But this new version of her started after Dad left. It’s not a mid-life crisis. It’s just … how she is now.
As soon as we get to my apartment, I make Taylor go to the guest bedroom and pick out an outfit. There’s no way I’m letting her walk around looking this way. It doesn’t surprise me when she comes skipping out of her room with a wide smile on her face and a pink tutu dress draped across her arm.
“Ready for a bath?” I ask, stroking her blonde hair—hair identical to my own honey color.
She scrunches her nose. “Mommy doesn’t make me take baths.”
I kneel down to her level. “That’s because Mom wasn’t doing her job. You can’t keep going to school the way you are. Bathing is really important, Taylor. So is wearing clean clothes. That’s why I bought you all of those clothes in there. Okay?”
Her hazel eyes light up. “Those are mine?”
I tap her nose. “Every single one of them.”
She hugs me tightly around my neck. I pick her up and take her into the bathroom, grabbing a Barbie bath towel for her to use after her bubble bath. I let her get undressed while I run the water, making sure it isn’t too hot.
I comb her hair before she gets in so it won’t knot as bad after I wash it. She sits in the tub happily, pretending her Barbie is a mermaid.
“What’s her name?”
“Kasey,” she answers cheerfully.
I smile to myself as I wet her hair down. “Why did you name your Barbie after me?”
“You gave her to me.”
I grab the shampoo and start working it into her thick hair. “I forgot about that. That was a couple years ago. I’m surprised you still have it.”
“It’s my favorite.”
My smile widens. “I’m glad you like it, Tay.”
She starts talking to it as she plays in the bubbly water. When I’m done washing and rinsing her hair, I pass her a washcloth and instructed her to clean the rest of herself up. She does so happily, humming to herself a tune that I’m not familiar with.
After her bath, she dries off, gets dressed, and follows me into the living room. I slowly comb her hair as she watches SpongeBob, trying my best not to tug too hard. I braid it back since it’s finally long enough. During the beginning of the summer I had to take her to the hairdresser to get it cut, because the split ends she had were horrible.
There’s a knock at the door just as I tie off the end of the braid. Taylor jumps up and runs toward the door, her bare feet thumping against the hardwood.
“Taylor!” I warn as she reaches for the handle.
She opens it just as I walk up to her. I pull her away from the door in fear of who it is. Mom doesn’t know where I live, but it’s a small town. She can easily look for my vehicle and find it. Of course, she would have to actually care that I took away her child first.
Ian stands at the door, easing some of my worry.
I turn around momentarily, directing my gaze down at Taylor. She looks up at me, dimples popping up on her cheeks. I scold, “Don’t answer the door again. It’s dangerous.”
She frowns.
“Why are you here?” I ask, turning my attention back on Ian.
He peels his eyes off Taylor. “I uh … brought you hot chocolate,” he mutters. He clears his throat and passes me one of the Styrofoam cups. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you …”
Taylor already moved on to better things, running into the living room to play with her dolls on the floor. I know she doesn’t have a great attention span, and it helped me in this case.
“She looks just like you,” he tells me quietly. He appears to be uncomfortable, which is entertaining to see since he was so cocky last night. “If I knew that you had a family I wouldn’t have hit on you.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of me.
His eyebrow raises.
“The reason we look so much alike is because she’s my sister,” I explain in amusement. I could have played along and pretended I was unavailable, but the last thing I needed is Taylor to overhear my lie and believe that she’s mine.
Relief floods his features. “I was about to compliment you for having that body after a kid,” he says next, returning to his cocky self.
I peer down at my body. I don’t see how he can really tell what I look like since I’m wearing skinny jeans and a baggy sweatshirt.
“Uh … thanks?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who doesn’t see how beautiful they are. Or one of those girls who starves herself to look pretty.”
I put the cup down on the top of the shelf. “I’m not one of those girls,” I inform him. “In fact, I’m pretty sure if we had an eating competition, I’d win. I seem to recall you remembering my previous body type when we were little?”
Taylor shows back up. “Is he your boyfriend?”
I blush. “No, Tay.”
Ian smirks. “Do you think we’d make a good couple?” he asks her, kneeling so they’re eye level to each other.
Smiling, Taylor nods.
He looks up at me and winks. “What would you say about catching up tomorrow night? I can pick you up around seven thirty.”
Is he serious?
Taylor tugs on my hand. “Sissy, say yes!”
“No.”
She frowns. “He likes you.”
“Yeah, Kasey,” Ian agrees, “say yes.”
I shake my head. “Taylor has dance practice that runs until eight. I have to bring her there at seven and pick her back up.”
“So we’ll go out before you have to bring her. Or while she’s there.”
Does he not get the hint? “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because …” I glance at Taylor. “I promised Taylor that we’d have a girl’s day. I can’t break a promise, can I? She’d be devastated.”
“No you didn’t!” she argues.
I eye her.
Ian laughs. “Are you lying, Kasey? I’m shocked.”
“You says it’s bad to lie,” Taylor tells me.
“It’s ‘said,’ Taylor,” I correct her.
She sticks out her bottom lip. “Santa won’t come.”
Ian nods along with her. “She’s right, Kasey. What would you do if Santa Claus didn’t come this Christmas because you lied to me?”
He’s got to be kidding me. He’s totally using my own sister as a weapon! If anything, that’s my job. And the worst part is, Taylor likes him. She doesn’t like a lot of people, especially guys, after the winners Mom tends to bring home.
“Do you want coal?” Taylor asks me in a small voice, like saying the word coal is bad.
Ian matches her pouty face. “Do you, Kasey?”
“Oh for crying out loud,” I grumble. “You’re right, Taylor. Lying is bad, but I wasn’t technically lying. I thought you and I could have a girl’s day since I finally had a day off.”
She perks up. “With ice cream?”
“And extra whipped cream,” I promise.
“I’ll take you,” he offers.
“You’re not a girl,” I point out slowly.
“One drink.” He stands back up. “What do I have to do, Kay? All I want is a chance to catch up on what I missed.”
“I told you not to call me Kay.”
“Mommy calls you Kay,” Taylor says.
Which is one of the reasons I hate it. When Ian used to call me Kay I didn’t mind it. When Mom started to, it ruined everything because it was out of spite. Dad started the nickname, and ever since Mom used to just start a fight between us. Anything involving her went straight to hell.
“I don’t like it.” I sigh. “And I don’t drink.” I inform him. I want to give him the hot chocolate back, but I know as soon as he leaves I’ll down it. Hot chocolate is my weakness.
“Just hot chocolate,” he offers. “Give me a chance, Kay— Kasey. I’m figuring out your likes and dislikes, it’s going to take time to remember.”
“Ian
, why? What’s the point?”
Taylor looks up at him. “Why do you wanna take my sissy out? Do you wanna marry her?”
“Taylor!” I hiss in embarrassment.
Ian smiles. “I’m not sure, Taylor. Do you think I should marry your sister?”
She nods enthusiastically.
It’s a good thing that five-year-olds don’t dictate marriage, or else I’d be married off by tomorrow.
I put my hand on the door, hoping he’ll see I’m busy. He isn’t trying to be pushy, and I’m not trying to be rude. I just have better things to do than listen to him ask me out over and over again.
Which, okay, I admit is kind of rude.
He puts his hand on the door next to mine. “Is it something I did? We used to be close, Kasey. What happened to us? Nobody could tear us apart when we were young, and now it’s like you don’t even want to see my face.”
I don’t.
Taylor tugs on his pant leg. “Do you love her?”
“Taylor, please go play somewhere else.”
She looks at me with curious eyes. “If you was friends then why are you sad?”
“It’s ‘were’ not ‘was’ in this case.” I kneel down in front of her and smile warmly. “This conversation is for adults, okay? Can you please go watch TV and let Ian and I talk?”
She sticks her bottom lip out, but nods. I kiss her forehead and wait until she’s back on the couch and consumed in the world of SpongeBob.
Ian casually leans against the doorjamb. “Can I come in, or is that off limits, too?”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek.
He nods once, like he understands. “Whatever I did to you, I’m sorry. If it’s about earlier … I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He turns to leave, but I stop him. “Wait.”
He stops.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize quietly. “You didn’t do anything, okay? It’s me. I’m going through a lot, and I don’t have time to go out and catch up. I mean, I never thought I’d ever see you again. It’s a lot, Ian.”
“How about dinner in then?” he suggests.
I gape at him. “You just won’t give up, will you?”
He smirks. “Why would I? I know what I want.”
My heart should have spiked like they did in the books I read, but I wasn’t affected by his words. They’re sweet, but they aren’t what I’m looking for.
I don’t believe in fairytales, and I don’t want an ending where I ride off in the sunset with my Prince Charming.
Ian doesn’t realize it, but he’s on the list of the top three people I don’t want to see.
“What did I do?” he asks, as if he heard my thoughts.
It’s what you didn’t do.
“Nothing,” I lie, walking into the kitchen and grabbing myself a bottle of water.
He walks in, closing the door behind him. He keeps his distance, leaning against the door with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The way he looks at me makes me feel bad for him, which is the last thing I want. Why can’t I just stay mad at him like I planned? That would make things so much easier for me.
“Don’t give me that look,” I mutter, hopping up on the counter.
His eyebrows arch. “What look?”
“You’re doing that eye thing that you did when we were kids,” I inform him gingerly. “You always got everything you wanted with those damn eyes.”
That makes him smile. “Is that a good thing?”
“For you. Not me.”
Pushing off the door, he walks over to the counter. He leans against the granite countertop, giving me the same look he did before.
“Stop,” I complain.
“I know when you’re lying, Kasey. I always know.”
I stare at him for a short minute, then direct my gaze at Taylor. She’s singing along with some cartoon theme song I’ve never heard of, bouncing where she sits on the couch. I smile at the sight of her.
I remember when I was that happy, without a care in the world.
“Kasey?” Ian says quietly.
I snap out of it. “I’m angry at you.”
He just stares at me.
I blush. “I’m angry that you left, Ian. You never called. You never e-mailed. You never visited. It was like after you moved, you just stopped caring. And then …”
Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I refuse to let them. Tears are weakness; that’s the one thing Mom told me and I believed.
I saw what hers did to her. It seemed like she got weaker with every one she shed.
He walks over to me, taking my hands in his. “What, Kasey?”
I shake my head. “Everything bad that happened started after you left. As if losing my best friend wasn’t bad enough, I lost my father and then my mother. They’re not the same people you used to know. Especially my mother. And Taylor … she’ll never have her parents.”
He squeezes my hands, causing me to meet his apologetic blue eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs softly, brushing his thumb across the back of my hands.
Taking a deep breath, I pull my hand away from his. “I think I’m just angry that I don’t have the happy parents I used to. I never really made many other friends after you left. I was …”
“Lonely,” he offers.
I gnaw the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was. When Mom had Taylor it wasn’t so bad. I was the one who took care of her all of the time, so she kept me occupied.”
“I know how that feels,” he replies. “To feel lonely, I mean.”
How can he know how it feels? “You’re famous. How can you possibly understand what it feels like when you’ve got people chasing after you all the time?”
He averts his eyes from me. “Sometimes the people you’d expect to be the happiest are actually the loneliest souls.”
What is that supposed to mean?
“I don’t understand,” I admit.
He dismisses it. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here now. I’m sorry I never tried, Kasey. I wanted to, but there were some complications.”
“Complications that lasted twelve years?” I doubt, a little more coolly than I intended.
“Kasey—”
“Don’t you dare make any excuses,” I cut him off, hopping down from the counter. “I’ve been told a billion excuses since I was ten, and I’m done hearing them. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve taken matters into my own hands since you last knew me. I’ve grown up into my own person, and you don’t know me anymore. The last thing I need is to be tainted by the bullshit you’re going to tell me. Nothing can keep a person busy for that long, Ian. Nothing.”
Frowning, he steps toward me. I hold up my hand to stop him from advancing, and it works. I want him to keep his distance, because I have no control over what I would do now.
“I’m sorry …”
I walk to the door and open it. “Don’t be sorry. Just own up to your choices, because that’s all you can do at this point. It’s time you go now.”
He doesn’t argue with me. He walks out the door and turns around. “I’m not giving up, Kase. I came back here because I knew you were the one person I could count on to fill the … emptiness that I’ve been feeling. I need my friend back.”
My heart hurts. “There’s one problem with that,” I point out, looking him straight in the eyes. “We’re not friends anymore, Ian.”
KASEY
The sound of my phone buzzing stirs me from my dreamless sleep. I tiredly reach for it, knocking down my alarm clock in the process. I groan when it collides, loudly, with the floor.
“Hello?” I murmur, burying the side of my head into the pillow.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Rosie answers.
That’s always how she greets me when she calls on my days off. It seems like the new help we hire never lasts, which means I get to pick of their shifts.
“I have Taylor, Rose.”
“You can bring her along,” she replies. “I know you’ve been working
for a week straight, but we need you. I wouldn’t ask if I thought I could handle it on my own.”
Brushing frizzy pieces of hair away from my face, I sigh.
“Plus,” she bargains, “Adam is working. You know he loves making Taylor Minnie Mouse pancakes.”
I blow out a long breath. “I can only stay for a few hours. I promised Taylor we’d have a girl’s day today.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
I mutter a good-bye and quickly get dressed. After brushing a comb through my messy hair, I decide it’s too far gone to be left down. I throw it into a ponytail, put some eyeliner on, and slip into my sneakers.
Feeling bad for waking Taylor up at seven thirty in the morning on a Saturday, I make sure the first thing she hears about are the pancakes. Adam, the chef at Birdseye, is famous for making the kids that come in special pancakes. Usually it’s Mickey or Minnie Mouse, and occasionally he’ll make other cartoon characters.
It keeps the kids happy, and it made Taylor bounce the minute her little feet hit the carpet.
As soon as we’re in the diner, Taylor runs over—purple tutu and all—to Rosie, arms wide open for a hug. Rose kisses the top of her head and rustles her hair, looking up at me with a silent thank-you in her muddy eyes.
I give her a nod and guide Taylor to the counter. Helping her on the stool, I pull out a coloring mat and crayons for her to occupy herself before clocking in.
“Morning, darling,” Adam greets from where he stands in front of the grill.
“Hey, Adam. Taylor’s looking forward to those pancakes, so you better put an extra on.”
He shoots me a wink. “I’m already ahead of you. Even added extra chocolate chips.”
I snort, tying my apron on. “Great, then I’ll get to deal with a sugared-up five-year-old. Thanks.”
He chuckles. “Mine are too old to spoil with something as simple as pancakes. I need to get my fill where I can.”
I pat his shoulder as I walk past him, going to one of the side booths to take orders.
After the first hour, Taylor gets restless. She colored two different placemats, and took a third one to start doodling on. I smile at the stick figures she draws, scribbling on what appears to be blonde hair.
The Risks We Take Page 3
