by Lexi Ryan
Chapter Thirty-One
Brinley
June 4th, before
My parents said I didn’t have to go to school today, but I didn’t see the point in staying home. I don’t want to sit around and think about Brittany. I didn’t want to watch my mom hide her tears or the whole staff walk on eggshells around my father, who’s been more prone to outbursts than usual.
I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be anywhere else, either. Except maybe home with my sister, hiding in a blanket fort in her room and saying goodbye one last time. That’s where I want to be.
“I’ve been calling you,” Marston says beside me.
I blink up at him. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his skin’s pale, like he might be sick.
And all I can think about when I look at him is that I wasn’t there for her. I turned off my phone and I missed my chance to say goodbye. I disobeyed my parents and wasn’t there for my sister the night she decided she’d finally had enough and stole those pills.
Marston looks me over, and his gaze snags on the bruise on my wrist. His nostrils flare. “That asshole put his hands on you again.”
I pull the books for my first two classes out of my locker. “It’s not his fault.”
“Brinley, there are fingerprint bruises on your wrist. Don’t lie to me.”
I slam my locker door shut and turn to Marston. “It’s not his fault,” I whisper. “It’s my fault because I snuck out. It’s my fault because I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, and I made him worry.” It’s my fault because I wasn’t there to stop her and she died.
He shakes his head. “None of that gives him the right to—”
I push past him. “I’m gonna be late for class.”
I don’t hear a word my teachers say all day, but none of them call me on it. I can’t look at them, because the pity in their eyes is a reminder I don’t want. I barely register the whispers all around me. At lunch, I’m vaguely aware of Stella yelling at some people to stop staring, but I can’t blame them.
I’m the girl with the dead sister. I’m the girl who didn’t even answer her phone when her only real family was calling to say goodbye.
Marston
I don’t have money for a suit, but Aunt Lori pulled Uncle Henry’s old one from storage for me. It’s too tight across my shoulders and the pants are a couple of inches too short, but it’s the best I can do.
Lori texted me to tell me Brinley didn’t come to the funeral home with her parents and would arrive at the start of the visitation, so I wait outside until her car pulls in.
I rush to the driver’s-side door to help her out. Only as I reach for the handle do I realize Brinley’s not driving. Roman is.
I stumble back as he swings the door open and climbs out of the car. He looks me over, a sneer curling his lip. “What are you doing here, Death Rowe?”
“Don’t start with me today, Humphries,” I growl.
The passenger door opens, and Brinley climbs out of the car. I scramble around to help her. She’s in a long-sleeve black dress and simple black heels. Her makeup is heavier than usual but still doesn’t hide her puffy eyes.
I offer her my hand, and she shakes her head. I wish she’d just kicked me in the nuts.
I want to ask what I did, to know why she won’t look me in the eye. I want to ask why the fuck she had Roman bring her, but I shove the question deep down. My jealous insecurity is the last thing she needs to deal with right now.
“What can I do?” I ask in a whisper.
For the first time in five days, she meets my eyes. “You can stay away.”
I swallow. She’s right. If I go in there, her father will make a scene, and the entire day will become about how much he hates me when it’s supposed to be about Brittany and her life. Brin’s right, but it still burns.
A crowd is gathering in the parking lot as kids from school arrive.
I take a deep breath and try to ignore this panicky feeling in my gut. This feeling I’ve had since her father found us and told us the news. Brittany’s the one who ended her life, but Brinley’s the one who’s being punished for it. “Okay. I’ll call you tonight.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t. Please.” Then she turns away and walks toward the funeral home.
“Burn!” Roman laughs. “Dude. Get a clue. She had her fun and now she’s done.”
I lunge forward, and Smithy appears out of nowhere and grabs my arm. “Don’t do something you’ll regret,” he whispers.
I yank from his grasp and go for Roman again, but someone else already has me wrapped up, arms crossed over my chest to hold me back.
“He’s not worth it,” Kace says.
Roman smirks at me, but my eyes are on Brinley as she steps inside the funeral home to say goodbye to her sister.
The night of the funeral, I go to the south dock at the lake. I know Brinley, and after a day like today, she’ll want to be out in our spot to find some peace.
I wait for hours. She finally shows up just after dark.
“We need to talk,” she says when she spots me.
“Brinley.” I swallow hard and step toward her.
She shakes her head and shuffles back. It’s dark out, but even in the little light from the distant streetlamps, I can see she’s been crying. The sight tears me apart inside and makes me reach for her. “Don’t touch me.”
I flinch. “I would never—”
“It doesn’t matter, though, does it?” she asks, her voice small. “If you did it or someone else. It doesn’t matter if I love you. Our relationship hurts my parents.”
“Who cares what hurts your father? He—”
“Don’t. Please don’t. They’re my parents. They’re not perfect, but are you going to stand there and tell me yours are?”
The blood drains from my face. I can handle a lot of angry words, but I never expected such a low blow from Brinley.
“My sister is dead because I wasn’t around to save her. She’s dead because I was with you, and there’s nothing I can do to bring her back. My parents lost a child, and I won’t be responsible for causing them more pain.” She presses her palm to her chest. “Because it hurts me to see them hurting like this.”
She’s cutting me in two. Right down the middle. I can’t breathe.
“Okay.” I lift my hands. “Okay. Tell me what you want to do. Tell me how to fix this.”
She hangs her head. “You should leave.”
I nod. “I can do that. I’ll go. Just call me when you’re ready to talk and—”
“No. Leave Orchid Valley. Go to college and don’t come back.”
I feel like she just punched me in the chest. “What?”
“For me,” she whispers. “I won’t be strong enough if you’re still here. Do it for me.”
“Don’t you get it? This isn’t what love looks like. You’re here, Brinley. You didn’t die. You didn’t even do anything bad. You just fell in love with a guy they don’t like.”
“I fell in love with the last guy they’d want to see me with. I fell in love with the guy I can never have anything real with.”
I shake my head. This can’t be happening. “I’ll give you space, and we’ll talk about this later.”
“No.” Her chest shakes with her sob. “Every time I look at you, I see my sister in that casket. I should’ve been there, and I was so lost in you that I failed her.”
I take a step back, but the blow still lands. “I know you’re hurting, but don’t push me away for good. I love you.”
She nods, tears rolling down her cheeks. “If you really love me, you won’t make me hurt like this. You need to go, and you need to stay gone.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Brinley
Present day
“More ice cream?” Savvy asks. She hoists the carton in the air from the spot next to me on Kace’s couch, where I’ve spent most of my day, and where she joined me after she finished with her classes and clients at the spa.
; I lick my spoon and shake my head. I have a stomachache from too much sugar, a headache from too much crying, and a heartache from too much damn pride. More ice cream can’t fix that.
“You could call him,” she says gently.
I pull my knees more tightly to my chest and shake my head. “He’s right,” I say in a whisper. “I want to believe I’m so independent now, but I’ve never been able to do it on my own.”
Savvy carefully sets down the carton of ice cream and straightens in a way that tells me a Savvy lecture is incoming. She folds her arms and huffs out a breath.
“Say it,” I mutter.
“Do you think I’m a failure as an adult? A loser who doesn’t have her shit together?”
I pull back like she’s slapped me. “Of course not. I’d never—”
“But I need you. I rely on you for so much. You cover my ass at work when shit goes down, you’re there for me when I need someone to talk to, and you’ve been personally responsible for keeping my lights on more than once.”
I bite back the obvious objection—that’s what friends do—because it’s a trap. I know where she’s going with this.
“Abbi and Stella are the same. They need you, and you do so much for them. But they’re still inde-fucking-pendent women. And so are you.” She takes my hand in both of hers and squeezes it. “No one does it alone. Not even Marston.”
I study our fingers as she laces them together. All my strings are busted, but my sister by choice is holding me together the way she has so many times. “You don’t know that.”
She laughs. “Yes, I do. Alec isn’t just Marston’s business partner; he’s his best friend. He bails Marston out all the time—maybe not financially, but still. Marston’s been on the phone with him like crazy since he came back to town.”
I frown. “You keep in touch with Alec?”
“Don’t change the subject.” She pats my hand. “Then there’s Marston’s Aunt Lori, who’s like a mom to him to this day. She still makes him cookies at Christmas, and she’s the one who took care of him when he broke his ankle in college.”
I tilt my head to the side and gape. “Where did you get all this information? Have you been holding out on me?”
She gently smacks my hand this time. “Focus. She takes care of him, and he takes care of her in return. Because that’s what family does—whether it’s the family we were given at birth or the one we put together ourselves.” She sighs heavily. “Think back to the time in your life when you needed someone the most.”
I close my eyes, but not before a tear rolls down my cheek. I needed someone so badly after my sister died, and my parents were too emotionally crippled to give me anything more than money. They still are. “When Brittany died,” I whisper.
“Your world fell apart, and you’ve told me how that felt, but think how it must’ve been for Marston. You were falling apart, and instead of letting him help, you pushed him away.”
I swallow hard, and more hot tears spill onto my cheeks. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
She squeezes my hand again. “I know, baby girl, and no one blames you for the mistakes you made as a grieving sister, but you’ve gotta be bigger than that now. Marston wasn’t calling you out for never doing anything on your own. His issue isn’t that you rely on other people. It’s that you won’t rely on him.”
Sniffling, I open my eyes and see that Savvy’s crying too, and my heart is buoyed by the reminder of the family I’ve found despite everything. “I haven’t told my parents about the wedding or even that I’m seeing him. I thought I was saving him from drama, but . . . he thinks I’m ashamed of him.”
“Shit,” Savvy whispers. “Well, at least you can fix that, right?”
“Can I? I’m not ashamed of him, but I don’t want to tell my parents. I can’t rip that wound open all over again.” I snag the carton of ice cream off the coffee table and stab the melting contents with a spoon. “They aren’t even speaking to me, so what do I care if they disapprove of me dating Marston? I don’t want to care. It’s dumb.”
She shrugs. “It makes sense to me. They’re your parents. But honey, love shouldn’t be conditional. If Marston makes you happy and your parents love you, they’ll find a way to be happy for you. If they don’t . . . well, I know it’s hard, but maybe that means you’re better off letting them pull away.” She squeezes my shoulder. “We make our own family, right?”
I nod, my eyes filling with tears. “That’s what I keep saying.”
“And you know I’m yours until death, whether you want me or not.” She smiles. “What’s the worst that happens if you tell your parents the truth? They cut you off? Already done. They emotionally blackmail you into doing their bidding? Wait, no, that’s what they’ve done for twenty-seven years, and it’s why we’re in this mess now.”
I release a dry laugh, but it sounds as hollow as I feel. “I wish I could argue.”
“You know they’re going to be disappointed. They’ll probably give you a lecture, tell you some bullshit that makes you feel like a bad mom, and then give you the silent treatment for six months to a year. Right?”
I nod. I hadn’t thought it through, but I’ve disappointed my parents before, and Savvy’s litany of “punishments” sounds on point.
“Fuck them, Brin. There’s still a part of you who holds their opinion of you and your life above your own happiness, and I get that—they are your parents, and we’re, like, programmed to let them fuck us up more than any other. But I think it’s time to stop. You don’t owe them shit, and you’re a fucking fabulous mother, and you have an amazing husband who’d fetch the stars for you.”
“And what do I do about The Orchid?”
“I mean, Alec said Marston planned to sign it over to you. So if this is just about having the control, having it in your name, it’s practically done. What do you think the BEK in BEK, LTD stands for?”
Brinley Elizabeth Knox. I close my eyes. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.
She studies me for a beat, then sighs. “But that’s not going to work for you, is it? You didn’t want him to buy you a company.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want that to be part of our relationship—something I always feel hanging in the balance.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Savvy says. “You and your pride.”
I frown. “What do you remember about that night? In Vegas?”
She chuckles and throws her hair back. “A lot that I’m not going to share with you.”
I roll my eyes, though I do appreciate her levity. It’s one of the things I love about her. No matter how serious a situation is, she can always find a way to laugh—not to brush off your problems or ignore them, but as a waypoint so we can catch our breath in the middle of the hard times. “I mean with me, bitch. What on earth happened to give me the courage to marry Marston?”
“Other than some good booze?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. After the second bar, we parted ways. You got that fortune from the machine by the bathroom and practically dragged Marston out of there by his collar. You were a woman on a mission, though I had no idea that mission’s destination was a wedding chapel.”
My heart stumbles into a faster beat and I have to force myself to breathe. “Fortune. What fortune?”
She turns up her palms. “It was one of those machines. You know, you ask it a question and it spits out a card that supposedly answers whatever you asked. I told you it was a waste of money, but you said Brittany had been obsessed with those things when you were kids and insisted on feeding singles into the machine.”
I stand and slide on my shoes.
“Where are you going?”
“To the garage. I need to find my purse from Vegas.”
She gives me a blank look. “Why?”
“I had that little black clutch with me, remember?” When we got home, I never cleaned it out. I just retrieved my ID and credit card and dropped the clutch into the drawer with my spares. Maybe, just maybe, t
here’s an answer in there.
“Wait a second,” Savvy says, but I’m already on my way to the garage, and before she catches up with me, I’ve found the box I’m looking for.
I drop to my knees and dig through it until I find the black leather clutch I carried that night. I hold my breath as I open it, and the first thing I see is a long, thin jewelry box.
I’m an idiot.
I should’ve known he’d end up buying The Orchid for me, should’ve seen it coming a mile away. The first thing he did after not seeing me for more than a decade was try to buy me everything I could possibly want and more. It was as if somewhere in his mind he still had to prove to himself he wasn’t the poor kid. The orphan. The help. He had to prove to himself he could give me all the things my parents had made him believe I needed.
He’s been so focused on giving to me that I don’t think it ever occurred to him I might not want it. And it never occurred to me just how much he needed me to accept his gifts.
My hands shake as I set the jewelry box to the side then dump the purse onto the cold concrete floor.
Lipstick, loose change, and a few bills fall along with a blue ticket the size of a playing card.
“There it is,” Savvy says.
I lift the card that came from a fortune-teller machine, the machine I no doubt used thinking of my dead sister. And when I read it, I know exactly why I married Marston that night.
“Does that smile on your face mean you’re going to run and beg for his forgiveness now?” she asks.
I shake my head. “There’s something else I have to do first.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Brinley
Only after I left a message at their hotel claiming I had an “urgent matter to discuss” did my parents finally agree to meet me. They chose breakfast, at the country club, of course—their turf—and I came here right after dropping Cami at school.