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I grip the Styrofoam cup so tightly it squeaks beneath my fingers, and I shift in my seat, trying to relax. To focus on something—anything—other than King Montgomery.
Buzz, buzz.
The vibration of my cell jolts me back to reality. I grab my phone and stare down at the message.
Cash: You going to see Jagger today?
My older brother is the last thing I want to think about today.
Juliet: Wasn’t planning on it
Cash: Come on, sis. It’s your turn
Juliet: Can’t Damon go? I have to work. And it’s not my turn
Cash: He can’t. We’re collecting rents today
Cash and Damon are the only landlords on the planet who make house calls to get their rent money. Granted, probably half of their clientele don’t have bank accounts, being on the wrong side of the law and all. And I don’t want to know what goes down when my brothers show up and the tenants can’t pay. It’s a damn miracle all three of them aren’t in jail.
Juliet: Fine. But you two owe me. I’m not going next month
Cash: Thanks, sis. You’re the bomb
I roll my eyes at the phone, knowing full well the two of them will try to sucker me into going next month too. But I’m going to stick to my guns. For real this time.
Visiting Jagger in jail isn’t my idea of fun. He’s never been nice to me, not even when we were younger and still living at home. My brother’s an asshole and always has been. I do feel slightly guilty that he’s in there in the first place, though. If I hadn’t turned over those papers to King, the three of them may have gotten away with the fake documents and won the lawsuit. But I couldn’t let them steal the Seaglass Inn from the Montgomerys. It wasn’t right.
So now I trudge over to the jail and play the role of the dutiful sister, standing by her brother in his time of need. All to assuage my feelings of guilt over doing the moral thing.
FML.
Which is why King told you to leave Seaglass Beach in the first place. To get away from your family, have a fresh start.
But nothing ever felt right the entire time I was away. I was like a ship tossing on a choppy sea, navigating through unknown waters. No compass, no direction. All I wanted was to come back home.
Totally fucking irrational, I know.
I missed the beach. I missed the town. I even missed my asshole brothers.
You missed King.
Maybe the old King. Not the King I left behind the day I fled from here.
Hard, angry King. His face stony, shoulders square, arms crossed over his chest. I can still see him standing there, scowling at me, telling me to go. Start over somewhere. Somewhere far, far away. From him, from us. From the life we were supposed to have together.
A sharp pain stabs me in the chest, stealing the breath from my lungs.
After all these years, I thought this would be easier.
But it isn’t.
Time’s healed nothing. I still have a gaping hole inside me, and I can’t seem to fill it with anything. Not with a job, a man, friends, food, alcohol, a fucking hobby.
Nothing takes away the pain. I sit with it. Every. Single. Day. Sometimes it’s dull, but it’s always there. A deep black hole, pulsating with every beat of my heart.
Because I survived.
I’m a survivor.
