls and then shook some walnuts out too. Filling up my glass with water, I tried my best to ignore how much my stomach ached. I didn’t want to go.
“You have time to eat, don’t you?” my beloved little sister grumbled, sounding grumpier than I had ever heard her.
“Yes,” I answered before gulping down the entire glass of water just as she slid one of the bowls across the counter.
She grunted before turning back toward the stove and picking up the saucepan she’d cooked with. “Eat it. Who knows when you’ll have lunch.”
I didn’t feel like smiling, I really didn’t, but affection for this not-so-little girl made my chest ache... with love, of course. With so much love it reminded me of why I was going today. So she wouldn’t have to. “Thank you, Lily,” I told her as I opened one of the drawers and pulled a spoon out.
Lily grunted again as she turned on the tap at the sink and waited, then put the pot under the stream of water.
I didn’t say a word as I scooped up one spoonful after the other of steel cut oats as she finished washing everything. I ate so fast that by the time she was done, more than half of it was in my stomach, and I honestly wasn’t sure if I had tasted more than the first bite.
I didn’t want to go.
“What time will you be back?”
I blinked at her back as she stood in front of the sink, hunched over it. “I don’t know for sure. I’m guessing maybe around three.” I tapped the tip of the spoon against my nose, seeing her spine curl further into the sink area. “I’m not going to be there longer than I need to, sugar lumps, I promise.”
The deep breath she took made her shoulders go up a few inches; I could even see her ribcage expand too. But she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t turn around either.
I wanted to go and give her a hug, but my feet wouldn’t move. I wanted to tell her it was going to be fine. That I didn’t want to go in the first place but that I owed Grandma Genie for taking care of her for years.
But…
I wasn’t sure I could handle it if she pulled away from me or told me not to touch her. It wouldn’t be the first time one of my sisters had done that. So like a coward, I stayed there, fisting my hands at my sides and just watching my little sister struggle with whatever she was thinking. She was the last person in the world I would want to hurt or have mad at me.
“Lily, I love you. I don’t want to go, but one of us has to, and if Dad and your mom are there… I don’t want them to see you. I don’t want them to see any of you. Nothing good would come of it, and somewhere deep down inside, you know that,” I told her quietly. “It’ll be fine. I promise. Your mom will probably be too high and Dad…. Don’t worry about me, okay? I showed you that picture of Ripley. No one’s going to want to mess with him, and I can take care of myself.”
She sniffed.
And still I just stood there, really wanting to go to her but just… not able to. My eyes caught onto the clock on the stove, seeing the 7:25 and sighing. “I’m not going to work afterward. If you don’t have plans, we can go do something.”
My little sister sighed right back. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I asked her to be sure.
She nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Pressing my lips together, I scooped the rest of the oatmeal into my mouth as I grabbed a bottled iced coffee from the fridge. Next, I filled up a water bottle from the filter and had just picked up my purse when Lily muttered, “Do you have your pepper spray?”
I froze. Then I glanced inside my bag to make sure it was in there. “I’ve got it,” I told her, looking down at the gift she had bought me for my birthday last year.
I turned toward her, holding my things in my hand, and found her still facing the sink. I wanted to give her a hug. I really wanted to give her a hug, or get one in return, but I was going to need all my bravery for later.
“I need to go, but have a good day at school, okay? Thank you for breakfast.”
“Good luck.”
I smiled at the back of her head and held my things to my chest, then turned around. I had barely made it down the hall when my little sister called out, “I love you, Luna! I’m not mad at you! I just want you to be okay!”
I bit my lip and shook my head, relief flooding through me. “I know. I love you too! Don’t worry about me and have a good day at school!” I called back, making sure not to let my voice betray me.
I got my keys and headed outside, trying my best to ignore the way my heart beat steadily but a little faster than normal. I had barely locked the front door and sat on the top step when a familiar yellow pickup pulled up in front of my house. According to my G-Shock, right on time.
I didn’t wonder how Ripley had known my address, but I had figured he would have asked for it if he needed it. A few of my coworkers had visited since I’d bought my place, and the Coopers of course knew where I lived. At just around fifteen hundred square feet—and with the price tag that had come from it being a foreclosure—it was perfect for me… and the one sibling I still had. It had needed a stupid amount of cosmetic work when I bought it, and even after so long, it still did. What had been worked on, I had done mostly by myself and with a little help from my sisters, friends, and their families. It was getting to where I wanted it.
At the rate I was going, it was more than likely going to be a couple more years before it was the house that I’d envisioned, and only for a second did I wonder what Ripley thought of the old bungalow.
Then I decided that he probably didn’t care and might have not even really looked at it in the first place, even if it was possible to ignore the dark purple house with medium gray and white accents and trim.
It had taken me months to change the color from the faded white and blue it had originally been, but every time I pulled into my driveway, seeing it… it just made me happy. And if something made you happy, it was worth the cost and effort every single time.
As I walked down the steps of my stoop and then the pathway that my best friend’s grandpa had helped me redo before starting on the painting, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder at my house.
And I smiled.
I was so lucky.
I was so damn lucky I forgot how lucky I was.
Rip was looking at me through the passenger window as I walked up to his truck door and opened it.
“Morning,” I greeted him as I got inside and shut it behind me.
He was still watching me as I pulled the seat belt across my body and clipped it in, noticing the black jacket on the seat between us. Only then did he say, “Morning.”
Setting my purse and drinks on the floor, I slid my hands down my thighs to smooth my black skirt down and then shot him a smile. I had to play it easy and cool and not at all like I’d woken up that morning on the verge of praying for a natural disaster that wouldn’t let us make it to San Antonio. “Want me to navigate us or do you know how to get there?” I asked as I finally got a chance to look my boss over.
And look him over I did.
The first thing I noticed was the thin black and white scarf he had on.
In June.
Then the second thing I noticed was the freaking rest of him.
I had warned him we were going to a funeral, but I hadn’t been ready for… this. Ripley dressed up like I had never, ever seen him before. In a charcoal gray button-up shirt beneath the scarf wrapped around his neck, his eyes seemed even brighter than usual. I glanced at his shiny black dress shoes—shoes that looked brand new. Black dress pants that looked brand new. I looked down at the black jacket between us and thought it looked like it had never been worn either.
Forcing my gaze back to his face, I took in his close shave, and the way his short hair was styled gave me the idea that he’d slicked something through it that made it look more controlled than normal.
Lucas Ripley had dressed up.
&
nbsp; And if they were there, I was taking him to see the most awful people I had ever met in my life.
Probably.
More than likely.
Who was I kidding. This was me. It would be my luck ten times over that all of them would be there. Even my older brother. Why not.
I didn’t have the same hair color or length anymore, but they would know who I was.
I could do this. I would do it. It was only a couple of hours.
I needed to get it together before he figured out just how much I didn’t want this to happen. So I said the first words that came to mind as I sat there. “You look dapper.” Which was an understatement, but I didn’t need to cake it on.
How did he respond? By reaching up to pull at the collar of his shirt, digging beneath the scarf he had on, tugging at it and muttering, “I feel like a dumbass.”
I surprised myself when I laughed. “You don’t look like one.” My smile wasn’t forced or fake either. “You look great,” I told him.
What did he do? He rolled his eyes, but I didn’t miss the way his cheeks seemed to get a little pink. I didn’t know somebody was bashful.
“So, GQ? Need me to navigate us or do you know how to get into the city?”
He rolled his eyes again as he put the truck into drive. “I know how to get there.” And if I thought he muttered, “Unfortunately,” then I would have been right.
* * *
Neither one of us talked much over the next three hours.
Rip had put the radio on the oldies station, which had made me smile while I looked out the window because that was the last thing I would have figured he’d listen to. I’d caught him humming along to a few songs, and that had made me smile even more. He wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. I played solitaire on my phone until I got nauseous, then played it again once the worst of it had passed.
But as the minutes went by, and then an hour, then another hour and another hour…
My nausea got worse for reasons that had nothing to do with looking at a tiny screen in a moving car; all the breathing exercises in the world didn’t do anything. Neither did closing my eyes and telling myself that I needed to buck up and that I could handle whatever happened. All the optimism I’d felt that morning had slowly melted away as the reality of where I was going became more and more present.
The truck wasn’t going to break down and end up making me miss the funeral.
I was going and it was happening.
But I was going to survive it, and that was the most important part.
We drove further along into the city and slowly I took in a lot of things that were familiar from when I had lived in San Antonio. The city had changed a lot over the last almost ten years but not enough to be completely different from where I had grown up.
I hadn’t planned on ever coming back.
I turned on the navigation app on my phone and put in the address that the lawyer had sent me. The app said we had twelve minutes left to travel. The service was supposed to start in twenty, so the arrival couldn’t have been any better.
I laced my fingers together and stuck them in between my thighs. I kind of wished I had paid more attention to Mr. Cooper when he recited an Our Father when he was riled up and needed to calm down.
“You gonna be all right?” Rip finally spoke up after hours of near silence.
I glanced at his profile for what might have been the twentieth time—maybe the fiftieth time—since we’d gotten into the car. The tightness at his jaw had only gotten more pronounced mile after mile. The lines at his eyes had deepened. His coloring was different. More flushed.
I wasn’t imagining the fact that he honestly looked like he was dreading this as much as I was.
But was it because he was with me and he didn’t want to be?
“Yeah, sure,” I told him honestly but watched him even closer. “Are you?”
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel and his voice was rough when he answered simply, “Yeah.”
He was full of it. He really was dreading this.
Just like that, guilt made my stomach feel off all over again, for a reason that had nothing to do with me and what I wanted.
Maybe he didn’t handle funerals well. Maybe they made him feel terrible. How was I supposed to know? I’d worked surrounded by men for almost the last decade, and over that time, I’d learned that even if they didn’t want to do something—and I mean they really didn’t want to do something—they would if it involved or compromised their pride.
I wouldn’t force someone to do something they didn’t want to for my sake.
“You can just drop me off and go back. I can get myself back to Houston,” I offered, watching the lines along his mouth tell me just how uncomfortable he was.
Because I had put him into this situation.
The man beside me slid me a look so slow that a sloth would have managed to catch it. His eyebrows went up at about the same pace, and he locked those blazing blue-green eyes on my face and said in that hoarse voice of his, “Not doing that.”
Pride was a bitch.
“I’m being serious, Rip.” I gave him a smile that was tight and probably totally fake. “I can go by myself. It isn’t a big deal. You’ve done enough.”
I’d swear he rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Luna.”
He was such a liar. “You look like you’ve got the flu, boss.”
“I’m all right,” he tried to insist.
I pressed my lips together and looked at the coloring on his face. “Is that why you’ve been squeezing the steering wheel so hard your knuckles have been turning white for the last hour?” I asked him, pressing my lips together again immediately afterward because… well, it was the truth.
That hard jaw jerked from side to side, and he even shook his head a little. “Luna, I’m good,” he tried to tell me.
“I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.”
He didn’t say a word for a moment, but I watched as his shoulders lost some of their tension and lowered unexpectedly. His voice was calm as he said, “I got no problem going to the funeral or the service. You can drop it.”
I bit my lip and watched him, trying to decide whether I needed to keep arguing with him. It was obvious he didn’t want to be here. I wasn’t that blind or dumb. I also believed him when he said it wasn’t the funeral he had an issue with.
But then what else could bother Rip… that wasn’t Mr. Cooper or Lydia? Or screwups at work?
Just as I opened my mouth to tell him to wait in the car, his fingers flexed on the steering wheel again, and he told me, “I’m doing this with you. I owe you. It’s fine.”
He owed me.
That was the only reason he was here. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that, and it wasn’t like that should hurt my feelings. Because it didn’t. What it did was make my heart clench up a little at the reminder that it was only a favor… a favor I had earned through a lie… for why he was with me right then, sitting not even two feet away in a dress shirt, pants, and a scarf with a coat between us. Looking more handsome than I ever could have imagined, if I did that kind of thing.
I kept my mouth shut and nodded, even if chances were he didn’t see me do it.
The navigation gave an instruction for an upcoming turn a quarter of a mile away, and he got into the lane a second before asking, “Who’s funeral are we going to?”
I squeezed my fingers together tighter. I owed him that much information, didn’t I? “My grandmother.”
His “Oh” was just about what I was expecting. What I didn’t expect was the way his question came out. Maybe it was the fact that he even asked the question in the first place. The last time I’d been sick, he hadn’t asked if I was feeling better, he’d asked you contagious still? So the “You good?” right then, caught me totally off guard, especially when it came out soft.
But I still lied. “I’m good.”
I didn’t miss the way his eyes slid in my direction, his expression mirroring t
he tone of his voice—thoughtful, different. “You don’t look good.”
He didn’t need to know that I didn’t feel good about this whole thing. So, I made a face. Then I shrugged the shoulder closest to him. “I’m just…”
Should I tell him?
Nah. I was greedy and enough of a liar to keep the bad to myself since we were so close already. Plus, he was being a liar about being fine coming with me, when it was clear he wasn’t.
“I haven’t been home… to San Antonio,” I corrected myself, hating that I called this city home, “in a long time.”
His hands flexed on the steering wheel once more, and I wasn’t sure I imagined that his voice seemed to get deeper, losing that almost sweet edge to it. “You used to live here?”
“Yeah,” I told him vaguely. “I grew up here.”
Those teal-colored eyes came my way again, and a muscle in his cheek tensed. “When’d you move away?” he grumbled the question. These were more personal questions than he’d asked me in the three years we had known each other.
I squeezed my fingers together. “A few months before my eighteenth birthday. So that’s nine years.”
He made another thoughtful face that had his eyebrows knitting together and that little dash between his eyebrows indenting, probably wondering why I would have moved away at that age. So when he asked, “You got family here?” I figured he was trying to figure out just that.
While I might have told him everything a week ago… I didn’t want to do it then.
I looked forward and stopped myself from frowning. “My grandmother’s the only person I would still call family here, and I haven’t seen her in years. I just found out about the funeral on Monday right before I asked you to come with me.”
His eyebrows did that thoughtful thing again, and some more guilt filled my stomach.
Should I tell him? At least warn him? If I was in his position….
I should tell him. I had never been good at playing games. I had never liked other people playing games with me either. It was the right thing to do.
“Rip?“
“Hmm?”
I could do it.
Luna and the Lie Page 12