Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
The sob that follows rips through me. I pull her in, holding her close. “You’re right, Hattie. Your baby deserves more. And so do you.”
For a moment she stays there, trembling against me, until finally she drags in a shaky breath. Her hands tighten in the blanket like she needs the anchor before she dares to look up. When she does, her eyes are swollen, rimmed with regret that cuts as deep as the tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “For all of it. I can’t regret Finch, not with this baby, but I’ve always regretted hurting you.”
The apology slices through me, reopening wounds I’ve kept buried. “Finch is the least of our problems.” The words are barely a breath. “I lost you long before him—when you became their trophy child.”
She doesn’t deny it, just a sad smile skimming over her face. “You say that like it was a privilege.”
Bitterness rises in my throat. “You seemed happy enough.”
She shakes her head, slow and sad. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to live under their expectations?”
“Yes,” I snap. “That’s why I stopped trying. You didn’t have to either. You chose it.”
Her eyes dull, tired and wounded. “Yeah, so you wouldn’t have to.”
Confusion halts me, the words making no sense.
“What are you talking about?”
Her gaze holds mine, steady through the tears. “Face it—you were the one they really wanted. You had the spark, the fire. They pushed for you first, and I watched it crush you. You were too wild to survive under their thumb. So, I stepped in. Became who they wanted, hoping they would leave you alone. And they did.”
I want to deny it, write it off as an excuse, but the memories won’t let me. The endless lectures about my potential. The pressure for dance, the violin, even pre-med. And then Hattie stepped in, quietly agreeing to it all…and just like that, the weight shifted. The pressure on me disappeared.
“You should have told me,” I whisper.
All the years lost between us, wasted on anger and silence, when underneath it we were both just bleeding in different ways.
“What good would that have done? You would’ve fought for me, and then it would’ve defeated the purpose.” She shrugs, but the motion is nowhere near as careless as she wants it to be. “It was better me than you. I wasn’t born with your fire. I was just boring old Hattie. I won’t lie, their expectations gave me a place, something to cling to when I felt like nothing, but it came at such a sacrifice.”
Her pain threads through the quiet like an echo before a soft smile takes over.
“But then I’d watch you out there, laughing, running free, chasing everything you loved…and it made the weight a little easier to bear. At least for a while. Until…Finch.”
She swallows, her throat working hard.
“You didn’t know how I felt, I know that. But it was one more thing you had that I didn’t.” She shakes her head. “That envy rotted me, Harlow. Made me become a shell of who I was, and in the end, it cost me the only real friend I had, even from a distance—my sister.”
My vision blurs, every word she confesses stabbing me in the chest.
“I don’t want that anymore,” she whispers. “I never really did. I know I hurt you, Harlow—I betrayed you in ways you didn’t deserve, and I’ve regretted it every day since, but I want my sister back. I want my baby to know their aunt, to grow up with the kind of love we didn’t. I’ve missed you so much, and I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”
I hug her again, my own tears breaking loose as I hold her tight. “I’ve missed you too. You’re better than you know, Hattie. Better than their expectations. And you’re going to be the best mom.”
We cling to each other, like two little girls did so long ago when they had no one else but each other.
All this time, I thought she had it all—that being the favorite made her whole in ways I could never be. But I was wrong. Hattie hadn’t been living a charmed life; she’d been surviving one that hollowed her out, clinging to a love that chipped away at her, piece by painful piece.
No more. This is where it all changes.
For both of us.
The patio at Rocky Mountain Flatbread is quieter than usual, just a handful of locals and tourists lured in by the scent of wood-fired pizza and the sweep of glacier peaks beyond town.
I lean back in my chair, one arm hooked over the backrest, the other resting near the sweating root beer on the table. The sun warms my shoulders, but it doesn’t settle the restless hum under my skin as I wait for Harlow.
I haven’t seen her since her sister showed up a complete fucking wreck.