by S. M. West
We go into the bathroom and I crouch to test the water temperature in the tub. She leans against the counter with her eyes on me. When I turn to face her, she’s studying me as if working up the courage to say something.
“So, who’s the lucky girl?”
“What girl?” My brow wrinkles and I cock my head to the side, not following her thought.
“Catching the garter means you’re next to get married. So who are you dating right now? She could be the one.”
It’s like watching a flower bloom as each word from her mouth unfurls and brings back the outspoken, bold girl I fell in love with.
Hope is a precious thing and I cling to it like a lifeline. My Pippa is in there somewhere. She isn’t lost, just hiding.
“I’m not dating anyone. Besides, there’s only one woman for me.” I step within an inch from her, now bolstered by hope.
“Who?” She rests her hands on my shoulders and her cornflower blue eyes gaze up at me expectantly.
“I’m looking at her.”
I dip my head to kiss her, to take what I most probably shouldn’t but I’m unable to stop myself. At the last minute, she turns her head, giving me her cheek.
My lips barely press against her silky soft skin when she yelps, “Drew, the water!” She scrambles to turn off the faucets as water laps at the edges of the porcelain.
“Shit,” I chuckle, staring down at the near overflowing bathtub, realizing she can’t immerse herself without more water spilling onto the floor.
“Let’s bring the water down a bit.”
I roll up my sleeve and slide my hand into the tub to release the plug. Water gurgles down the drain and when it’s at an acceptable level, I push the metal plug back in.
“There you go. Do you need help getting in?” I ask while drying off my arm.
“No, I’m good.”
Handing her a towel, I head to the door when she grabs my hand and says, “Drew, thank you. This is exactly what I needed.”
11
Drew
“Where’s my girl?” Colin’s voice booms in the entryway. I’d buzzed him in and was trying to get his daughter to wake up before he made it to my condo. “Look at sleeping beauty.”
Pippa stirs from her slumber on the sofa as he sits beside her, and his large hand brushes her blonde locks from her face.
“Daddy?” she asks sleepily, rubbing at her eyes and stretching.
“Pippa.” His voice holds a reverence I’ve never heard from the big, gruff man, and I slip soundlessly into the kitchen, feeling like an intruder.
Silence mingles with sniffs and murmurs and my stomach knots, anxious for their reunion. Next to Finn, her father is the one Pippa’s most nervous to see. And once he hears about Brock, who knows what the man will do. He isn’t violent but he also isn’t a lamb. He wanted to kill the guy who tried, but failed, to harm his youngest daughter, Claire. I can only imagine what he’ll want to do to the man who actually hurt Pippa.
“You’re skin and bones. Why aren’t you eating?” His question is heartfelt but also laced with agitation.
“I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
“Well that shit stops now.” The sofa creaks and I edge closer to the doorway. “What the hell is going on?”
“Dad, can we talk about this another time?” The way she asks suggests that she already knows her question is futile.
“No. You’ve avoided us for way too long. Talk.” He’s stern and some may think she needs a gentler touch, but she adores her father and doesn’t know him any other way. He is exactly what she needs.
“Er, I’m gonna—” I stumble awkwardly into the room, reminding them that I’m here. It feels wrong to listen to their conversation out of sight.
“Drew, come, sit.” Her father points to a chair and she pales at his invitation. I don’t blame her for not wanting me to sit in on what is sure to be difficult for her, even if I have tried many times to get her to open up to me.
“It’s okay, I’ll—” I edge in the direction of the bedrooms.
“Drew, stay.” Her voice is strong and steady as color slowly creeps back into her cheeks.
She looks from me to her father and says, “My marriage is over. Brock isn’t the man I thought he was.”
I perch on the arm of a chair, the adage careful what you wish for running through my mind because I’m not sure if I’ll feel better or worse after she tells all.
“Go on,” her father says.
“I quit my job because he couldn’t handle that I work with men every day.” Her features are dull and she avoids eye contact with either of us. “He’s jealous and controlling, and I didn’t see any of this until after we were married.”
Her father tenses as his fingers curl into tight fists, but he doesn’t say a word, instead taking slow, measured breaths, his expression remaining open, caring and transfixed on his daughter.
“He…” She tightly clasps her hands together in her lap. “He hits me.”
It’s barely a whisper and her bedhead of hair falls forward with the dropping of her chin to her chest, curtaining her face.
“Christ,” her father says, pushing from the couch like a launched rocket. His hands knot in his short blond hair and his face contorts painfully as he paces in a circle of fury.
Pippa slumps further into the furniture, withering from the sordid body blow of truth, and seeing her reaction, her dad comes to his senses. In two quick strides, he’s at her side.
“Go on,” he coaxes and tenderly tucks the tangle of gold strands behind her ear. She bites down on her bottom lip and one of his hands hooks behind her neck protectively, bringing her closer.
“I’ll spare you the details,” she whispers, burying her face into his chest.
“Don’t.” His voice is sharp, and he pauses, clenching his jaw as a vein pops in his neck, bulging and pulsing as the silent seconds tick by.
With her head held high, she wipes away a tear and says confidently, “I left. I’m not going back.”
Her gaze drifts my way, perhaps to see if I’m still here? Still listening? Tears cling to her lower lashes and her sadness pinches my heart.
“Good.” Her father holds her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “Pip, you can tell me anything. I’m willing to listen.”
“You don’t… You don’t know what you’re asking.” The corners of her lips sag with the weight of her shame and sadness. “Dad, I just can’t right now.”
Not wanting her father to push her anymore, I wrestle with the impulse to defend her in hopes of getting him to back off, but I’m torn. She may not want to talk, or be ready to talk, and I respect that, but she shouldn’t have to carry this alone.
“I can’t. This is the only way I know how to tell it.” She chokes out a distressing sound. “For now.”
Her father wraps his arms around her and closes his eyes, holding onto her for dear life. The wrongness of witnessing his anguish seeps into my bones and I cast my eyes downward. I wonder if like me, it’s his imagination—conjuring what was done to Pippa—that threatens to drive him mad.
“I promise to tell you more when I can,” she says in soft undertones. “Besides, it’ll only make all of us feel crappy.” A forced, halfhearted chuckle passes her lips.
With a quick hug for Pippa and a pat on Colin’s back, I disappear to my room. Sleep will elude me, and as much as I wish she was going to be in my bed tonight, not in the guest room down the hall, I find some peace in knowing she isn’t in California at the mercy of her husband.
We spend the morning in relative silence, comfortable in each other’s company without the need to say anything. Her smiles are more frequent today and she has a bounce in her step when we leave for my parents’. She’s feeling better, less sore, and she seems lighter since seeing her mother and talking to her father.
I park my car at the curb in front of my mother’s house and see my little brother, Bas, and Paige horsing around with a football on the front lawn.
; “She shoots! She scores!” Paige shouts, tossing the football across the small patch of grass to Bas.
The little man rolls his eyes, shaking his head, and jumping into the air to catch the ball. Laughter bubbles in my chest and Pippa snickers beside me, slapping her thigh at my silly sister before jogging to her.
“Girlfriend, you need to get your sports straight.” She faux-tackles Paige to the ground, a little stiffly, and my sister squeals, going down like a deck of cards.
Bas jogs to the two women laughing and rolling around, and they stop to peer up at him. They’re both wearing goofy grins.
“And in case you didn’t know it. This is a football.” He holds up the ball with one hand and rakes the other through the floppy chestnut mass of hair covering his eyes.
“Whatever,” Paige says, before pulling Pippa to sitting and wrapping her arms around her best friend with another delighted squeal.
“That’s right, you’re a girl. Whatever,” my eleven-year-old brother says mockingly.
“Hey, watch it.” Pippa pulls away from Paige’s embrace long enough to playfully swat Bas on the leg.
“Sorry, Pippa.” His cheeks heat by the second and he sheepishly glances down at her, extending a hand as a peace offering. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Bas.” She takes his outstretched hand and leaps to her feet. “You’ve gotten so big.”
He wraps his arms around her middle and I watch my brother with renewed interest. My baby bro has a crush. A crush on my girl. I can’t blame the little guy.
“What about me?” Paige whines, holding her hand out for someone to help her up. Bas giggles as does Pip, both ignoring her, and my sister pouts, releasing a frustrated growl.
“Come here, you big baby,” I say, yanking her up.
“You guys are brutal,” she mutters, brushing the odd blade of grass from her fancy suede pants. She’s dressed for a cocktail party, not turkey dinner and to play some ball.
“You’re welcome.” I gently push at her shoulder and she sticks her tongue out at me before lunging at Pippa and hugging her from the back. “Ohmigod, I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Can I get in on that action?” Mom asks from the porch, ambling quickly down the steps toward the huddle forming around Pippa.
Olivia Cassidy, my mom, moves in beside Bas and with the two of them close together, there’s no denying they are mother and son. Her surprise baby, eighteen years after Paige, is the spitting image of her with his brown eyes and hair, and the biggest heart. Having had enough, Bas wiggles out from the mass of women, glancing at me, disgusted.
“One day, buddy, you’re gonna wish you were smothered by a bunch of beautiful women,” I promise.
“Aww, nicely played, big bro.” Paige punches me in the arm harder than I anticipate, and I clench my jaw.
“My two ‘P’s in a pod,” Mom says, gushing as she squeezes both girls.
“Hey, Olivia,” Pippa says, closing her eyes and grinning.
Just then, Sam saunters from the house and releases a belly laugh at the sight before him. Without a second thought, he makes a beeline for the bunch, picking Pippa up by the waist and twirling her around. Her blonde hair fans out behind her like a wave of gold and she’s laughing, so carefree and happy. My heart sings to glimpse the bubbly woman I fell in love with. She has been shrouded in sadness these past few days.
“Hey, we missed you, Pip.” Sam plunks her on the ground with one final squeeze.
“I missed you too.” She takes in each of us surrounding her. “All of you.”
The slam of a car door across the street breaks the moment as Finn walks toward the house, hand in hand with Cass. They are beaming and his eyes are huge, blue globes of light, glued to his sister.
“Fuck me,” he says, running toward her.
“Finn, language!” Mom chastises while the rest of us give in to fits of laughter.
Pippa stiffens and everyone disperses, giving the siblings some space. He stops a foot in front of his sister, barely containing his excitement and flexes his fingers as if itching to hug her. But he’s smart, having picked up on her wary vibes. They haven’t spoken in ages and when they do, it’s stilted and painful. Pippa blames Finn for the breakup, or more accurately, she blames both of us. After all, I chose Finn over her. That’s how she sees things, even if that was never my intention.
“Can I hug you?” he whispers nervously.
Cass slides her arm around my waist and smiles. We are both so impressed with Finn. How far he has come from the dark, angry man he was for the past several years. It wasn’t an easy path and he has his moments, but each day, he is more like his old self.
“I don’t know.” Pippa cocks a hip, slyly grinning, and arches a brow. “Can you?”
12
Pippa
“Come here.” My brother grabs my shoulders, bringing me into his warm embrace, and his strong arms hold me tight while I bury my face in his chest.
Finn.
So many emotions kick around my insides, slamming into my heart and bubbling up my throat. I want to cry, laugh, and scream with both joy and anger. For most of my life, Finn was the best big brother there ever was. Sure, we fought, got each other into trouble, but we were also thick as thieves.
Until Drew.
Until Drew and I got together.
Then no matter what I said, Finn was disappointed in both of us, feeling betrayed by his best friend and his sister. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the truth. Drew wasn’t a threat to me. He wasn’t a predator. He was the opposite. My biggest protector. After all, I gave him my heart.
“You haven’t changed one bit,” Finn says into my hair. “You’re still a smartass.”
I slowly pull back, staring up at him. “You look good.” I fuss with the ends of his blond hair, just like mine. “Marriage agrees with you. No, actually, Cass is the secret to your happiness.”
I glance over my shoulder to where Cass leans comfortably against Drew’s side, and she waves her fingers at me, mouthing hi with a wink.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Finn chuckles and pulls me in again, resting his chin on the crown of my head. “I’ve missed you so much, Pip.”
There’s so much emotion in his words that it hurts my heart.
“Hey, let me have a turn.” Cass pulls at Finn, squeezing between us to hug me.
Tears of joy prick at the back of my eyes. I’m finally home and all my reasons for staying away are forgotten. They don’t matter.
“Guys, stop, you’re going to make me cry.” I hiccup and step back.
Finn slips his arm around his wife’s waist, and they both stare affectionately at me. They look so happy and it’s been too long since I’ve seen them like this. When I left, their relationship was strained. My brother was a wreck, riddled with remorse and struggling to gain control of a reality we all face. The unknown.
We live in a world with countless unknown threats waiting around every corner, but we can’t let them paralyze us. My brother did. When a threat came too close for comfort, he forgot how to deal. He was paralyzed by the fear and unable to move on.
And Cass, so strong and loyal to my brother, she stood by his side through it all. Even when he ruthlessly pushed her away or made staying with him hell. She never left.
Sam coaxes us into the house with the promise of drinks and delicious food. My parents and other siblings, Tom and Claire, are already here, and it’s like I never left. There’s laughter, easy banter and so much joy. I missed this relaxed familial feeling whenever all of us were together. It’s nothing like the silent oppression of living with Brock.
“Come and get it.” Tom’s voice booms over the noise, waltzing into the room with a large platter of turkey in his hands.
I still can’t get over how much my baby brother has grown. He’s a man. Now all the raunchy Tinder stories Paige and Claire shared over the years—the ones I just couldn’t equate with my little brother—make sense as I take in the devilishly hand
some man before me.
Delicious aromas waft through the air, steam rising from the tender meat, and saliva pools in my mouth. Sam, Drew, my mom, and Olivia round out the parade, each carrying a platter or two of yummy goodness to add to the feast.
We gather around the long dining table and Bas kicks Drew from the seat beside me. I laugh as the grown man grumbles but gives in to the wishes of his younger brother. Both look to me, their smiles the same—there’s no doubt they’re related—yet different. Where Bas casts a shy, boyish grin my way, Drew’s is heated, confident, and promising. As if to say, I’ll let the little guy have his time with you, but I’ve got bigger plans for us.
I feel Drew’s warm attention in my bones and like it. It’s almost as if nothing has changed and I almost feel like the woman I used to be. Easy-going, trusting, happy. I let Brock drive away my true self. I thought I was lost forever. But now, sitting among my family—the people I love the most in the world—gives me a feeling of belonging that makes me see I’m closer than I think to being me.
Troubles and differences aside, my family is what matters. All these people around this table. And again, I ask myself, how could I have forgotten that very important fact?
After dinner, the parents go into the family room and the rest of us clean up. Because we’re so many, it doesn’t take too long and when we’re done, the football game, LA Rockets vs. Seattle Surge, plays in surround sound on the huge flat screen TV above the fireplace. Dad’s yelling at the ref when we enter the family room and I hang back with a now-mild ache in my side from where Brock’s fist hit me. A reminder, like I could forget, of why I’m here and what I’m trying to put behind me.
I lean against the wall, taking in the familiar jerseys splashed across the screen, and recall a time when I thought of them as my team; in some ways, they still are. But Brock would argue they’re his. He can have them.
As quarterback, Matt’s at the line of scrimmage and Jupiter, his center, snaps the ball. My eyes track his every move, and the throbbing in my lower back becomes more insistent, as if screaming not to find Brock even though he’s on the field.
