Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
There it was. The rift, the fault line we both stepped on the last time we spoke and the earth gave way.
“I’m sorry,” Lacey said. She said it quick and sure, like pulling a bandage. “I should have said those words first. I should have said them weeks ago. It’s not an excuse, but I need to tell you—when you told me about… Robert, and about Mom and Dad—” Her face crumpled. She steadied it with a breath. “It felt like my world tilted. I was blindsided, and that made me feel guilty, because another part of me wasn’t. It was like hearing the end of a story I’d been reading with pages missing. I think I knew something awful had happened. I just… didn’t know what.”
I stared at her. The honesty of it was both a balm and a blade.
“I wasn’t sure where you stood,” I admitted. I kept my voice even, the way I did when I was telling a patient hard news. “I’m still not.”
“I know.” Lacey rolled her lips. “I kept thinking if I took a minute, took a breath, I’d come back with the right words. And the longer I took, the more wrong every word felt. Meanwhile, you were here. Alone. And I made it worse. I’m so, so sorry.” She reached for my hand before she could second-guess herself. Our fingers linked. They still fit. “I’m getting married, Liv,” she said, her voice wobbling but sure. “And of course, I grew up picturing our parents there. I imagined judging what Mom spent on the flower arrangements and Mom telling the band how to play a Motown set properly. I held on to that picture even when I didn’t want to. I tried to force the world to make sense so the picture wouldn’t have to change.”
I squeezed her hand when her chin trembled. “I get it, it’s—”
“I told them not to come.”
Air left the room in a rush.
“You… what?”
“I told them if they weren’t capable of protecting their daughter when it mattered, then they didn’t get the honor of standing in the front row of my new life.” Her jaw was set, eyes bright, shoulders squared. “I told them if they couldn’t say your name without spitting, they could keep it out of their mouths and out of my day. They argued, and wheedled, and threatened me with a hundred different silences. Mom said she’d cut me off just like they did with you.”
“She means that,” I warned.
“I know. I don’t care. I didn’t waver.”
My hands hovered over my lips. “Oh, Lace…”
“And if you’ll reconsider,” Lacey continued, her voice breaking, “I want you by my side.”
The sentence knocked me back like a wave. For a second, everything was static. Then the softness returned, the smell of vanilla, the cooling air, the quiet insistence of my own heartbeat in my ears.
“I—” I started, eyes burning, rib cage pressing in. “You really want me there?”
“I have always wanted you there.” She leaned forward, our foreheads almost touching, her hands tight in mine. “And I don’t care if Mom and Dad never come around. I don’t care if they want to live in denial for the rest of their lives to save face. I believe you.”
It wasn’t loud, the way she said it. It wasn’t dramatic. It was simple. It was steady.
It was the exact key my rib cage was waiting on to unlock.
Everything in me gave way.
We fell into each other in a hug so healing I gasped at the pressure of it. For years, I’d wondered what it would be like to have my family back, wondered how my life could have differed if I’d have played by the rules my parents played out for me. I never regretted standing my ground, but I regretted losing Lacey in the process.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I choked out. “I should have. I just… I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to protect you. I didn’t want to have to put you in the position to choose.”
“The last thing I ever want you to do is apologize. I am sorry. I knew something had happened, but I was content living in my own blissful ignorance, and I didn’t pry like a good sister should.”
We held each other tighter.
When the worst of the shaking passed, Lacey sniffled and pulled back. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I feel… everything,” I admitted. “Nauseous if I look at raw chicken. Hungry every hour like my stomach is a black hole. Tired like somebody filled my bones with wet sand. And also… full of life. Like there’s this tiny lighthouse inside me I didn’t know I needed.” I shook my head. “I didn’t think this would happen for me. Not like this.”
“Well, I’m glad it did,” she whispered.
We reached for napkins, for bagels, for familiarity. I watched Lacey split an everything with the practiced hand of someone who knew the right ratio of cream cheese to carb, and I swore for a moment we were teenagers again, the kitchen light yellow over our heads, Dad’s shoes thumping down the hall, Mom fretting about crumbs.