by Rica Grayson
The Family You Choose
The Denvers’ house was bustling with energy.
I used to feel awkward stepping into their home. It was huge—something I wasn't accustomed to.
There was a quiet energy in the house. Since her grandparents lived here too, everyone was always busy. They were usually awake past midnight, watching TV or playing Monopoly. It filled their home with warmth, the kind that seeped into your bones from the laughter you hear, to the casual conversations, to the smell of cooking.
Eva enveloped me in a tight hug. As I walked in, Eva’s dad, Anthony, was having tea in the living room.
“Sierra,” he welcomed me. “How are—?”
One look at my face, and he stopped, his expression shifting to confusion. “Never mind,” he mumbled.
I can imagine what my face must’ve looked like. A mess, probably. I didn’t bother removing my make-up before I’d left, just wanting to hurry and leave.
Liam, her cousin, was watching a tennis game on TV. He dropped by often. A couple of years older, he was like the older brother I never had.
“Hi,” Liam said. His grin dropped almost immediately when he saw me. “What the hell happened to you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Keep the compliments coming.”
He looked sheepish. “Yeah, well… I didn’t expect to see you like this. So, what happened?”
Eva looked at me in silent question. I shrugged.
“Luke didn’t make it to their date,” Eva explained.
“Why not?”
“Something came up, apparently,” Eva said dryly.
“He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d just not come to a date.” He paused, thoughtful. “How long did you wait?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know… Forty minutes?”
Talking about it was making me depressed.
He whistled. “He didn’t call until then?”
When I shook my head once, his eyes softened.
“Could be because of his sister.”
“His sister? “ I frowned. “Clarisse?”
“No, the one they adopted. She got into a car accident some months back.”
Now I remembered.
They adopted a girl before they separated. “He didn’t say anything about her.”
He sighed. “I don’t imagine he would.” Ouch. “Want to watch the new Ring movie?”
I bounced down in the seat, the new discovery still in my mind.
But at the very least, I was with friends. Silver lining and all that.
I answered my phone as soon as the credits were rolling.
“Hello?”
And I realized I didn’t check the caller.
There was a pause. “Sierra?”
Eva and Liam were fighting about the worst horror movies of all time. Their voices faded in the background.
“Luke,” I acknowledged.
“You’re not home,” he said. It sounded like a question. “I knocked and you didn’t answer. Pat said you left.”
“No, I’m not home,” I admitted. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Need me to pick you up? I can order in and we can talk.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Here goes.
“Luke, I think—I think I’ll stay here tonight.”
There was a pause.
“Are you mad about tonight? No, don’t answer that." His disappointment was almost tangible. “Sierra, I was busy, I had to—”
He stopped as if catching himself.
It was precisely because he did that my temper flared. “You had to what, Luke?”
He didn’t reply.
And because he didn’t give me that, I got my answer.
“Do me a favor—next time you can’t come, don’t set a date.”
“And then—and then he said we’ll talk later.”
My lips trembled.
I shoved the spoon in my mouth.
Mmm. Salted caramel.
Eva listened patiently, nodding her head. “He’s hiding something,” she mused.
“No shit. I hate all the secrecy.”
I trusted him. But trust went both ways.
I scooped more ice cream. And in the middle of it, I found myself saying, “I think I’m in love with him.”
I don’t know what made me say it, but saying it out loud felt right.
I’d felt it all along. The feeling was just foreign and new. I don’t even remember when it happened. It grew, slowly but steadily.
“I know,” she said, understanding softening her expression.
I blinked.
“You do?”
“It’s hard not to see that. You want someone who challenges you, someone who’s worked to earn your trust.”
She was right. That was why it never really worked with anyone before.
But Luke—he did that, and when he held me, I felt like we had something more.
“What use is someone who can challenge me, when he doesn’t even trust me?”
“Remember in high school, when someone was teasing me about being blonde and you came and pulled her hair?” Her eyes lit up at the memory.
I nodded, snickering. She’d deserved it.
“You don’t realize it, but by being blunt and straightforward, you inspire others and make them want to do the same.”
I snorted. “I doubt I inspired her by pulling her hair.”
“But you inspired me. You were brutally honest and brave, and you were real. And I thought, one day, I want to be someone like you.”
I shuddered.
Eva was… Kind. Generous. Funny. She wanted to help nearly everyone. I was… not. Many people would say our friendship wasn’t something they expected because we were different. But we weren’t, really. Not in the ways that mattered.
I don’t know what she saw in my face, but she laughed.
“For a list of role models, you choose me?” I asked her, incredulous.
This was the second time someone told me I was strong, like I could handle anything life threw at me. This time, I found I couldn’t stop the words that were coming out.
“I’m not brave,” I declared. “If I was brave… If I was brave… I wouldn’t have moped for years that my own parents didn’t want me.”
I went through that rebellious phase. Even my uncle didn’t know what to do with me at first.
“Sierra—”
Her tone was almost chiding, but I went on.
“If I was brave, I would’ve told Luke that dinner made me hope for something more than I could have. If I was brave…” My throat started to tighten. “Maybe every time my parents talk to me, I wouldn’t have some sort of emotional breakdown. Most days I feel like I’m trying to do better, and that better being a standard I set myself. And how do I compete with that?
“Brave is putting on a smile even when you don’t feel like it,” I said, leveling her a gaze. “It’s being constantly like a role model, a sponge for people to unload their problems on you. And it’s hiding the fact that you’re dealing with things, while going through your day like you don’t miss your brother.”
She stilled. “How did you know?”
Around a month ago, I saw her going through the phonebook, listing some numbers. Her conversations were done in a low voice, nearly hushed. Her brother had been involved in some drug dealings and disappeared. I suspected she was still looking for him, but it was never really something I confirmed.
“It’s hard not to. Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “I will,” she said quietly. “But not right now.”
“Okay. I’m right here,” I reminded her, leaning my head on her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she turned to look at me.
“I think you need to talk to him,” she continued gently. “I’ve seen him get you into knots the past couple of weeks. No,” she told me, when I tried to protest. “I’ve seen how you are. It bothered you that he just stopped all contact. Give him a chance,” she added gen
tly. “You don’t need to get together with him. Just hear him out.”
Going here was a bad idea.
I went to Abe’s for coffee and found Luke seated at the front. He was talking to Abe and seemed to be deep in conversation.
I just planned to drop by and grab some coffee and then leave, so I didn’t think I’d see him.
I turned around to go, but not before Abe spotted me.
“Sierra,” he called out, giving me a welcoming smile. “The usual?”
“Um, it’s okay, I was just—”
But he wouldn’t have any of it.
I was cursing myself for even stepping inside.
I heard the jingle of the chimes and saw Paul walk in. I hadn’t seen him since Sherry’s bachelorette party.
“Oh, hi Sierra,” he said, his smile polite, and maybe a little stiff.
I didn’t blame him. His black eye was now a distinct purplish color. Then his eyes settled on Luke, and his smile wiped off almost instantly. He stammered, “I—I think I heard Goodies’ had an anniversary special. See you around.” He backed away slowly as he talked to me.
“Right,” I replied dryly.
He was out the door in ten seconds flat.
Luke sat there calmly, still not saying anything, drinking his coffee.
“Go a little easy on the guy. He’s still sporting a black eye,” I said, breaking the silence.
He scowled. “I was just sitting here. And are you defending him?”
“You punched him,” I pointed out.
“I was keeping his hands away from you, is all.”
“Right,” I muttered, unconvinced.
“Are you coming home tonight?” he asked. I sensed the hesitance in the question.
I didn’t answer.
“About last night—let me make it up to you,” he said smoothly. “Maybe we can go—”
“No,” I said softly. I had to harden my heart against him.
“No?”
“I think you’re mistaken, Luke. You must have the impression that I do this thing often. I don’t.”
“I called you,” he said. “I told you I couldn’t make it.”
I pasted a smile on my face. Didn’t they say it annoyed your enemies? “I’m touched you remembered to call.”
He closed his eyes, as if steeling himself from my reply. “I wanted to call you earlier, but I had trouble getting a signal.”
I didn’t think he was making it up. But the secrets were driving me crazy.
“I don’t even know you, Luke.”
His expression turned hard. “You know me better than anyone.”
“Where were you last night?” I asked him, looking him straight in the eye.
His lips were tightly pressed together, like he was barely holding it together.
Ugh.
Getting answers from him was like pulling teeth.
As if on cue, Abe came back with my coffee.
I paid for it and turned to leave, but a hand settled on my wrist. “Stay. I…” He looked like he was finding the right words. The struggle confused me as much as it hurt. “It’s quiet next door, sweetheart. I can’t—I can't fucking stand it.”
I had hoped. And it was one I didn’t know burned brightly, until it was crushed.
“I waited for you,” I said, my voice brittle. “And it sucks, when someone who’d come to matter to you stops giving a shit.”
The feeling wasn’t foreign to me. I should’ve been used to it.
As I turned to make my way out, I realized people were watching us. They quickly shifted their attention away.
Some things never changed.
I climbed upstairs slowly as I went back to my apartment, sipping my coffee.
I couldn’t work when I was pissed. Maybe I’d do some mind-numbingly boring chores to take Luke off my mind.
I saw Pat’s head out her door.
“You okay, Sierra?” Pat asked with a frown. “You look a little down today. I worry about you all alone.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, mustering a small smile. She didn’t look convinced.
“You can come over any time for tea, anytime. I’m available to talk.”
“Thanks, Pat.”
The offer was sweet.
I’d drop off some pasta-bake later, as I remembered her mention she liked them at a Christmas event once.
I had other people who were willing to listen.
I didn’t need him.
“I got some dirt on the bitch," Rona told me. She wasn't only a kickass blogger, she always seemed to know a little bit about everyone.
And when she started digging, she almost always found something.
She decided that her focus was on Luke’s aunt.
I didn't ask her where get her info from. I was almost scared to ask.
“Okay, spill." I jogged down the stairs, carrying my laundry basket.
“About his aunt… She can't stand Luke's mom. Rumor has it she was vocal about how she opposed their marriage since she claimed that she was only using Abe."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course. Typical close-minded—”
I stopped and stared at the sight in front of me. I took a few steps backwards, looking at the other clothesline. Then I turned around and checked behind me.
No way.
"Shit. I can't believe this." I accidentally crumpled the note. I also may have accidentally stomped my foot on it.
“What?” she sounded confused.
“I’m going to kill him. He stole my clothes."
Chapter Eighteen
Fallen
My laundry was missing.
On the clothes line, I found a note clipped where my clothes were visibly not.
I pulled it from the line. It read:
Come see me.
Luke
Well, I really would see him. Taking someone else’s clothes was just playing dirty.
If he wanted to talk to me, he may as well have told me to my face.
"How considerate. He left me a note," I told her dryly. "I'll call you later."
"Good luck," she said easily, masking a laugh with a cough before she ended the call.
I rushed back upstairs.
I knocked on his door. Briefly, I wondered if he was at home. Maybe I’d call him…
And then, what? Demand my clothes? He’d have to be home to give them to me anyway.
I was about to give up and turn back, when the door opened. He looked like he just roused from a nap, his hair tousled.
“Sierra?” Perplexed, he asked, “Something wrong?”
I stood up straighter, my chin a little higher. “I need my clothes back.”
He blinked. Then he gave me a slow once over. My body heated, his gaze almost like a physical touch.
His eyes lit up with amusement. “You don’t look naked, sweetheart. Although yours aren’t exactly leaving anything to the imagination.”
This. Guy.
I gritted my teeth. “Not these clothes, Luke, the ones you took,” I pointed out.
He frowned. “I didn’t take any clothes.”
“Nice try. What about your little note?”
His brow raised up in question. “What note?”
Starting to get frustrated, I strode past him.
He put his arm out in a welcome gesture, not even attempting to stop me.
“Where are they?”
I flipped up the cushions on his couch, then looked underneath his table. When I got back up, I accidentally bumped him as I moved backwards. His arms shot out, supporting me.
“Oh. Sorry. Just checking.”
“No problem.” His voice was warm. His touch on my arm still lingered.
I stood up straight and moved away, not allowing my resolve to weaken.
“You were wrong, you know,” he suddenly said.
I turned to look at him, a questioning glance.
“You matter to me,” he declared. And it took me by surprise.
I had to keep moving, anywhere, as lon
g as it was away from him.
I slid his balcony door open and scanned the area.
No clothes.
I attempted to pull it shut, but it wouldn’t budge. It seemed to be stuck. In my head, I was cursing the stupid sliding door. He put a hand above mine and slid it shut easily.
“Sweetheart, stop for a minute.”
But I couldn’t look at him.
Because if I mattered to him, he would’ve trusted me too.
I walked over to his room, then bent down to check under his bed.
I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was tired of the evasion, and I felt the way to bring him out of it was to purposely provoke him.
We were going in circles, and I wanted out.
“Why won’t you tell me about last night?”
There it was again. The familiar way he shut down when I brought it up. His body tensed as he said, “I’m handling it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” he said firmly, indicating he was done with the discussion. My heart felt like it was being split open.
Because nothing quite hurt like it did when you were cast aside.
When you trusted someone, you gave them a piece of your heart. I’d handed him mine on a silver platter.
“Bullshit!”
He’d seen me vulnerable, he’d lent me a shoulder when I needed it, but he wouldn’t let me do the same? I never gave him permission to do all those things for me, but he did, and he did them unapologetically. And he had to go and make me fall for him.
My fists curled on his shirt. “You asked me once if I trusted you. That was hard for me to do. But I let go, and I did it for you. You were there with me during my lowest, and I can’t comfort you in yours?”
The tension was palpable. I saw the moment his control lapsed, and I took an involuntary step back.
“Sierra, I don’t know how,” he snapped, his voice raised. He ran a hand down on his face. “Fuck.”
It was as if something in him broke loose.
He pulled away from me and began to pace.
My heart squeezed in my chest.
I felt like the world's biggest idiot for pushing myself on him. He didn’t need me here anyway.
I let the pain remind me that I was wrong on so many counts.
