by Kariss Lynch
He pulled her into a hug. “You had one, babe,” he murmured, thinking of Sarah Beth, Kaylan’s childhood best friend. Joy. That word always came to mind when he remembered her.
“I know.”
They walked in companionable silence and climbed in his Jeep. Nick allowed the silence to linger as he pulled onto the road behind his friends and headed back toward Coronado and the house he lived in with Micah. Gravel crunched beneath his tires, and a thin layer of trees lined the back road as they pulled away from the pop of other paintball games behind them.
“Speaking of sisters . . . ”
“No, Kaylan.”
He felt her eyes on his profile as he kept his gaze glued to the road. He added pressure to the gas pedal.
“Nick, we’ve got to talk about it. You’ve got to talk about it. It’s already been a couple of months since you learned of her existence. I know you’ve been busy with work and then Christmas and now my brothers visiting, but you need to meet her.”
He met her eyes. “I thought we were talking about Sarah Beth. When are we going to talk about her?”
“That’s not fair, Nick.”
He gripped the steering wheel, regretting the low blow. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“January tenth is a week away. I can’t believe it’s been a year since the Haiti earthquake. A year since she . . . you know. I’ll figure out something. It’s just hard. No one here knew her.”
“Your brothers are here, and they did. Let’s do something to remember her while they are in town.”
The wind grew louder in her silence, and he glanced over. She sat rigid, her jaw tight, her eyes moist. She swung her gaze to meet his, and the fierce look surprised him.
“I promise I will figure out a way to grieve and celebrate Sarah Beth, if you promise to plan a time to go meet your sister.”
“Kaylan . . . ”
“Promise.”
He gripped the steering wheel harder, the hot rubber uncomfortable beneath his sweaty palm. “I promise.”
“I want her at our wedding, Nick.”
His heart leapt at her quiet statement, the highway symphony almost drowning her out. He ground his teeth and punched the button to turn on the radio.
A cloud drifted over the sun and a cool breeze chilled his skin. He didn’t want to deal with this. He didn’t want to deal with any of it.
But he no longer had a choice.