“No, you left a young child to watch a younger child without an adult. You killed her.” I was done taking the blame. I was done being the one they despised and beat down. They were responsible. They were the ones investigated for negligence. The only reason I stayed in their home as a small child was because I had begged to, hoping I could heal them.
“I didn’t know that swimming in the creek might lead to something horrible. I was nine! How could I have stopped her? What did you expect me to do? Lock her in the house?” She could have unlocked the door and left, anyway. I had no authority over her; I barely had control over myself.
“You were supposed to watch her!” My mother’s howl sent a shiver down my spine.
I remembered the fear in my sister’s eyes as the water grabbed her, and her feet swept from under her. I ran alongside the stream for as far as I could, branches clawing at my hair, blackberry bushes scratching my arms and legs, stinging pain, and burning lungs. I raced as fast as my legs could carry me, trying to stay with her.
I dove in the water after her as she floated, caught in an eddy that turned her in a slow circle in a still pool of ice-cold water. So cold, the chill seeped into my bones and stayed there. My fingers shook as I tried to wake her, but she wouldn’t move. I stood there with her, waiting for her to wake up, but she didn’t.
And the neighbor that found us had asked where our parents were. She tried to pry me from Alisa, but my hands felt frozen into fists around my sister’s shirt. I couldn’t answer her questions, because I didn’t know.
There were bright lights and the hospital and asking the doctors if my sister had woken up. What haunts me is the look they gave one another. At the tender age of nine, I knew then that my sister hadn’t woken up, and she never would. She was gone.
Sometimes surviving is all you can do. That’s enough.
But was it enough?
“It was your job to keep her safe!” I wasn’t sure if my mother’s words were over the phone or in the hospital room all those years ago. They were the first thing she’d hissed at me when the doctors finally left the room.
They had hooked her up to all kinds of wires and beeping machines. I was confused, aching, scared, and more alone than I’d ever felt. Even at that age, I knew my sister wouldn’t be coming home ever again. I’d learned that because my great grandma had passed not long before and she’d never come back. My parents had explained that she was in a box under the ground, but that it was just her body. What made her the woman I loved was gone.
What made my sister who she was, was gone.
Something inside me was missing too. A piece of me was buried with her.
“You hear me? Don’t you turn this around on me!” My mother’s low, growling voice filled my ear, and I glanced around my bedroom, grounding myself in the moment as the memories faded—memories I’d never allowed myself to think about. Thoughts that held me prisoner to the woman and man who made my life hell.
They weren’t my parents. Parents helped their children; they loved them and worked through tragedies together. No, my parents died that day with my sister, and so did I.
“I’m done with this. Done with your lies and accusations. Take responsibility and … never call me again.” I pressed the end call button and stared at the screen until it went dark. Had I said all those things to her? Had I hung up on her? Had I stood up for myself?
Why don’t I feel better?
Somehow, I felt worse than before. Mom needed to blame someone and accusing me was the only thing that got her through all this time without my sister. I’d stolen that away from her. I placed the blame directly on her shoulders. What if she did something rash? How would I ever forgive myself?
What if she came looking for me? I destroyed her, why wouldn’t she seek to ruin me? The first person who would approach them was Benji. A shiver trickled down my spine at the thought of Benji having my life story. I thought about my secret being blown wide open, being out there for everyone to read. How could anyone trust me to serve and protect when I couldn’t do that for my family?
In my imagination, everyone looked at me with pity in their eyes. I would no longer be the strong woman I fought so hard to become. I’d be forced to run again.
My throat closed up, and tears stung my eyes. I didn’t want to run because I loved the people, loved the town, loved my life … all but the part where my parents were in it.
My heart thumped painfully in my chest as I pondered what to do next. Maybe I could call back, smooth things over. It was a thought, but I knew there was no way I could endure a moment more of her abuse.
This time of year wasn’t about me; it wasn’t about my mother. It was about Alisa, my sister, and her loss and our sorrow. We should have pulled together and become tighter than ever because of this tragedy.
Instead, they’d blamed me. Ruined my life as best they could.
Broken and exhausted, I flopped back on my bed and stared at the ceiling as emotions washed over me. All I thought about was Bayden.
I know you’re going through some stuff. I’m here if you need me.
I needed him, but I didn’t have the mental strength to explain what I was going through, so I curled on my side and let my memories take me away.
A chill swept through me as I stood there at the edge of the water. The first step was icy. Tingling hot like fire. The second step squeezed the breath from my lungs as I focused on her still form lazily spinning in circles.
Her snowy skin seemed too pale, and I wasn’t sure why she wasn’t moving. She could swim out now, so why wasn’t she? The cold enveloped my body, and goosebumps broke out up and down my arms.
One step at a time. I felt the current tug, but gently, playfully, almost. I reached for my sister, afraid to touch her. I grabbed her shirt, ready to pull her out of the water, but something held me there. I couldn’t move as I studied her, her brown eyes wide open and staring at the sky. Frozen, I stood stiffly, waiting for something. I didn’t know what that was, but I couldn’t move.
“Alisa?” I whispered.
The only noise was the slight tinkling sound of the water splashing over the rocks. Numbness crept through me, slowly overtaking me until I felt nothing. Not my body. Not my fear. Not my sense of self-preservation. I felt nothing.
Blackness washed over me, drowning everything else out.
Chapter Twenty
Bayden
I didn’t understand where things had gone wrong. We’d been doing so well, chatting a bit via texts, and then … radio silence. She sent me the all safe message, but my gut told me something wasn’t right, and she hadn’t responded since that brief conversation.
I’d love to see you again soon. Ugh, I sounded like a desperate teenage boy.
Pacing back and forth in my kitchen while my dinner burned on the stove, I stared at my phone and waited for her response, but none came.
I can bring pizza again and beer this time. My hopeful feeling was fading quickly. Worried about you. Please let me know you’re okay.
The acrid smell of smoke tickled my nose, and I set my phone on the counter to pull the pan off the burner. The pork seared to the pan, hopelessly stuck and smoking. I dropped the whole thing in the sink, promising myself I’d deal with it later.
With my stomach grumbling, I looked inside the fridge before pulling out something simple like salad fixings.
I put a bowl on the counter, then checked my phone. Nothing. Not a call, not a text, no response at all—zilch.
I washed my hands, then rinsed the romaine and tore it up. The visceral ripping of lettuce calmed me somewhat, but fear roiled up in my gut. What if something is wrong?
I wanted to drop everything, hop in my truck, drive to her place, and make sure she was all right, but she’d told me not to do that.
Adding some mushrooms to my salad, I diced the tomatoes and scraped them off the cutting board into the bowl. Pulling open the fridge door, I reached for the leftover chicken I’d grilled the day before and grabbed t
he ranch, all the while thinking about Miranda.
I thought about her text.
Thank you. You can’t know how much I appreciate that.
She appreciated that I was there for her. That meant that whatever was going on, whatever reason she’d gone suddenly quiet, it wasn’t me, right?
I shredded the chicken with my fingers and tossed the bits into the bowl on top of the lettuce. Something else must have happened. But what, and why not tell me? That was the part that drove me nuts. It’s not like I’d use whatever she was going through against her, and I’d never given her a reason to believe I’d do something so awful.
Maybe there is somebody else. I only entertained that thought for a second; she wasn’t like that. She would have made it clear if she were interested in someone else. Washing my oily fingers with warm soapy water, I wondered what could have caused her to stop messaging me so abruptly. Whatever it was, it had to have been significant.
Going back to my salad, I added salted sunflower seeds for crunch, dried cranberries for sweetness, and a light helping of ranch dressing.
When my salad was finally done, I grabbed my phone and went and sat on the couch, staring at the wall and shoving bites of lettuce into my mouth.
When she’d responded the way she did, I thought we turned a corner. I was sure things would be different. I scrolled back through the messages, searching for something that might have made her non-responsive, but everything seemed fine. I was supportive, kind, and not pushy. Overall, I was a good friend slash boyfriend or whatever I was.
Is everything okay? You disappeared.
I sent the text before I could change my mind and took another bite. Maybe I annoyed her and had come on too strong. I probably needed to back the hell off and leave her alone until she came to me. That would be the smart thing to do. Heck, that might even be the right thing to do. I didn’t know anymore. I couldn’t seem to get through to her, and that killed me. And every time her walls seemed ready to crumble, she fortified her emotional fortress.
The urge to call became overwhelming, and I dialed her number. Swallowing my food—despite not having chewed nearly enough—I choked down the bite, feeling the stinging scratch of sharp sunflower kernels tearing down my throat, lubricated by the ranch that made it burn all the more.
When she didn’t answer, I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there helplessly, trying to ignore the pain I’d stupidly caused myself.
I picked up my phone again and dialed, but this time—not knowing who else to turn to—I called Noah.
“Hey, Bay.” Noah’s calm voice and the sound of him gently telling Kandra he’d take the baby brought a smile to my face. “Everything okay?”
“Not really, no.” I didn’t know how to tell him everything that was going on. As much as I needed communication, I wasn’t the best at it myself. I was better at it than Miranda, but only somewhat.
“How can I help?” My brother’s easy tone calmed down the uncertainty raging within me.
“It’s about Miranda. I know she’s going through something serious, but she won’t let me in, I don’t know how I can help, and it’s freaking killing me.” The words poured out, and Noah let out a chuckle.
“I’m not laughing at you. I remember that feeling.”
Noah knew better than most what I was saying. After all, Kandra hadn’t told him she was pregnant for a long time. He knew what it was like to be with someone dealing with challenging life stuff but wasn’t forthcoming about it.
“Okay, well, I assume you’ve tried texting and calling.” Noah got right down to business as Kip made soft cooing sounds.
“I have, and there’s been no response. We were texting, and we talked, but then she dropped off the map and nothing since.” Again, that sense of unease rose in me.
“And this was when?”
“This afternoon.” I breathed a sigh of relief. My brother would have some ideas about what we should do. He always had advice to give.
“And you’re sure she’s not working, that she didn’t have something else to do?” Noah’s calm infiltrated my thoughts.
“She’s on a mini-vacation.” That also rubbed me wrong. She wasn’t the type to take time off. She loved her job, and it was everything to her. I mean, I get that some people have to get away from their jobs, but not Miranda.
“So, not at work then. Hmmm. Have you tried going out to her place?” Noah’s innocent question earned a shake of my head as I shifted on the couch next to my forgotten salad.
“No, she told me not to come without her permission.”
“Sheesh, what did you do to make her say that?” Noah asked, and Kip cried as if startled by the sudden noise.
“Serves you right.” I waited for him to calm the baby before responding. “She told me to respect when she needs space.”
“That makes sense. I mean, we both know that she’s an independent, self-possessed woman.” The pride in his voice matched the pride I felt.
“Yeah, she is, and I love that about her.” I hoped he wouldn’t notice my slip, and if he did, he wouldn’t say anything about it.
“Well, it sounds like the best thing you can do for her is to let her be. Sorry, brother, relationships are never easy.” Noah’s gentleness soothed some of my frustration.
“I can’t shake the feeling that she’s in trouble, or that she’s in a terrible place, you know?” I hated the fact that if something had happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. Maybe something had happened with her sleep issue.
“If you think she’s in danger, call the deputy.”
I shook my head, again, even though he couldn’t see me. “She’d never forgive me if I was overreacting.” Did the deputy even know about her sleeping problem? She was such a private person, and I couldn’t imagine anyone knowing anything about her they didn’t have to know.
“That’s a fair concern. One you need to balance against other options. Is it a hunch she’s not okay? Or do you know something that leads you to believe she’s not okay?” He was dancing around, not coming right out and asking me, and I appreciated that he gave me some space to talk without telling him anything.
“Like I said before, she’s been going through some stuff. She wouldn’t hurt herself, but she has some things that make me worry.” That was vague enough I felt comfortable saying the words.
“Do you think if you showed up, she’d lose her mind?”
I lifted my shoulders. “Well … she asked me not to show up unannounced, and I am worried I’d be crossing a line if I did after she was so clear.” There was no right answer.
“Do you think she’d be less angry if you told her you were worried about her because of the things you know about her?” Noah’s careful wording put me at ease.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure she’d be fond of me pointing it out or bringing it up, but maybe it would help her be a little less mad.” Would she forgive me if I deliberately went against what she said?
“Look, the one thing I’ve learned from everything Kandra and I went through is that you need to communicate. You need to talk about everything. You need to tell her your concerns and fears. I’m not telling you to go against her wishes, but I am saying you two need to talk.” As my brother spoke, Kip cooed as if he was part of the conversation and the little noises warmed my heart.
I struggled with what to do next. Did I show up at her place, full of concern about her well-being? I trusted my gut and always had. It never let me down before. As a sheriff, she’d understand that better than most people, right? Could she fault me for caring enough to want to make sure she was okay?
“I’m sorry there are no simple answers. I don’t envy you or this sticky situation you’re in, brother.” Noah made a slight noise, and I knew he was entertaining Kip.
“Thank you for everything,” I said.
I knew what I needed to do. I needed to check on her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Miranda
I woke up with my heart pounding in
my throat. I glanced around my living room, searching for whatever was responsible for dragging me out of my exhausted slumber. After the fight with my mother, I hadn’t had a second of peace.
My phone.
My gaze found it on the coffee table. Maybe that had woken me up. I thought I’d set it to silent, but my mind was so muddy and jumbled I couldn’t be sure of anything.
A knock at my front door sent my pulse racing, and I leaped up off the couch and stared at the front of my home. Had my parents found me already? How? I didn’t doubt my mom and dad would look for me, especially now, but I thought I’d have more time.
It wasn’t a pounding knock like I’d expect from my angry family, though.
Tiptoeing to the front door, I peeked out the peephole.
Bayden stood on the other side, ruffling his hair with one hand and looking side to side as if I was hiding in the bushes in the front yard to mess with him.
What is he doing here? Unlocking the deadbolts one by one, I opened the door. His gaze met mine, and the relief in his features filled me with warmth.
“Miranda.” He stepped toward me, and I threw myself into his arms. I could be upset, but I wasn’t. I needed his hugs and his warmth.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a soft, worried voice.
I shook my head, clinging tighter to him as all the pain and misery of the last couple of weeks—and my ability to hold it back—stretched to a breaking point. Tears streamed from my closed eyes as I inhaled his scent—fresh laundry and cedar.
He pulled back and looked me in the eyes as if he could mend my brokenness with his stare. Then he softly brushed my hair back from my face and sighed.
“You look like you haven’t been sleeping. How long has it been since you ate?”
His sweet concern nearly broke me.
“I’m not sure.” How long had it been since I last ate?
“Do you have anything here, or should I order something?” He held on to me, his hands strong as he gripped my hips.
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