After we walked into the barn this morning, she divulged her entire life story—including the fact that her real name was Charlotte and she’d never been around so many kids before. When I asked her about school, she just shrugged and said her parents worked a lot, so she had a private tutor.
Seeing her again was like a fever dream. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I’d spent a portion of my life wondering what Grady and I’s kids would look like. He used to tease me relentlessly, saying he hoped our little girl would be my mini-me. I’d secretly hoped for the opposite. I wanted a little blonde-haired beauty running around that had eyes as crystal clear as his were.
That was Charlie to a T.
As hard as it was to be around her, I also couldn’t deny my curiosity. Her willingness to share literally everything was somehow distinct from the other kids. She was special in a way that made me sad and happy at the same time. There were so many things about her that reminded me of the boy I used to know, the one who has always held my heart.
“That’s great, sugar,” Dad said, giving me a sleepy smile. “You and your sister have worked so hard on this project. It must feel good to see it come together so nicely.”
“Huh?” I asked, lifting my head to stare at him. “Oh yeah, it feels great.”
Mom and Dad shared a look. “You feeling okay?”
“I think I’m just tired.”
He nodded, but I didn’t miss the flash of concern in his eyes. “You don’t have to babysit us old folks, ya know. Why don’t you head on to bed?”
I nodded, faking a yawn for their own benefit. I was tired, but there was no way I was getting to sleep now that I’d let myself go down the rabbit hole that was Grady Wilde. “Good idea.” I stood up, walking over and kissing the top of their heads before saying goodnight. “And for the record, I’m not babysitting.”
Dad snorted, and Mom rolled her eyes as she settled into the crook of the chair next to him. “Sure you aren’t.”
The house was quiet as I walked down the hall. It felt empty. Devoid of everything other than my parents’ fading conversation in the living room. I remember the days when our home was overflowing with life. It was such a strange contrast to the silence.
It used to be nothing to hear my sisters giggling and scheming from the other side of their doors. They would be up for hours, chatting until the early morning about boys and Cosmopolitan magazine. When I was younger, it used to annoy me, especially when our parents were working from sun up to sun down to grow this ranch into the enterprise it was today.
But now with Josie, baby Stella, and Lincoln living in their newly built home on the property and Lennox in love and shacked up with Bishop, I found myself missing my sisters more than I ever realized. It wasn’t that I didn’t see them daily, because I did. Lennox and I still worked together during the summer, and I frequently meal-prepped for Josie so she wouldn’t have to worry about it.
This was different, though. It was sad. Desolate. Empty.
Stepping into my bedroom, I quickly closed the door behind me and ran for my phone. I needed to talk to someone. Someone who knew everything, who wouldn’t judge my warring mind.
With trembling fingers, I texted Rachel.
Cleo
I need my friend and not a therapist.
I waited, my anxiety ratcheting up as the three dots popped up at the bottom of our messages.
Rachel
1. I’m not your therapist
2. Hit me with anything and everything.
I chewed on my lip, wondering what I should say. Might as well cut straight to the chase.
Cleo
Grady’s back.
The bubbles popped up, then quickly disappeared. Time seemed to drag as I waited impatiently for her reply. There was likely going to be a worn path on my rug from pacing back and forth.
Rachel
What do you mean, he’s back? Back where?
Cleo
