The Other Sister (Sister Series, #1)

by Leanne Davis

  Will was stretching, all two hundred pounds of raw muscle bending over, pulling, and flexing as his beautiful body prepared to do what God obviously meant it to do. She merely stood there, yawning.

  “This is stupid.”

  “Your lack of ambition is stupid. Now bend over.”

  “I’ve never had it said to me quite that way before.”

  He rolled his eyes and glared at her. She finally laughed. He didn’t like her past, and he hated her being crude, or acting like who and what she thought she was. He pretended the rapes made her more tragic, more pure, than she actually was.

  “Just stretch.”

  She bent over, and found her fingers were about five inches from reaching the floor. Okay, maybe she was bit young for such inflexibility.

  Will finally stood up and opened the front door.

  “It’s still dark out there.”

  “It is. I’ll be with you, right next to you. You can do this.”

  “I hate the dark.”

  “I know you do. But I have to report to work. So it’s now.”

  “Or never,” she mumbled.

  “Jessie, one foot in front of the other. You can do that.”

  She obeyed, if only to shut him up. She followed his tight, perfect ass as he took the lead, his stride long, graceful, and perfect. She was huffing before she reached the end of the street, and trailing before the second turn. Sweating and hyperventilating after only a half mile into it, she stopped, and wanted to fall flat onto the ground. Will slowed down, before turning and jogging back to her.

  “Good. Now, keep walking before you cramp up.”

  “Good? I made it about two feet.”

  “You started. It’s a good start. That’s all you can do is start.”

  She glared up at him from the pavement, beads of sweat dropping from her hairline down her face, while huffing and puffing as her calf muscles burned. Still, she heard his tone. She saw that the whole exercise was much more than just a little jog. It was about her life.

  He put his arm out, and opened his hand to hers. She looked at him in all his healthy, un-sweaty, glory, and positive, coach-like reinforcement. Finally, she accepted his hand and he pulled her up until she was standing next to him and looking up into his face.

  “Tonight, we’re going to the gym.”

  “What? So I can start bench pressing my weight?”

  “No. So I can teach you some self-defense moves. There’s no reason you can’t learn to protect yourself. Why not start tonight?”

  Then he turned and began walking back towards their apartment. She stared after him, feeling confused, upset and totally lost. But she noticed an odd fluttering inside her. It felt so different, and new. What could it be? A stirring of hope? Interest? Optimism?

  ****

  She eyed Will as they stood across a blue-padded mat from each other. She didn’t want to look as incapable as she felt, but there was no way she could do what he was asking of her. Why didn’t he realize she couldn’t do it? Deflect a man the size of Will? Yeah, right. If he wanted to attack her, or pin her down, well, of course, she knew that’s exactly what would happen.

  “Need I remind you I’m pregnant?”

  “I told you, we’ll start easy. Just basic stuff. Someday, when you’re not pregnant, I’m going to show you how to defend yourself no matter who or what attacks you.”

  She turned, ready to storm off the mat. “I’m not one of your stupid soldiers.”

  He came closer to her, and touched her shoulder. She hated how easily he made her feel small and cowardly for her snide remarks. How easily he could make her want to follow him to the ends of the earth, if only to get his approval. She knew, however, how dangerous it was to feel like that. She finally looked over her shoulder.

  “You’re not helpless. I’m going to see to it that you finally realize that.”

  She turned to him. “What do I have to do first?”

  He nodded, and gave her a half grin that made her heart soar. “First let’s talk about the most vulnerable places on a man.”

  “I think I have a pretty good idea of that.”

  “Then let me teach you what to do with that knowledge.”

  He spent an hour showing her moves, repeatedly, but patiently. She wasn’t the least bit athletic and didn’t pick things up easily. He had the patience of a saint, and never complained how many times he had to do it. He watched her practice, and tweaked her movements. When she ultimately managed to hit him correctly, right on the marks and as he instructed, her mouth gaped open in surprise. She rushed into Will’s arms, despite having just hit him in the balls. He caught her as she launched herself with self-satisfaction at him.

  “I did it! I really did it.”

  “You did it.” He grinned at her and she basked in his approval.

  After that first day, she got up early every morning with no grumbling. When she got tired, sweaty, or winded, she remembered the pride she saw on Will’s face, and pushed harder and longer, determined to gain his respect. If not from mastering the defensive moves, then from trying with all her heart. She jogged a little farther each day, and soon got to a mile, then beyond. She practiced all of his self-defense moves while he was gone.

  He left a list on the kitchen counter each morning, asking her to pick up some fresh fruit, and maybe some steaks or chicken. She started grocery shopping for him. He gave her his credit card, with no qualms, and no admonishments about spending too much, or imposing limits. She took that as a sign of his trust in her and decided not to abuse it. She began helping around the apartment, seeing as she could hardly leave it. He complimented her on the shopping, and made sure to praise her for any efforts that kept her off the couch. She knew why he was doing it. Taking little, baby steps to make her feel like she could accomplish more, if she did more. And the thing was, his encouragement worked. She wanted to please him and she kept trying.

  ****

  She forgave Will’s absence, and for being a soldier, and for trying to manage her as if she were his class project, and he was aiming for an A. At least, he kept trying with her. No one else would, and he didn’t insist on sleeping with her to do it. That was a first.

  She got hungry one night and Will was late. She wandered into the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator. Will usually cooked for himself: meat and vegetables. She foraged for unhealthy snacks and crackers. Finding none, however, she pulled out a cookbook and flipped through it. She figured she could probably manage to cook something if she just bothered to read and follow the instructions.

  She easily cut some leftover meat and opened some cans. After boiling water and broth, she eventually made the recipe for minestrone soup she found in the cookbook. She was surprised at the odd rush of pride she felt in the simple task of preparing a decent meal.

  When Will came home, and smelled the aroma, he went into the kitchen. His look of shocked delight was enough to convince her she should try it again.

  “You tried something new today.”

  “I boiled some beans and broth.”

  “You did something new. You should take something from that.”

  She looked at him as he passed her and went to the sink to wash his hands. It was something he did each time he came home from anywhere. He was meticulous and always kept the apartment cleaned up. He didn’t say a word when he picked up her clutter, or did her dishes and laundry. Not a word about the red underwear she purposely left on the floor to see if he’d wash them. Despite her constantly testing him, she found them neatly folded in her drawer the next day. He never said a word about it. Eventually, she got so embarrassed of his doing everything, she began to do more. No matter what she did, anything at all, he invariably complimented, encouraged, and praised her. It was kind of creepy. Like an infant learning to walk, every small task she accomplished was lauded and praised. Still, it was working.

  She dished up a bowl for each of them. He wordlessly took it, and sat at the little table, while she sat across from
him. He took a small taste and she watched his face. He flinched, holding his hand up to his throat, and gagged. She started to stand up before she noticed his smile. His eyes were laughing. He didn’t often tease her.

  “It’s good. Try it.”

  She did. “It tastes like minestrone soup.”

  “Wasn’t that the goal?”

  She laughed. “Yes.”

  “Thank you. I haven’t had anyone cook for me in awhile.”

  She took several spoonfuls before finally asking, “Your wife, your real wife, I mean, did she cook for you?”

  He paused and lowered his spoon to his soup. She rarely asked him personal questions. He nodded. “Yes, she did. Yes. She was a fantastic cook.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Like? I don’t know. She was kind, quiet, but had a great sense of humor. She’d say things that would surprise you because she didn’t look like she’d ever say them.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Tall, blond, green eyes. Why the sudden interest?”

  She shrugged and looked into her soup. “Just curious. She sounds a little like Lindsey.”

  He glanced at her profile. “Yeah, I guess she does.”

  “Did you like my sister?”

  “You know I did.”

  “Would you have continued dating her?”

  “I don’t know. Tough to say.”

  “But you wanted to try?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m—”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t say you’re with me now. Because you’re not. You’re babysitting me. Why don’t you tell Lindsey the truth? You could date her on the side, you know, get things started for when you divorce me. For when you’re free.”

  “I think you should tell Lindsey the truth because you need her. And I’m not going to date anyone while I’m married to you.”

  “Semantics. We’re no more married than I am a virgin.”

  Will stopped eating and leaned back in his chair. “What happened today? Why are you picking a fight?”

  She got up and started clearing her dishes. “I’m not. That’s stupid.”

  “What happened?”

  She collapsed against the sink. How did he know? “I can’t button my pants.”

  Will’s gaze studied her face. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “My pants no longer button. My stomach is getting too big. It means the baby is growing. And it’s probably going to make it.”

  “Were you hoping to miscarry?”

  Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them out. She rarely cried anymore. She never cried in front of Will. “Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, I haven’t done anything on purpose, not since that night I got wasted and embarrassed you and Lindsey. But I guess I hoped it would resolve itself.”

  Will rose and came up behind her. She wished he’d touch her, put his arms out, and let her fall against him. But Will didn’t do that with her. He didn’t touch or soothe her.

  “Then I guess we’re having a baby.”

  She looked up. “What?”

  “I guess we should let it be known you and I are having a baby. You probably need some clothes huh? What are they called? Maternity wear?”

  She nodded. He turned to leave the kitchen, but glanced back.

  “My wife’s name was Gretchen. When she miscarried, it broke her heart. She grieved for months. Even now, she still commemorates the day, she’s never forgotten it. You could look at it from that perspective too.”

  Jessie stared blindly at the sink. She dug fingers into her arm and held her breath. He’d leave soon to go lift weights. He’d leave her alone. She could go into the bathroom and be alone. She’d just bring the scissors with her, since he’d taken out all the razors.

  ****

  Her fingers were turning colors. He hadn’t seen Jessie strung as tightly as this in a while. He knew she cut. He didn’t always know when or why. He did, however, know she was going there now in her head.

  “What is it? Come on, you can tell me.”

  “Your wife probably wanted that baby. She probably planned for it, named it, and dreamed of how she’d decorate the nursery, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. She did.”

  “I hate it.”

  “You hate what?” he asked gently. She turned, about to walk past him, but he stopped her. “What do you hate?”

  “This baby! Okay? I hate this baby. I feel like a foreign parasite has crawled into my belly, and is sucking the life out of me. Everyday I feel sick, I feel tired, I puke, and I just want to push it out of me. It’s them, Will. It’s part of those men I’m growing inside of me, that will eventually climb out of me. Evil. It’s all the evil there is in the world. Go ahead, look at me with disdain. Hate me. Now you see how right my father was about me. I’m just as selfish and evil as those men were.”

  She pushed past him and he let her go. Then he asked quietly, “Now are you going to take a razor to your skin? Will that help things? Make it all go away?”

  “Fuck you. What do you know about pain?”

  “Your pain? A lot. You’re not going there. Not tonight.”

  “What are you going to do? Stop me?”

  “Yeah,” he said gently. “I am. Come on. Let’s go to a movie.”

  “After what I just told you, you want to go to a movie? As in a theater? Like sixteen-year-old kids? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “No. I’m not kidding. Get your coat.”

  She stared at him with all her young contempt and belligerence. Finally, she whipped around, but came back with her coat. When she put it on, he noticed she was right, her stomach was finally starting to round out.

  “This won’t help,” she said with a huff as she flopped into his truck.

  “It won’t hurt either. That’s what you’ve got to start noticing. It doesn’t have to be big things. Little things won’t solve it, but they might get you through an evening.”

  He started his truck. She scowled and huddled against his window. He let her decompress. The theater was close and uncrowded. They saw a new thriller. She watched it and ate popcorn, without pushing her fingers into her skin.

  In the dark of the truck’s cab, on the way back to their apartment, she finally spoke. “Why don’t you tell me what anyone else would? That I can’t hate this baby? It didn’t ask to be conceived anymore than I asked for it.”

  He smiled in the dark. She was getting somewhere. “Because it doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters what you think. And maybe you need to hate things for awhile before you get to where you might like them again.”

  After about five minutes of silence, she said softly, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Will dreaded being cornered by General Bains. He rarely told Jessie about it, but it was happening more and more often. The man wanted to know everything about Jessie. He presented himself as if he were her loving father, but Will knew it was something different. It was some sick control game General Bains had over Jessie. Will did his best to jump through the hoops without betraying Jessie, but it was becoming harder for him to maintain.

  Then dear, old Dad decided Will and Jessie should come over for a family dinner. Lindsey would be there. Will wanted to tell the man to “Fuck off!” but instead, nodded, and said, “Yes, sir, what time and day?” before saluting the asshole. He worried all day about how he could ask Jessie to go there.

  Will had to get in touch with Lindsey because he needed her assistance with Jessie. Any day, he’d be deployed again, and this time, he wanted Jessie to have some help, if she needed it. He hadn’t seen Lindsey since the wedding. He could hardly look her in the eye that day, knowing how she knew what a fraud he was.

  That night, he told Jessie the news. She nodded, and said, “Fine.” He was more shaken by her calm response than even her normal extreme ones. He wondered how much skin she’d slice in order to prepare for dinner with her father.

  ****<
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  Jessie stood ramrod still next to Will on her father’s doorstep, as they waited for someone to open the door. Will put a hand on her back and she jumped, he so rarely touched her. His hand felt warm, heavy, and wonderful. Her resolve shored up. No matter what Will withheld from her, or if he really didn’t want to be to her, he was nonetheless always supportive. He managed to change the dynamics of her entire relationship with her family by simply freeing her from her father’s abuse.

  “If you need anything, tell me.”

  She glanced up and nodded. In that instant, the door opened.

  Jessie entered the house the general had transformed into a shrine of his greatness. After not being here for two months, Jessie realized she hadn’t missed it for one second. The minute she stepped into the perfect, but oppressively decorated living room, she was back to being Jessie Bains. It seemed to suck her right back into her terrible, former self.

  Lindsey stood up slowly, her long legs lifting her slim body into a graceful stand. She wore pastel slacks and her blond hair fell in soft ringlets over her shoulder, cascading down her back in an innocent, yet sensuous appeal that only she possessed. Subtle. Soft. Pure. Everything Jessie wasn’t. Jessie’s looks were purely sexual: pouting lips, ample, round boobs, and hair she kept just messy enough to suggest what might’ve done that.

  Will’s gaze lingered on Lindsey. She saw the glint in his eye, the way their eyes met and something, like a current, passing between them. They were saying something to each other, talking through their looks, something she and Will never did. Will was looking with regret at Lindsey. For what? Was he sorry to be entering their living room beside Jessie? She hated Lindsey in that moment.

  Jessie flinched when she recognized the two couples who were sitting past her sister, rapt in conversation with her father. They were Senator Johnstone and his wife, and Senator Sans and his wife. Jessie wanted to die right then and there. Oh God. No. She couldn’t be forced to sit down to dinner with both of them. Not with Will there. Not with Lindsey. She’d never make it. She had to get out. Get away now. But she couldn’t. She was trapped.