The Remaining Sister

by Leanne Davis

  Most of the reason why Chet never made a move on Chloe before was because of Ryder. That, and she was his employer. As well as his mother’s. That thought rattled around in his head, and a wave of anxiety popped up, but he chose to ignore it. This didn’t, in any way, jeopardize his mother’s or his job. He wanted to believe that. Chloe wouldn’t dare fire either one of them, but if she did, he’d be forced to formally oppose it.

  Scooting around, he began fidgeting under her weight while thinking that today, Chloe had done just that. She allowed her personal vendetta and resentment toward a perfectly competent employee to skewer her judgment. In fact, she stood in the café, mercilessly yelling at Tara before firing her. She was lashing out in ways that were unfair. Even worse, they were unethical. But no. Chet wasn’t like Tara. He wasn’t timid and he certainly would have never let anything he did affect his mother’s job security.

  Chet was clinging to the belief that he read Chloe’s personality accurately. All this volatility was the culmination of Chloe’s grief about her sister and knowing that Ryder was moving on from her, essentially replacing her and her sister with Tara. So maybe it wasn’t exactly sexual interest in Ryder, but Chloe still expected and valued being the number one woman in his and Wyatt’s lives. So in an indirect way, Tara unwittingly replaced both the Carrington sisters.

  How long was Chloe straddling Chet’s lap in the driver’s seat of his car while huddling against him? He didn’t know. A pretty long while though. He glanced down and assumed she cried herself to sleep. Exhausted after the orgasm she had and her discomfort about being with him, and of course, her ceaseless companion, grief, he was glad to see her sleeping.

  The sun dropped below the horizon. Chet started to get antsy and his left leg went numb. He tried to delay any movement, knowing what little peace she had received. Once she was awake, she’d most likely act weird again. But he started to grow increasingly uncomfortable and fidgeting became inevitable. He gently nudged her, jiggling his knee to bump her bottom in a tender wake-up signal. Startled, her eyelids fluttered open and Chloe pulled her head off his chest so he could see her face, which was extraordinary. Her clear, flawless, dark skin shone with the hint of a blush on the ridge of her pronounced cheek bones. Chocolate eyes, far richer than her skin color and naturally thick lashes stared up at him, but she was unable to focus. She hadn’t worn a stitch of makeup since her sister’s body was found. That was unusual for her. She normally was dressed to the nines: from her nails, to her outfits, and down to the last details of her purse and matching shoes. Now? She failed to glance down and see what she wore and she also seemed to be neglecting general hygiene.

  “We should go.”

  She nodded, her eyebrows lowering and rising as she glanced outside. “Did I fall asleep?”

  “Yeah.”

  Looking downwards, she saw that all their clothes were still intact. She blushed furiously. “How long?”

  “An hour, maybe two.”

  She frowned. “How could you stand it?” She clumsily maneuvered herself back into the passenger seat.

  He buzzed the seat forward several clicks, and started the car. “You don’t sleep enough. It’s okay.”

  “I sleep way too much,” she mumbled, staring out.

  “You sleep only when you’re jacked up on pills.”

  She whipped around. “How do you know that? How do you know anything at all about me? I just don’t understand. Until today, you’ve never once spoken to me at work. And today, there you were! Ordering me in front of everyone and telling me what to do about Tara.”

  He glanced her way before turning to look over his shoulder and pull out into traffic. “Only because you were wrong. I’d have spoken up and said something before, if I thought you were wrong before. It wasn’t an issue before today.”

  He shifted the car into gear as she clicked on her seatbelt. “So you’re not painfully shy?”

  “I’m not shy at all.”

  She shook her head. “Then, what are you?”

  He could tell her the name for it, but it would freak her out. It was an annoying damn name stigmatized by all the negative stereotypes attached to it. It wasn’t something he understood, or why it needed to have a name or be discussed. He felt it was simply his personality. Not a big deal. But when he was in middle school, one teacher and the school psychologist agreed that it was something else, and low and behold, he had a diagnosis. It meant little to him then, just as it did now and had no effect on his life. He just was who he was. He wasn’t what he was, as the label suggested. But it was also the last thing he’d mention to anyone, especially a woman he liked, which was how he felt toward Chloe.

  “I speak when it makes sense.”

  “So now it makes sense for you to speak to me?”

  He shrugged, glancing right and left before accelerating onto the highway. “Yes.”

  She leaned forward with a huff, crossing her arms under her breasts. “Well, it doesn’t make any sense to me. At all. You are the hardest person I’ve ever had to deal with.”

  He laughed. “Ever? That could be a big number.”

  She scowled at him and stared out the window, falling quiet as he pulled into her driveway. She faced forward. “They want me to go in and discuss my sister.”

  “Who does?”

  “The police. The detective investigating Ebony’s murder wants my parents and me to go in and talk about her.”

  “You got that call today?”

  “This morning.”

  “Well, that’s why you went after Tara.”

  “Maybe,” she conceded.

  “No maybes about it, Chloe. That’s what you do. You don’t get mad at the person you actually should be mad at, but deflect your anger towards something or someone else less dangerous.”

  “What? What would you know about that?”

  “A few things.”

  She fidgeted around at his accurate assessment. “I don’t know why you pick up on stuff like that about me.”

  He smiled as if it were obvious. “Anyway, when do they want you?”

  “Tomorrow. Just me by myself.”

  “I’ll take you there.”

  Her eyebrow lifted as she glanced his way. “You have to work.”

  “My boss will excuse me.” He smirked before his tone grew serious as he added, “You can’t go alone. Ryder isn’t available anymore, especially tomorrow and neither are your parents.”

  “What?” She blew out a long breath and it caught a wayward curl, sticking it up away from her head. “What are we…? I mean, what do we do about that?”

  “About what? Me sleeping with the boss?”

  She cringed. “Yeah. I didn’t plan this out. It sounds so sordid.”

  “I didn’t think it would ever be a problem so I didn’t either.”

  She licked her lips. “Are we?”

  “Are we what?”

  “Sleeping together?”

  “I didn’t just shake your hand.” She gasped and blushed at his crude statement. He continued, “Yeah, I guess so. At least, we seem to be.”

  She burned up in a blush. Having turned thirty this year, back in June, he would think she should have long ago gotten over any embarrassment with sex. To Chet, sex was just sex. An act that felt good together and temporarily alleviated emotional pain, while also distracting her from it. So why not sleep together?

  “I didn’t know you wanted to, Chet. I don’t know what to think about that.”

  “Try thinking a little less. It won’t help you right now to concentrate on anything. Do you want a ride tomorrow morning or not? You don’t have a car, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Okay. But at work, when I come back, will you just please don’t tell your mom?”

  He held back an outright laugh, but nodded. “I’m not in the habit of telling my mother about my sex life. And I’d appreciate the same.”

  “No. I won’t tell anyone,” she claimed, so quickly that he was slightly offended. But he knew no
t to worry over it. She didn’t want this to happen. So it wasn’t like she was anxious to go out and tell everyone. He was younger and employed by her. His job title wasn’t impressive. He didn’t fit the image of what she wanted in a boyfriend, or a date or even a man to screw. He knew that, even without her saying it. He doubted there was ever a time when Chloe only wanted a man to have sex with. Her reservations about him might have been partly because his hair was dyed weird, and he was pierced and all tatted up. He believed she wouldn’t have pictured anyone like him for herself.

  “Then I trust my mother has nothing to do with this and she won’t, no matter what,” he replied.

  She nodded. “Of course not. She’s my best employee, actually.” Chloe winced. “That sounded so pretentious. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.” She threw her hands up in despair.

  His mouth tilted up to the side and he turned to face her. Leaning forward, he gently took her hand in his and touched his lips on hers. She resisted at first but eventually released her shoulders and leaned into him instead of holding herself tightly away. He lifted his mouth off hers and her eyes widened. She was staring up at him with so much interest, it bordered on fear. Their faces were right up close as he said, “Don’t involve my mother in anything between us. That means, don’t go all postal on her like you did with Tara. Whatever else you need to do about this is up to you. I don’t care. That’s my only concern with us fucking.”

  She winced at the raging blush she felt climbing up her face and neck. “I don’t talk like that.”

  “Like what?” He jerked back in surprise, then frowned. “You mean, saying fuck?” His lips quirked up and pressed together tightly as he tried to keep from outright laughing at her prissiness. He could see her anxiety when it blossomed all over her face.

  “Yes. Exactly. Not in relation to… to myself. And you’re not planning to go around talking to your friends or your peers or whoever you hang around, and say that about me, are you?” Panic glistened in her eyes. “Please don’t,” she added so softly, she sounded scared.

  He touched her cheek with his hand, cupping it. Without laughing this time, he realized she was seriously stressing and couldn’t take much more. “I won’t. I promise. I wouldn’t anyway, but especially knowing how important it is to you. What do you prefer to call it then?”

  “What?” She tilted her head with obvious confusion.

  “Fu—sex? What do you like to call it?”

  “Sex. Sleeping with someone. Doing it. Making love. Those are about all the terms I like to use.”

  “You’re shy when it comes to talking about it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe just discreet. Yes. Honestly, I told you I’ve never done anything like this.”

  “So, how do you usually do it?” He didn’t see what was so different about what they did to whatever she usually did. “You into kinky sex or something? I mean, I’m game…”

  She finally smiled and it was not faked or only a half-smile. Not a forced smile in courteous response to someone else, but a real, honest-to-God, teeth-flashing smile. It set off the dimple on her right side and crinkled all the way up into her eyes. It nearly broke his heart when he realized how seldom he’d seen that smile. “No. Not even close. Never. You’ll have to go somewhere else for that. I meant, I’ve only slept with the men I’m in an actual relationship with.”

  He squinted at her. “Do you wait until the third date or something?”

  “No. Several more than that. I’m not easy. I guess I want you to know that.”

  He frowned. “Where’s the fun in that?” he muttered while nodding. “What do you want me to say?”

  “That you know I’m not.”

  “Okay, I know you’re not. You just told me.”

  She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I want you to know this is unprecedented for me. I don’t do things like this.”

  “So…” he sighed. “So you’re telling me you’re ashamed of it. Of us fu—of us having sex?”

  “I’m just confused by it.”

  “Okay. So you want to stop?”

  “I believe I did. And then—”

  “Then I—”

  “You don’t have to explain everything.”

  He shut his mouth. She was really touchy. “Okay, so here we are. Not explaining what we do. But we’re doing something. Will you at least acknowledge that?”

  “Yes,” she answered, sighing at the word. “You are way too cut-and-dried. Lord, aren’t you confused over this? Considering our jobs and your mother—”

  “I thought we just cleared that up. You agreed to leave her out of anything to do with me, right? And yeah, I’ve been told that before, that I’m too blunt.”

  “For someone who never talks.”

  “I always talk. You just didn’t listen before.”

  “You didn’t talk to me, Chet.” Chloe turned in her seat, her voice rising. “You didn’t talk to me. And then you suddenly show up and… and start kissing me and then…”

  “So, all I’m hearing is you need something more from me. What is it?”

  She shook her head, dropping her gaze. Pressing the heels of her palms into each eye, she said, “I don’t know what I need. I don’t know who I am from one hour to the next. First, I’m at home sleeping and then, the next thing I know, I’m standing in a crowd where everyone hates me and I’m screaming at a woman who is cowering from me. I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “Do you want to be alone?”

  “Never. But I don’t know how to be with anyone either. I just swallow those pills you mentioned like they’re candy.”

  “You shouldn’t do that.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Funny, what I should and shouldn’t do seem so far away to me now. Like it was important a few weeks ago and now it seems so trite and stupid and small.”

  “Can I come in, Chloe?”

  She nodded and got out of the car. She was shaky as she tried to unlock the front door to her house.

  “I’ll have to get you tomorrow anyway. Using your car, obviously.”

  She went inside first and he followed. The house was so gloomy. Nothing was open. It smelled musty and dusty. She shook her head. “Sorry about the mess. I haven’t done anything in it… for a few days… maybe weeks.”

  He shrugged it off as if he didn’t care, but whatever. He stepped forward and took her hand as he pulled her into her bedroom. Miscellaneous clothes and other items lay on the floor. He had to step over them to reach the bed. He brought her to it and she sighed with relief as she lay down on it. He tucked himself in behind her, circling his arms around her waist and clasping her hands against the mattress. He pulled her hips back and cradled her in his crotch as his knees lined up behind hers. “No pills tonight,” he muttered softly.

  Nodding with a sigh, her exhaustion was palpable. After several minutes of quiet, she fell asleep in his arms. She hadn’t eaten anything. She must have eaten something before though as there were plenty of food wrappers and cracker boxes thrown off the side of the bed. She wasn’t kidding; it was a mess. After she seemed solidly zonked out, he got up and started gathering all the discarded items off the floor. He filled a trash bag and took it out to her garbage, which was also overflowing with trash. Dragging the garbage and recycling bins out towards the curb, he glanced up and down the road, seeing no one else had their bins out, but the trash people had to show up eventually.

  Inside again, he gathered her clothing together. Underwear, socks, pants and shirts were tossed into the washing machine. He dumped them in together and started the washing machine. The kitchen held the same type of disaster. He started putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and ended up hand-washing many others. When he finished the kitchen, the load in the washing machine was ready to go into the dryer. He cleaned off the counters, scrubbing the dried-on spills and using disinfectant to sterilize them.

  None of it was all that new for Chet. It’s what he spent most of his time at work doing anyway. At least he felt us
eful. She needed the help. And his caring. Under normal circumstances, Chet assumed Chloe’s mother would have been doing this for her. Now? No one seemed to be very close to Chloe, except for Ryder who was busy with his own life and his own drama. When the dishes were ready to put away, and the clothes were dry enough to fold and hang, he took care of those chores too. Guessing the proper locations for the clean laundry and the dishes, he moved about while she didn’t even stir. He eyed her room through the gloomy interior.

  The sky was dark by then, and he waited for Chloe to wake. Nothing. He walked into the kitchen. His growing hunger made him desperate. She had nothing to eat but a few boxes of noodles and some pretty gnarly-looking perishables. He prepared some rice and used the last of the edible vegetables while adding some soy sauce and chicken that he thawed after finding it in the freezer. When it was ready, he ate some of it and put the rest in Tupperware, which he placed with a fork next to her bedside. Hopefully, she’d notice it before too long. He glanced at her, but she was still sound asleep. He wondered if she took another sleeping pill, but she couldn’t have since he’d been with her the entire night. There was no way she could have snuck one in around him. He leaned down, kissed her forehead and ran his hand through the puffs of black hair. Soft, yet in a wild state of disarray, her unkempt hair only emphasized her mental state of being.

  Chet wondered what he should do with regard to being with her. Her place had been a total mess, so he knew he could clean it. He didn’t really know how to provide emotional comfort, and this just seemed like the best chance he had of providing some comfort.

  Leaving, he locked the door behind him and went home.

  ****

  Chloe awoke with a start. She was sitting halfway up in the bed out of fright. Where was she? She sighed. Home. In bed. Ebony was dead. Murdered. The same thing happened every morning. She’d wake up feeling fine, almost normal. And then reality would crash down and bite her, ravaging her before it spat her out. She flopped back down and glanced at the clock. Three a.m. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. She blinked when the object beside the clock caught her attention. It was food. Food with a fork on the top of a sealed container for her. She blinked. It was still there. Huh. She sat up, reaching for it as she clicked the lamp on. Blinking in disbelief several more times, she was glad to find her room spotless, but for the rumpled bed. She got up with the food in one hand and took the cover off before dipping the fork in. A savory lump melted in her mouth and she sighed with gratification. Real food. Not just snacks from her pantry. It tasted better than wonderful. She shoveled a huge mouthful in as she walked forward, going past her pristine room, and into the bathroom where fresh towels hung on the racks. She glanced into the sink. It was scrubbed and disinfected. She didn’t imagine that. The last time she looked, there was plenty of dust and globs of toothpaste and hair stuck to the porcelain.