Sierra knows she doesn’t deserve a break, but I’ve done so much yelling, and none of it has worked. I’m trying a different approach this time, and she’s agreed to stay here tonight, which is progress.
I can’t keep her here unless she wants to stay. She’s nineteen, legally an adult, though she has a lot of growing up to do.
“Just wondering what you want to do for dinner,” I say.
“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” she yells.
I stalk back into the living room and collapse on the couch. I’m exhausted. Sierra showed up at one in the morning last night, crying. She’d fought with her scumbag boyfriend and had nowhere to go. Honestly, I was shocked she came to me. We had an ugly scene last week and I didn’t think I’d hear from her for weeks.
The jerk she calls her boyfriend is a total loser. I know he’s mixed up in some bad shit, and he’s pulled her into it, too. I suspect drugs are involved, but I can never get her to tell me the truth. Maybe their fight will finally be a turning point.
I’m starting to drift off when she appears, smelling fresh and looking like a kid again, without the dark makeup she usually wears these days.
“Hey,” she says, sounding younger, too.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up, rubbing my hands over my thighs, trying to get energy flowing through me. It didn’t help that Sierra showed up after my night with Kira and the solo trip I took to a bar on my way home to clear my head. I was just getting to sleep around the time she showed up. “Do you want to order pizza, or go out somewhere?”
“Pizza would be good,” she says. As kids, the two of us shared a lot of pizza. Our mom worked late, and throwing leftover pizza in the microwave was about the extent of my cooking skills.
I place the order and put on the TV. I know pushing her or lecturing her won’t do any good. Maybe if I just give her space, she’ll know she can be safe and comfortable here, and that will be enough for her to want to stay.
My place has to be a million times nicer than whatever hovel she’s been shacking up in with the loser. She’s thinner every time I see her, and she gets sick a lot from what I gather. I know she’s not taking good care of herself, and even though I can’t control Sierra, I feel like I’m letting our mom down by not taking better care of my little sister.
The pizza arrives and we dig in with little conversation. I put on a movie, followed by another, and the next thing I know it’s 11 o’clock.
“I’m going to bed,” I say, handing the remote to Sierra. “I need to go into the office for at least a few hours tomorrow. I’ll go in early and try to be back by lunch.”
“You don’t need to babysit me, Hale. I’m not a kid anymore.”
There’s a lot I could say in response to that, but I bite my tongue. “Okay, well, I’ll definitely be home before dinner, then.”
“Sounds good,” she says.
“Make yourself at home. The guest room is yours for as long as you want. I have plenty of space.”
“I know. I know. Thank you.” Her tone has a fragile sincerity that puts a lump in my throat. I worry about her. A lot. And I hate the feeling, but I can’t control it, any more than I can control her.
“Do you need anything?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’m good. Thanks.”
I tousle her hair as I go by, and then I crash for hours.
The next morning I peek into the guest room and smile to see Sierra fast asleep, her limbs sticking out in every direction. She still sleeps like a kid, too.
I put a box of cereal on the table, leave a note for her, and slip out quietly. I did some work from home yesterday, but there are things I need to take care of in the office that can’t wait.
I’m in before everyone else again, but it seems like no time at all passes before the outer office is humming with activity. I’m thinking about getting up to close my door when Kira walks in, apparently just arriving, with her jacket still on and her bag over her shoulder. Her dark hair is styled in long, loose waves today, giving me flashbacks to how she looked laid out on the conference table the other night.
“Decided to come in today, huh?” she says.
“Looks that way,” I say.
“Were you ill?”
“No. I had things I needed to take care of,” I say.
“More important than a crisis here?” she challenges.
I stare back at her. The fire in her eyes makes me want to cover the distance between us and crush her to me, but I stay seated. “Yes, in fact.”
I consider telling her about Sierra but I like seeing Kira fired up, and I don’t feel like talking about it anyway. Maybe, like Pierce, I have my own issues about keeping work separate from my personal life.
“Are you up-to-date on Washburn?” she asks.
“Is Pierce in yet?”
“I don’t know. I don’t keep tabs on him,” she huffs. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she realizes she’s put her foot in it.
“You just keep tabs on me, then, I guess?” I give her my best cocky grin. “I’m flattered.”
She glares, and I have a nearly overwhelming urge to lock the door, throw her down on my desk and make her scream my name.
For better or worse, she turns and struts her sexy ass out of my office before I act on my impulses.
18
Kira: Silent Prayers
I know I told myself I’d keep my focus on work and ignore Hale and Pierce as much as possible, but I never said it would be easy.
It’s not even 8:30 in the morning and Hale has me simultaneously both ticked off and worked up. Passing Pierce’s office on the way to my own, I glance through his open door and the mere sight of his intense features sends a rush of heat through me. I wonder if it’s possible to have my hormones removed.
I work through the morning, and keep to myself during lunch, but in the afternoon, temptation comes calling on an inside line.
“Can we meet up in about twenty minutes?” Hale asks. “About Washburn.”
“Yes, that will be fine,” I say, praying that the meeting will not be in the conference room.
“Great. My office. See you.” He clicks off. It’s likely he doesn’t want to return to the scene of the crime, either.
At the appointed time, I find both Pierce and Hale present for the meeting, Hale seated behind the desk, and Pierce in a chair in front of it. There’s a table, couch and more comfortable chairs off to the side of the big space, but I’m glad we’re meeting in the more formal setting.
“Hi, Kira. Have a seat,” Hale says. I nod and do as I’m invited, trying to ignore the energy field I feel once I get close to the both of them together. It’s like some sort of invisible vortex. Like the Bermuda Triangle.
“What’s up?” I ask, determined to focus on business.
Hale shares updates from the client, Pierce provides internal updates, and then we go over the few final details that need to be addressed for the revised delivery plan. Despite Hale’s absence yesterday, things are moving along nicely and the crisis appears to be averted.
“Your father called in today,” Hale says to me as our discussion winds down.
“Is that right?” Funny, my father hasn’t been in touch with me since I agreed to work here.
“We talked about Washburn, of course, and then he asked how you were doing here at Walker Industries.” Hale seems to delight at having been asked to give my father a progress report. He pauses dramatically, waiting for me to take the bait, and because I’m curious, I do.
“And what did you tell him?”
Hale gets up and walks around to stand next to my chair. “I told him you were making things hard — really, really hard — around here for Pierce and me.” His crotch is right at my eye level, and he cups his hand over his fly to emphasize his meaning.
I glance over at Pierce who doesn’t look amused. The joking innuendo was different a few days ago. Now that we've been together — the three of us — his words just sound crude and rude.
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p; He continues. “But I also told him you were a very cooperative coworker, who handled two projects at once with ease and great enthusiasm …”
“You’re being a pig!” I interrupt.
“Hale —” Pierce says, starting to protest.
Hale is laughing as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his vibrating cellphone. When he sees the screen, his face sobers. “Hang on a minute. Sorry,” he says, holding his hand up to silence us. He turns toward his window and walks a few steps away as he takes the call.
“I think we’re done here,” I tell Pierce as I get up.
“He was just joking around.” Pierce’s tone is sympathetic to my anger, but it doesn’t help.
“Is she going to be okay?” Hale says into the phone. His voice has taken on a different tone altogether. There’s no humor in it, but rather something bordering on panic.
Both Pierce and I turn toward Hale and stare at his back as we eavesdrop on the rest of the one-sided conversation. “Okay … okay. … no … which one? … I'll be there right away.”
When the call is over, Hale turns to us, looking dazed. “I need to leave,” he says, glancing at his desk without focusing before he turns and heads toward the door.
“Wait, what's going on?” Pierce asks, getting up to follow Hale.
“It’s my sister. She’s at the hospital.”
“I’ll drive you,” Pierce says.
“I’m coming too,” I say, rushing to catch up. The desperate look on Hale’s face hit me like a punch in the gut. I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no way I’m not going with him.
Pierce questions Hale about which hospital we’re going to, but he doesn’t ask for any details about his sister or about what happened. Hale looks wrecked by whatever news he’s been told, so I follow Pierce’s example and stay quiet during our ride.
Thankfully, traffic is light and it takes less than ten minutes to reach Central Hospital. Pierce drops Hale at the entrance to the emergency room. I slip out and follow Hale inside while Pierce parks the car.
“Sierra Harris,” Hale says at the front desk. “Where is she?”
I stand to his side and put a hand on his back and another on his arm, not wanting to be in the way, but needing to let him know that he’s not alone.
The man at the desk consults the computer and then says, “Yes, who’s asking?”
“I’m her brother. Hale Harris.”
The man nods. “I can take you back.”
“I’ll be here if you need me,” I tell Hale. He doesn’t look my way, but he nods once as he closely follows the receptionist through the doors to the patient area.
A few minutes later, Pierce appears and sits down in the chair next to me. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“Hale went back,” I say, gesturing in the general direction. “I don’t know anything. Do you know anything about his sister?”
Pierce’s face is grim. “A little.” He pauses and I can tell from his face that whatever he knows isn’t good. “Hale’s sister is young; almost ten years younger than him. Nineteen, I think. Their mother died a year ago, and …” He pauses, trying to remember something. “His sister —”
“Sierra,” I say, interrupting. “I heard him ask for Sierra.”
“Right. Sierra’s been in a lot of trouble for a while now. Bad crowd, minor crimes, and —” He pauses again and then continues in a lower tone so no one around us can hear. “From what he’s said, I suspect drug problems.”
I frown and make a sympathetic sound.
“I get the impression Hale hasn’t wanted to admit to himself what’s been going on with her.”
I shake my head at the unfortunate situation. “What about their father?” I ask.
“They had different fathers, and neither of them are in the picture. With Hale being so much older than his sister, I think he feels like her caretaker.”
My brain puts something together then, and I get a sick feeling in my stomach. “Is this … is this why he missed work yesterday?”
Pierce nods. “And last week. I don’t know exactly what’s been going on lately, but he told me he was having problems with her.”
God, I’m such a self-centered idiot. I can’t believe I thought he was skipping work to avoid seeing me. I shake my head some more.
“You okay?” Pierce says, laying his hand on my arm.
“I’m fine,” I say, feeling irritated at myself. I remember Hale’s dazed expression after the phone call and send silent prayers out to whoever’s listening that his sister will be okay.
19
Pierce: I Want Things to Be Okay
Kira is trembling. It's strange to see her like this; she's always so cool and collected. And Hale — I've never seen him so shaken.
I put my arm around Kira and pull her close. She folds into me easily and seems to relax instantly. “Want some coffee?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Maybe later.”
“I imagine we're going to be here quite a while. I called Lucy and told her what's going on. She'll call me if anything comes up.”
“Okay.”
“It's nearly five anyway,” I say, glancing at my watch.
Kira cranes her neck to look at my watch and then she settles back even closer against me, her head cradled on my chest.
The scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her body are a potent combination. I could easily forget we're in a sterile and uncomfortable hospital waiting room.
I allow my senses a few quiet moments to enjoy her nearness before I say, “I'm sorry about how Hale treated you this afternoon.”
I know I'm not responsible for Hale’s actions, but there's this connection between us now that makes me feel like I am. Like I want things to be okay between the three of us.
“It's all right,” she says. “It doesn't matter.”
“It bothered you,” I say.
She shrugs.
“Maybe it's his problems with his sister that had him behaving like that.”
She's silent for a long minute and then says, “It was a mistake, what we did.”
I was afraid she felt that way. Going into it, I thought it would be a mistake, but I don't regret it all. “I disagree,” I say.
She shifts against me to look up at my face for a moment before settling back into position. I take the opportunity to wrap my arm around her more tightly.
“I would like to start over and do things in the proper order. I'd like to take you to dinner,” I say.
Kira doesn't respond but she remains snug against me. This isn't the time or place to be pushing for a date, so I let it be.
Time passes. People come and go but the ER isn't too busy. There's no sign of Hale. I wouldn't expect anything yet unless the news was really bad, so I take his absence as a positive sign.
“Ready for coffee or maybe some food?” I ask Kira when she shifts in her seat.
“I'm not hungry, but coffee sounds good.”
“There's a coffee counter in the main lobby. That’ll be better than that stuff from the machine.” From where we sit, we can see vending machines through a doorway. “What would you like?”
“Anything is fine,” Kira says. “With cream and sugar, please.”
I nod and give her a small smile before I exit to the hallway that connects the emergency entrance with the rest of the hospital.
When I return with our drinks, Kira's scrolling on her phone. She tucks it away when I approach.
“Thank you,” she says, taking a cup from me.
“No problem.”
After a tentative sip, and then a longer draw on her drink, Kira turns to face me. “Do you have any siblings?”
I nod. “Two sisters, one older, one younger. We’re all close in age, though.”
“Do you see them a lot?”
“Usually once a month or so. The older one is married and just had a baby. The younger one works here in the city.”
“Aww, you’re an uncle,” Kira says, her eyes going soft.
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I smile. “I am.” I didn’t realize how it would feel to be an uncle, but it’s pretty amazing. Little Ella smiled at me for the first time when I last saw her, and I’d swear she even giggled when I tickled her tiny feet.
“How about you?” I ask. “Any brothers or sisters?”
She shakes her head. “Just me.”
“So no more Walkers will be coming to join the company?” I say, keeping my tone light.
Kira shrugs and smiles. “Depends on who my father marries next.”
I give her a rueful smile. “Are you close with your mother?”
Her smile disappears. “My mom died when I was young.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugs again. “I was raised by a couple of really good nannies.”
I start to ask another question when I notice Hale approaching. Kira spots him too, and jumps up to meet him. “What’s going on? How’s your sister?” she asks.
He puts an arm on Kira’s shoulder and walks with her to where I’m standing. When Hale sits, the two of us take our seats and lean in to hear his report.
“She overdosed,” he says. He both looks and sounds like he’s aged twenty years in the past couple of hours. Kira and I stay quiet, waiting for him to continue.
“Heroin.” Hale pauses and Kira reaches over and puts a hand on his knee to comfort him. “Luckily, someone called the paramedics and they got to her in time. They’ll be monitoring her overnight.”
“Has this … happened before?” Kira asks.
He shakes his head. “Sierra was involved in a car accident her senior year, and she needed pain meds for a while. I learned tonight that she never stopped taking them and her addiction gradually evolved into this. She says this was her first time shooting up, but who knows.” He puts his head in his hands. Kira rubs his knee and I lay a hand on his back.
His face is red when he looks up, and his voice breaks. “How could I have let this happen?”
“It’s not your fault,” I say firmly, sure that it’s true, but also understanding how he could feel responsible.
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