by Jill Shalvis
He pulled her inside, peeled her out of her drenched sweater, and draped a throw blanket around her shoulders. Then he pulled her into him and wrapped her up in his arms.
She didn’t even realize she was crying until he palmed the back of her head and soothed her with his low voice, murmuring things she couldn’t hear over the sound of her sobs.
It was mortifying.
But seeing Brynn shut down with shock had just about gutted her. She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t really even realized how much she wanted to be sisters with her, until she’d blown it. She didn’t want to lose her, or her moms. They were amazing. But as usual, she’d put a match to all of it.
It wasn’t like she enjoyed being the girl who everyone loved to hate. But no matter how hard she tried, she chased people away. She honestly had no idea why Eli, Max, and Deck still liked her, but she was grateful.
But it was only Deck she needed tonight.
He extracted himself briefly, then reappeared a few minutes later. “Wanted to make sure Tobes was settled okay. He’s already out like a light.” He then scooped her up and sat on the couch with her in his lap. Holding her against his big, warm body, he didn’t press her to talk.
Which was probably why she did. “I screwed up,” she whispered.
He stroked a big hand down her back and she snuggled in, wishing there weren’t wet clothes and a thick blanket between her and his bare chest.
“What happened?” he finally asked.
“I was at family night at Brynn’s tonight.”
“By accident?”
She snorted, appreciating his dry sense of humor. “I know, right? Pretty unlike me. But Brynn’s moms asked me to come, invited everyone. They said no one ever skips family night, so we all went.”
He was quiet a minute. “By all, you mean who?”
“Eli, Max, me . . .”
“So . . . everyone got an invite.”
She lifted her head. “My mom came too. I never thought she would. She never shows when she says she’s going to. I only invited her in the first place because Olive and Raina insisted. And then, because she was about to spill my secret, I had to tell Brynn the truth.”
Deck’s brows raised. “The truth.”
“About us being half sisters.”
Another pause from Deck, probably wondering exactly how stupid she was to have let this happen. “How did Brynn take it?” he finally asked.
Kinsey winced. “Not great. She left.”
“Remind me again why you didn’t tell her until you were forced to?”
She blew out a breath. “I’ve always meant to. But . . . she’s got this great life, you know? Awesome moms, and she’s so loved . . .”
Deck stood up, set her back on the couch, and strode across the room to the sliding glass door, looking sightlessly out into the night.
“Deck?”
“You’ve got an option at that same so-called perfection that Brynn has. You know that, right? You’ve just chosen not to pick it. Over and over again.”
She nodded, because this wasn’t new information. Something else that wasn’t new—she had a long history of not paying close enough attention to those she cared about. Having studied psychology for her job, she’d learned that was because she was selfish. The world revolved around her. She tried really hard to teach kids to stretch their wings beyond that selfish place. She’d been working on doing the same, but she’d clearly regressed big time. Because if she forced herself to look at tonight from the outside, it all came into sharp focus.
Deck was frustrated because she hadn’t invited him to the dinner. “I should have brought you with me tonight,” she said softly to his back.
He shrugged. “I don’t ever want something from you that you don’t want to give.”
Somehow this only made her feel even worse. “I should’ve asked you.” With a throat thick with emotion, she rose and walked to him. “Just as I should’ve told Brynn about me and her before she found out this way.” She put her hands on his arms and turned him to face her. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you, Deck.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.”
Not buying this, he shook his head.
She sighed and admitted the truth. “I’m afraid to let you all the way in.”
“Babe, you’ve already got me on my knees. All you’ve gotta do is unlock and open up.” He gently tapped a finger over her heart.
She dropped her head onto his chest. “I’m just so tired.”
His hands went to her hips and he pulled her in. “It’s late. Stay. I’ll make you grilled cheese.”
She managed a smile. “You know I’ve got a soft spot for grilled cheese.” She paused. “And for you.”
He gave her a knowing look. “More than just friends with benefits minus the friends part.”
Yes. It was on the tip of her tongue, which she bit to keep the words inside. Because she couldn’t say them. She’d never be able to say them.
He stared at her for a beat. “Shit.” He dropped his hands from her. “I’m such an idiot.”
Her heart lurched and she stood up. “No. It’s me. I’m the idiot. I . . . I’m attracted to you, Deck. You know that. And I need you. You’re important to me. You know that too.”
“Most guys would buy that and let you take the out because you’ve got kidney disease. But I’m not most guys, Kinsey. So stop bullshitting me. If stolen moments are all you’re feeling for me, then fine. But if you’re running scared, which I think you are, then you’re also a hypocrite.”
“Excuse me?”
“Isn’t running scared what you object to about Brynn? You worry she’s going to take off and hurt Eli? And you?”
“I—” She shook her head. How was it he always got to the heart of the matter, where she’d not even seen the heart of the matter? “Yes. Okay? Yes, I’m a hypocrite. But I’m afraid I’m going to get hurt. Somehow I always get hurt because I overestimate how much people like me. Or don’t like me. I mean, most of the time, I don’t know why anyone would feel anything for me at all. I mean, look at me, Deck. I’m a mess, all the time.”
“I like you just as you are. Always have.” He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “How could you not know how I feel about you?” he asked softly.
“Well, I try really hard not to dig too deep,” she quipped, heart pounding. “It’s an art, really, and it’s the one thing I’m really good at—”
“Stop.” His voice was gruff but gentle. “Stop redirecting and avoiding. Just listen. Because I’m going to tell you exactly how I feel so that I know that you know, and then you know that I know that you know.”
She gaped at him. “You’ve been watching Friends.”
“Three times a week without fail. I’m in love with you, Kinsey.”
Oh, God. Her heart stopped.
But Deck wasn’t finished. “And I believe you love me too. But you’re in denial, deep. I get that tonight was rough on you. I also get that this is about you and Brynn right now, so we can absolutely table this and discuss later, but at some point, we will circle back to it.”
He was always there for her, always willing to set aside his own feelings and his own agenda for her. No one had ever done that, not even Eli. But all she could do was shake her head. “I can’t do this. Any of it. Brynn probably hates me.”
“Since when has it ever bothered you what anyone thought of you? Did you at least tell her all of it? That you also know where your dad is, the dad you two share?”
“Of course I didn’t! Look, I didn’t start off this story by saying I’d made smart decisions tonight! I realize I’ve kept three big secrets from her: the whole me being sick thing, us being sisters, and our dad. And for the record, I never intended to keep that last a secret. But I know the truth—that she’ll hate me even more when she finds out about him, and my history with him, that he lived with us a few times on and off. So I have to swallow my urge to come clean, because that’s for me. Not te
lling her . . . well, that’s for her. Especially after hearing some of her story tonight. There’s no way I’ll ever let her meet that asshole. Her ex conned her, Deck. She has no idea how easily her father would do the same if given a chance.”
Some of his irritation seemed to fade, replaced by concern. “I know you went and saw him for his birthday a few weeks ago,” he said. “That it was the first time in years. But you said it went fine and you didn’t want to talk about.”
She plopped back onto the couch. “Still don’t.”
“Kins.” He crouched at her side and looked into her face in that way he had of seeing her, really seeing her. “What did he do?”
She sighed. “I’ve told you about him. He comes off all sweet and affable and charming. But . . .” She shook her head. “Just like always, I let him fool me. He always does that and I think, hey, it’s all going to be okay, and then . . .”
“What did he do?”
Instead of answering, she closed her eyes. “Am I really so difficult and hard to love?”
“Oh, Kinsey.” He pulled her into him. “Loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. And I bet if you asked Eli or Max, or any of the kids you’ve taken care of at work, they’d say the same.”
She drew in a deep breath of pure Deck. She hated to correct his emotional declaration with some cold, hard facts, but that’s exactly what she had to do. “Everyone loves chocolate milk. Until it expires, and then it’s over. It doesn’t matter how much people love it . . . it’s still gone.”
He wrapped a fist in her hair and tugged lightly, tipping her face up to his. “Are you comparing yourself to expired chocolate milk?”
“Yes!” She gave him a little push for emphasis. “I’m the expiring chocolate milk!”
He was looking pretty ticked off now. Quite the feat, making the man with infinite patience run out of that infinite patience. “I should be pretty fucking insulted that you think I’d actually walk away from you because you’ve got a medical condition that you can’t control,” he finally said. “But I get how you grew up, how the people who should’ve loved you let you down, so I know you’re speaking from hard-earned experience, but let me say it again. None of that shit matters to me.”
She shook her head. “You have to say that. You want to sleep with me.”
His mouth tightened. “You’re tired and upset, so I’m going to do us both a favor and pretend you didn’t just say that. Tell me what your father did, Kinsey.”
“He wanted to know the current going rate for one of his kidneys.”
“Jesus.” He dropped his head for a moment and studied his feet while the air crackled with tension. But as always, he got ahold of himself, and by the time he looked at her again, all she could see was steady, stoic Deck. “He’s not a potential donor, you already knew that.”
Yes, she’d known it since the day he’d actually shown up for one of her birthdays. Her fifteenth. He hadn’t been around for a few years at that point, and he’d told her there at her party that he’d been out of rehab for only a few weeks. She’d had no idea at the time what he’d been addicted to—drugs or alcohol, it hadn’t mattered. Either left him out of the running to give her a kidney, ever.
“I wish I was a match,” Deck said with a fierce quiet, volumes of emotion behind those six words.
She shook her head, grateful he wasn’t. “I’ve told you, I’m never again going to take a kidney from someone still using it.”
“Why would you deny someone who wants to save your life?”
“You know why!” She jumped to her feet and paced the room, frustrated he didn’t get it, that no one got it.
“Your donor’s death wasn’t on you.”
Logically, she got that. But emotions weren’t logical. And neither were hopes and dreams. All she’d ever wanted was a fix that wouldn’t involve putting anyone else at risk. The only reason she’d allowed herself to be on a list for a kidney was because, in most of those cases, a kidney would come in because someone unfortunately no longer had a need for it. She knew that no one understood this, but she didn’t care. Because what they also didn’t understand was how it’d felt knowing that not only had she wasted someone’s good kidney when her body had rejected it, but that the process of donating had killed him. “I’ve held a lot back from you,” she said. “I admit that. It seems I’d rather choke on my words than let you see me vulnerable. But God, I’m so tired of being so vulnerable,” she whispered.
“Ah, Kins.” He pulled her back into him, pressed his jaw to the top of her head. “Being vulnerable isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength. But even if that wasn’t true, you’re not alone.”
This was true. He was there. He was always there. And the thought suddenly made her panic, made her throat close up, which in turn made her feel hemmed in, claustrophobic. Because no matter how hard she tried to keep him at a distance for his own good, she failed. Stepping free, she turned away. “I’ve got to go.”
“There it is.” He let her get to the door. “While you’re already freaked out,” he said to her back, “you might as well know.”
“Know what?”
“I want more than this.”
She closed her eyes. Dropped her forehead to the door.
He came up behind her but didn’t touch her. “I want to be more to you than just a booty call because you’ve had a rough time at a family dinner that you chose to go to alone rather than bring me.”
“Don’t you see?” she whispered, turning to face him. “Being with you . . . having you love me . . . you’re already giving me so much more than I can ever give you.”
“Maybe you’ve underestimated yourself.”
“It’s a gift I can never pay back, Deck. Ever.”
“When it comes to love, there is no paying it back,” he told her. “Real love goes to the ends of the earth with no regrets. It’s there for you, Kins, and it’s right in front of you. All you’ve got to do is hold on.”
“I can’t.” She felt the tears leak from eyes and swiped at them angrily. “I’ve gotta go.”
Shockingly, he reached around her to open the door for her.
And with nothing else to say—after all, this was a disaster of her own making—she walked away.
And he let her.
Chapter 20
From seventeen-year-old Kinsey’s summer camp journal:
Dear Journal,
Surprise! I’m still around. Survived the infection from hell, and now I’m going to be living with transplant rejection, but, hey, breathing is breathing, right?
I’m weaning off the depression meds, and Eli is no longer watching me every second of the day like I might jump off a cliff. Fuck that. I want to live, just to prove I can.
But I’ve got a secret. When I was at rock bottom last year, I went looking for my dad. Sure, he walked away from his own daughter, so I don’t know why I did this. Okay, that’s a lie. Honestly? Just between you and me? I think I went looking to see if he’d offer to help me. I told myself I’d never accept his kidney, I just . . . Hell. I just wanted him to offer. My mom actually helped me, and we located him in Bakersfield, a hellhole about two and a half hours from Wildstone.
He was the same charismatic con man I remember. Oh, and he wanted to know what the going rate was for a kidney these days. Charming, right? But . . . when I was looking for more deets on him through one of those ancestry apps, I learned something shocking—he isn’t my only blood relative. I’ve got a sibling, a half sibling, and with some more research, I found her.
Are you ready for this?
It’s Brynn.
Yes, that annoying weirdo from summer camp, the one with the frizzy hair, the one who was even worse at sports than me, the one who also had bad night vision—although mine was less bad.
Mental head thunk here. Because how did I not see this sooner???????
I called her. I don’t know why. I just thought that somehow we’d immediately feel like sisters. She was rude and I h
ung up. And that’s the end of that story.
Thanks for being here for me, journal.
Kinsey
BRYNN WOKE UP slowly. Mornings always sucked, and this one sucked harder than most. Even lying there perfectly still while trying to fall back asleep, she couldn’t. Because she knew what was waiting for her.
The memories of what had happened last night.
She was Kinsey’s half sister, which had been kept from her.
Which also meant that any progress she and Kinsey had made toward a real friendship was null and void.
Rinse and repeat for Eli.
And if her heart hurt over Kinsey—and, oh, it did—it had actually broken over Eli.
But she’d never had the luxury of wallowing in heartbreak, and now was no exception. She had things to do. People to yell at. People being Kinsey.
Her sister.
Half sister, she reminded herself, trying make the “half” part matter more. But it didn’t. All her life she’d wished for a sibling, and to find out she had one, but that it’d been kept from her—by that very sister, no less . . . Gah. Tired of playing dead, she opened her eyes. She was in her room at Eli’s house. He’d brought her here, a quiet but solid, steady presence that on any other really bad night she would’ve appreciated. He’d tried to follow her into her room to talk, but she’d kicked him out.
He’d sent Mini in as his substitute, and the sweet, gentle dog was at her side, still sleeping.
And snoring. And drooling.
Her head was pounding courtesy of the bottle of wine she’d imbibed alone. And how had she forgotten how much wine made her head hurt the next morning?
With a groan, she sat up and blinked blearily. Mini lifted her head too, thumping her tail on the bed in greeting. Brynn hugged her, then froze at the sight of Eli fast asleep in the chair that usually lived in the corner. He’d pulled it closer. It wasn’t big enough for a full-grown man, so his legs were sprawled out in front of him and his head was crooked to the side, his body loose and relaxed as only the dead asleep could manage. He wasn’t snoring or drooling, which was annoying. He was a liar.
