by Aly Martinez
My throat nearly closed, and I struggled away from him, but he moved with me.
“Shhhh. Seven, six, five.” One of his hands was anchored on the back of my head, and the other smoothed up and down my spine. “Take a deep breath. Four, three—”
The Sesame Street theme interrupted him.
We both looked down at my phone vibrating on the floor as if it were some kind of ticking time bomb. But what he couldn’t possibly have known was that, for me, it was.
“Who is she?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure I could do that question justice. I could write a love song that would make grown men cry, but I’d never be able to find the words to explain who Robin Clark was to me.
When I’d told people that I was going to be famous one day, they’d all laughed. And then, a few years later, they’d nearly blown my phone up. Some called with genuine congratulations, but most greeted me with their hands held open. Whether they were asking for money to buy shit they refused to work for, a shout-out on my record to give them five minutes of fame, or me to put in good word with my recording company so a talentless, lazy asshole could get a deal, they all wanted something.
It didn’t matter that they hadn’t supported my relentless climb to the top or that they discouraged me at every turn. Seven degrees of separation was all that was required for them to feel entitled. People I barely knew scurried out from the woodwork.
With Levee at my back, I donned a steel spine and told almost all of them to fuck off. And lost not a wink of sleep over it.
But it was the “almost” percentage of that equation that kept me up at night for the majority of the following five years.
I adored my life, but if I could turn back time, I’d be willing to accept a dead-end job teaching guitar lessons at the local music store if it changed her path.
Staring down at the picture of her wide smile flashing on the screen of my phone, I replied into his neck, “She’s my sister.”
“Shit,” he breathed just as the ringing fell silent. Using my shoulders, he gently shifted me away so he could catch my gaze. “What’s going on?”
There was no point in trying to explain. He probably would have just laughed at me if he’d known how many times I’d gotten that exact call over the years. I could only imagine his face if I told him about the hundreds of thousands of dollars I’d spent supporting her, sending her to rehab, or, in cases like this, paying some dealer who no longer accepted her word as credit. The money didn’t matter. However, the hollowness in my chest that expanded each and every time she used me was embarrassing. After all of this time, it shouldn’t have hurt anymore, but a pain like that never went away. And, one day, when I inevitably lost her, it would devour me.
I decided to give him the abridged version. “She’s an addict and needs money. I refused to put it in her bank account, and she refused to tell me where she was.” I pointed to my phone and tried to crack a joke. “Tough love. Doctor Phil would be proud.” My voice was the only thing that actually cracked though.
“Come here.” He tugged until I was once again against his chest. “It’ll be okay.”
I barked a humorless laugh. “I don’t know anymore. This might just kill me.”
“It won’t kill you.”
My breath caught as I choked out, “But it might kill her.”
His hands froze on my back as he bit out a curse. But, besides that, the talking portion of my breakdown was over. For several minutes, Evan remained kneeling on the ground and silently holding me. He was the only thing keeping me together.
I was trying to collect myself when the phone started ringing again, and before I had the chance to stop him, Evan yanked it up.
“Where are you?” he greeted, standing up.
“Evan, no!” I jumped to my feet after him.
He extended an arm to stop me from advancing. “Don’t worry about who I am,” he told her. “Tell me how much money you need and where you are.” He walked to his bar and found a scrap of paper and a pen. His blue eyes lifted to mine before he turned away. “No. I understand. Don’t worry. He’s not coming.”
The hell I’m not.
I kept my objections to myself because he started writing something down. I could argue with him later as long as he got her fucking address.
“Right. Yeah.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m about twenty minutes out.” He hung up. Turning to face me, he shook his head—and read my mind. “You’re not going with me.” He stomped past me to the door, where he grabbed his keys off a metal hook.
“The hell you say! She’s my sister!”
“And she sounds high as a motherfucking kite, but she’s right. You show your face in the middle of that neighborhood, the only thing people are going to see is dollar signs.”
“For fuck’s sake, it’s San Francisco, not South America. I’m pretty sure we aren’t dealing with the Cartel here.”
“Which only makes them more dangerous. They’re desperate and stupid. And, if you want to talk about ‘for fuck’s sake,’ your fingernail clippings are sold for a cool grand on eBay. You’re a liability, Henry. Let me go pay this bastard and bring her back here. We need a good night of sleep so we can figure out how to deal with the rest of this in the morning.” He paused and pulled his wallet out. “How much cash you got on you?”
I blinked. Then I swallowed hard and blinked some more.
We.
“So we can figure out how to deal with the rest in the morning.”
We.
It was the single most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me.
He was counting twenties when I managed to squeeze the syllable past the lump in my throat.
“We?”
His head popped up, and his face softened when he met my gaze. Three steps and his long legs swallowed the distance between us. When he stopped in front of me, vulnerability flashed in his eyes.
“Depends. Do you want that to be a we?”
I nodded enthusiastically and fought the emotion back as I joked, “I totally meant to include rescuing Robin from drug lords when I told you all the things I wanted with you. It must have slipped my mind.”
He chuckled and looped an arm around my waist. With a tug, he pulled me against his chest and dropped his forehead to mine. “Then yeah, Henry. It’s a we.”
“Okay,” I breathed, unable to utter anything else.
He squatted an inch to bring our eyes level. “Now, you gonna give me any more shit about staying here while I go get her?”
I shook my head and smiled weakly. “Nope.”
His hand drifted down to my ass, where he dug my wallet out of my back pocket while gratuitously groping me.
Smirking, he lifted my wallet into view. “How much cash you got? I need to get out of here”—he paused to brush his lips across mine—“so I can hurry up and get back.”
I was terrified to fly.
But, right then, wrapped in his arms, Evan made me soar.
Minutes later, he left.
But, for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel alone.
“Cookie!” Robin cried as she rushed through Evan’s front door. Her long, black hair blew behind her as she sprinted into my arms. She was all of five foot one and maybe a hundred pounds, but her tiny body still managed to rock me back a step when she slammed into me.
Loud sobs ravaged her as she buried her face into me.
“I’m so sorry.”
My bones ached to tell her that everything was okay, but that was exactly why we were in this situation to begin with. Clearing my throat, I bent to kiss the top of her head.
“You fucked up, kid.”
“I know. God. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Gripping her shoulders, I pushed her away from me. “Yes. It will. And, every time I bail you out, it basically ensures that it will happen again.”
She adamantly shook her head as tears streamed from her dark-brown eyes. “No! I’m serious this time. I’m done.” Fighting my gr
ip off, she buried her face back into my chest and continued to cry.
Profuse apologies rolled from her mouth. Those I believed. The promises that she’d quit were a different story though. I’d heard those lies a million times. And, if history was any kind of indicator, I’d hear them all a million more.
I glanced up and found Evan standing in the doorway with his shoulder leaning against the jamb and a hand shoved in his pocket.
“Thank you,” I mouthed.
He nodded and offered me a smile.
“He’s”—she sniffled—“hot.” She didn’t even attempt to be quiet.
I chuckled and held Evan’s eyes as I replied, “He is.”
“He like men?” she asked.
“Uhh…” I bit my lip and popped my eyebrows at him in question.
He laughed and rolled his eyes as he became unstuck from the door. After sauntering over to me, he stepped to my side, brushed a kiss across my jaw, and then replied, “I like one.”
My heart seized. Those three magic words spoke to my soul.
Who needed love when you were the only exception?
I was still making dreamy eyes at Evan when his front door flew open. We all jumped. I squeezed Robin tight, and Evan quickly stepped in front of us.
“Where is she!” a deep, gravelly voice I barely recognized rumbled.
Robin went solid in my arms, but my body slacked.
“Jesus Christ, Carter. Can we maybe chill with the Incredible Hulk act?”
“She’s fine,” Evan announced, stepping aside to reveal her tucked against my chest.
Carter’s nostrils flared as scary muscles ticked on his neck and his jaw.
He strode across the room. “Let go of him,” he growled.
She shook her head and squeezed me tighter.
“Robin, I’m not asking again.”
She squeaked but didn’t reply.
I shot Carter a puzzled look he failed to notice through his palpable anger.
“Did you call him?” she accused into my chest.
“Well…yeah.” I bulged my eyes at Evan, who was watching the whole interaction equally as perplexed.
“Why?” she whined.
I had opened my mouth to answer, but Carter got there first.
“Okay, I’m done.” He bent down and scooped her off her feet. “Let’s go.”
“Carter! Put me down,” she protested.
“Hey! Where are you taking her?” Evan shot in front of him, clearly concerned that Carter was caveman-carrying a woman from his house.
Even in the chaos, I took a minute to note what a good guy he was.
“Home,” Carter grunted and then turned to look at me. “I’ll take her back to your house and keep an eye on her for the rest of the night.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
Evan’s mouth gaped open and he shot me a scowl. “Okay?”
“Uh…I mean. Is that cool with you, kid?”
She never once looked up as she grumbled, “It’s gonna have to be, apparently.”
“There. Decision made.” Carter nodded at me and then at Evan before storming out the front door with Robin in his arms.
Evan closed the door behind them and then raked a hand through his hair. “What the fucking hell was that about?”
“No clue.”
“And, just to be clear, you’re not concerned at all that maybe letting her go with him was a bad idea? He was pissed and she didn’t seem all that excited about going.”
I waved him off. “Nah. She’ll be fine. Carter and Robin are tight and fight like siblings. He’s good to her. He’s just pissed she’s using again. Trust me. She’s safer with him than any other person in the world.”
He twisted his lips skeptically and glanced back at the door. “If you say so.”
I smiled at his concern. “She’s fine.”
He strolled over and cupped my jaw. “And what about you?”
“I’m better now.” I brushed my lips over his.
“Good. You want to tell me who she really is now?”
Leaning away, I cocked an eyebrow. “She’s my sister.”
“Really? Because she told me you were her dad.”
A LOUD GROAN rumbled in his throat. “She has got to quit telling people that shit.”
On our little trip back, I’d learned that Robin was twenty-one—only ten years younger than Henry. There was no possible way he was her father. But, after having witnessed Henry’s breakdown over her, I was incredibly interested to hear more about the dynamic between the two of them.
“So, then why don’t you tell me who she really is?”
“I already told you. She’s my sister,” he said defensively.
Gripping the back of his neck¸ I tipped my forehead to his. “We’re a ‘we’ now, remember?”
His eyes flared and his lips parted. “We.”
I nodded. “I’m just trying to understand what happened tonight. I hated seeing you like that, and I’m going to need all the facts if I’m going to prevent it from happening again.”
With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around my hips and pushed his hands into my back pockets. “She was my foster sister.”
I pressed my lips to his and then pulled him over to the couch with me. He settled into the corner, and I sat beside him with my leg curled up on the couch so I could face him. He was notably uncomfortable with the conversation, and I needed him to understand that he had my undivided attention—and support.
Taking his hands, I encouraged him. “Keep going.”
He glanced down at our linked hands and trailed his thumb over my knuckle, smiling like I’d just offered him the world. “She was five when she was placed in my foster home. I was fifteen and had a job washing dishes at a dive restaurant. The owner’s daughter had a bakery across town, so he sold her stuff as dessert. I can’t even tell you how addicted I was to those damn peanut butter cookies. You’d never catch me leaving work without one.”
He puffed his cheeks, insinuating he’d been fat. My only response was a teasing side-eye. He shook his head and continued.
“I got home one night and found her crying in the bathroom because she’d wet her bed. Poor kid was scared to death. I helped her clean herself up and fix up her bed. She was so damn cute it didn’t take but one sentence for her to wrap me around her finger. But it was what she asked that changed my life.” He paused and sucked in a shaky breath. “She asked me if I’d stay with her until she fell asleep. It was the first time anyone had ever needed me.” He swallowed hard. “I wasn’t a burden to her. I wasn’t a gay kid who needed to be fixed. I wasn’t a poor, pitiful foster kid no one gave a damn about. When those big, brown eyes looked up at me, I wasn’t Henry Gilchrist. I felt like Superman. That little girl saved my life, because she made me feel worthy.”
“Jesus,” I breathed, leaning forward to kiss his temple. I officially hated this story, but I adored that he was telling it to me. That made me feel worthy.
“Every night for the next three years, we shared a peanut butter cookie before she went to bed.”
“That’s why she calls you cookie,” I filled in as it dawned on me.
“Yeah. I was her Cookie Monster.” He laughed at the memory. “I had a whole lot of nothing back then, but she was always there, waiting for me with a huge, goofy grin. She used to beg me to play my guitar for her—even when I sucked at it. It took me a week, but I learned the theme to Sesame Street for her. God, I loved that little girl.” Pain was etched into his face, but he swayed toward me as though I could take it all away.
I couldn’t. But I sure as hell was going to try.
“When I graduated high school, I was forced to leave her behind. She had a really hard time with the transition, but in some ways, I think I struggled more. As much as I wanted to be out on my own, forging my own path, I wasn’t ready for the loneliness I felt. Robin and my guitar were the only two things I wanted to take into my new life with me.
“I went out on a limb and asked permission
from my social worker to keep in contact with her. Thankfully, it all worked out and we got to talk on the phone a few times each week. While it wasn’t the same as seeing her every day, it definitely helped us both. I visited her for birthdays and such, but it became harder and harder over the years when she started being moved around foster homes. In the name of full disclosure, I feel the need to tell you Robin was always a good kid. But the girl hit puberty and I swear she became a different person.”
I chuckled. “Teenage girl. I can imagine.”
“It was bad, and I knew she wasn’t getting the emotional support she needed to feel worthy too. The day she turned sixteen, she called me crying. She’d gotten into it with her new foster father and he put his hands on her. I lost my fucking mind. I’d already made it big in music and had been trying to figure out how to get her out of there, but that one call sped up the process. The very next day, three attorneys were at Social Services, filing adoption paperwork on my behalf.”
My head snapped back in surprise. “You adopted her?”
“Well, I tried. I canceled a month of tours and threw every resource I had into getting her placed into my custody. But the state of California wasn’t keen on giving a sixteen-year-old girl to a single twenty-six year-old guy. Besides, it would have taken forever to jump through all the hoops required to adopt, and I wanted her out of foster care immediately. That’s when my attorney’s came up with another idea. A few days later, I transferred a large sum of money into a trust fund in her name and we petitioned the courts for her emancipation. With the money to support herself long term, it was an easy win.”
He paused and the light in his eyes dimmed. “It was the greatest day of my life when I moved her into my house. Now, five years later, I wish she’d stayed in foster care. I had no idea what the hell I was getting into with her. That money I gave her may as well have killed her. She was young and suddenly loaded. I made her get her high school diploma, but she didn’t have to work. I travel all the time, and though I hired people to be there with her, she was still alone a lot. With a virtually bottomless bank account, she turned to drugs to keep herself entertained. And, for the rest of my life, I have to live with the fact that I’m responsible for that.”