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Why did I think I’d promised them dinner?
Habit, I suppose.
Hannah leads me back to the kitchen table, to sit on the bench with her with a gentleness and careful touch you’d need for a skittish kitten.
How can feeling so loved hurt this much?
“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” I mumble, mostly to distract myself from that very tough question, but also because siblings or not, we’re adults, and we’re well past the age of fighting like rabid dogs.
“We get to snap at each other, Sunny. Jace and I are your genetically mandated emotional punching bags when you need them, and you are ours.” She shrugs. “I think it’s a survival mechanism.”
A chuckle I thought I wasn’t capable of anymore bursts out of me, and seeing the surprise on my face, her face softens with understanding—not pity.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say quickly. I don’t want to talk about . . . that. “God knows how you managed to earn your fancy doctorate while thinking like that.”
“Having an open mind is important in academia,” she says, mock haughtiness all over her.
I sigh, fighting hard to let go of the fear, the humiliation, and the pure self-hatred—I don’t manage it completely, but then again, I can’t remember a time when I could.
Just in time to at least distract me from my brain, Barry comes back with two big bags that have a taco logo on the side.
“I was craving quesadillas,” Hannah says, the quick excitement in her voice another thing that helps me breathe easier.
“Thanks, guys,” I tell them quietly while helping them unpack dish after dish.
I really try to tune out the voice that’s telling me we’re eating junk because I’m such a lazy loser, but it’s impossible, even when Hannah speaks with her mouth full—a move that shows not only that she’s the typical chaotic middle child, but also that she was raised with two brothers.
“So, I was thinking . . .”
Hannah might think she’s being subtle, but she isn’t—at all.
“I know I’ve got to get my life back on track,” I start, to offset any lecture she might—
That’s not her way, not how she does things, and I should’ve known.
“Stop, Sunny.” Her tone is firm but not unkind. “You haven’t even been here a week and you deserve some fucking downtime considering the state you’re in.”
I look down at my still untouched tacos . . . yeah, eating has been a challenge.
“I think . . .” She starts out hesitantly, and that’s unusual enough to have me looking up. “You should go see a doctor and a therapist.”
“I, uh . . .” I knew this was coming, and I know I have to—
Didn’t I just say I need help?
“You’re right,” I settle on. “I was actually leaving the doctor’s office in Miami when it all just hit me.”
I haven’t been able to really talk about what those few hours were like, what the last year especially has been like.
One year of unemployment, of Henry—
No.
I can’t think about him, not yet.
“I should have the results of my bloodwork and the prescriptions he sent me in my inbox.”
They let the silence settle for a long moment before she grabs my hand.
