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As Siena flipped the chops over, she saw her hands shaking. Fuck, she wanted not to talk about all this shit. She wanted to go to her room, get into her shower and try to scrub her humiliation away, scrub hard enough to destroy the memories of his hands, his mouth, his tongue on her skin. The caress of his breath as he whispered wonders over her body. The flex of his muscles as he moved in and out of her, over her. The feel of his cock, thick and long, filling her so full she ached. The way the tendons rose on his neck when he came. The way he’d made her come.
God, she’d come so hard. If she’d come that hard when she’dhadboobs, she couldn’t remember it. He’d made her feel sobeautiful. Sosexy. But it was all an illusion. He was good, a brilliant actor, but he couldn’t possibly see her that way.
And that was why she needed to scrub it all away.
She didn’t want to make dinner. She didn’t want to be strong or patient or ...
“Why can’t Cooper be in our lives?” Geneva asked again. “Did he do something bad? Is that why your hair’s all messy?”
“Oh my fuckinggod, Gennie!” Siena shouted. “Will youpleasestop asking questions. Just for five fucking minutes!”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her snit evaporated, and all she felt was regret. Geneva stood in the middle of their shitty kitchen, her eyes wide and her mouth open.
Slammed with guilt and horror, Siena reached out for her sister. “Honey, I’m so sorry—”
Geneva snatched her arm away. “NO! DON’T TOUCH ME! MY NAME IS GENEVA! I HATE YOU!” She spun around and fled the room.
Siena turned off the grill and let herself drop to the kitchen floor. She sat there and curled over and had the miserable cry she needed.
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~oOo~
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When her tears weredrained, Siena stood, washed her face at the kitchen sink, put the pork chops in the fridge, retied her ponytail, and went back to talk to Geneva. She knocked on the door. When there was no response, she turned the knob, but when she tried to open the door, she got only an inch or two; Geneva had dragged the old footlocker she used for her treasures in front of the door.
“Go away!” Geneva demanded. Not a shout, but with emphasis.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you, honey.”
“And cussed at me!”
“And cussed at you. Really sorry.”
“And used my wrong name.”
“And used your wrong name. Really very sorry. Please let me in so we can talk.”
Geneva didn’t answer, but Siena heard the various squeaks, rustles and shuffles of her getting up from her bed, crossing the room, and dragging the chest out of the way. The door swung open and she stood there, her expression locked down tight.
“You got mad at me for asking questions, but I don’t know another way to get answers about things I don’t know. I couldn’t look those answers up. I don’t know why wanting to know things is bad.”
“It’s not bad, Geneva. Can I come in, so we can talk?”
“No. I don’t want you in my room. This is my safe space and you’re not making me feel safe.”
That hurt, but Siena had earned it. “I’m sorry you don’t feel safe with me right now. Will you come to the living room, then? I’ll answer your questions.”
“All of them?”
Oh, that was scary. But Siena nodded. “All of them. As well as I can.”
“Okay.” Very carefully, like she was hiding secrets in her room, Geneva edged into the hallway and closed her door. “Let’s go to the living room.”
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~oOo~
