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“Look, I don’t want any trouble, and I don’t want Caroline worrying about me. She’s always trying to protect me, keep me from making mistakes. But I’m not like her, okay? No one cares about me, not like they do her.”
“I think your sister cares about you, greatly.”
“That’s not always enough, though, is it?”
She stares at me, eyes full of an incomprehensible sadness, and I find myself struggling to look away. Hers are like a black hole, a chasm with no end in sight, and it physically pains me to observe the suffering.
Especially when it’s clear she doesn’t understand it—doesn’t know how her own sister suffers. And fuck, neither do I, but I knowsomethingis off.
“It’s hard being completely invisible to your parents. Mom, at least, ignores both of us. She’s a real bitch. But Daddy, he always,alwaysfavored Caroline. Said she outranked me in beauty, brains. All of it. So, you can sit here and think of me as a spoiled brat like everyone else, but I don’t care.”
What kind of a father would say that to his kid?
Probably the same that would compliment the other, so he could abuse her and keep her silent about it.
She continues, gripping the gold locket around her neck. “Care used to say he abused her, and no one ever... they acted like she was a ghost. Like what she said didn’t matter. And I always thought if they could ignore something like that, what would they do if they knew the truth about me?”
Tapping my index finger along the toe of my loafer, I wait. Wait for a confession, an admission of guilt, for derisive laughter that often accompanies sadness with her generation. But the gaze staring back at me no longer holds anything; her blue eyes look almost empty, devoid of everything.
Like she got tired of waiting for people to notice and turned it all off instead.
What’s eating you, little one?
She rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of golden hair from her face. “I don’t know why I’m even spilling all of this to you, a complete stranger. I must have had way too much to drink.”
“Strangers often make the best therapists.”Made men do not.I don’t mention how her speech isn’t slurred in the slightest, how her pupils seem to have relaxed like she’s coming down from whatever high she was on. It’s not my place to point out, to ask why she’s pretending to be drunker than she actually is.
“It’s just been weird having Caroline out of the house. I’ve been back from school officially since last week, and usually, we hang out all summer because she’s never doing anything else. Other than stupid shit for Daddy.”
A heavy pressure rankles in my chest, squeezing my heart. “She never does anything? No work, charity, nothing like that?”
“Caroline’s a homebody. She doesn’tlikethe attention she gets from being Daddy’s princess, so she stays home, baking until she loses her mind.”
I process that, coupling it with the surveillance I’ve seen since we’ve been married of her spending all her time in my kitchen, rolling doughs, and using whatever’s available in the pantry. A natural chef, just like my mother, and it feels like that potential goes to waste with each passing day she spends at home.
“If you ever want to surprise her, and I only suggest this because I know you could do it, you should get her a bakery. Like, one to own and operate. She’s had the name picked out since we were kids: Care’s Crazy Cakes.”
A smile ghosts over my lips as I observe the wistful expression on Juliet’s face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Daddy always said that she wasn’t business-savvy enough to own one. Said us Harrisons were bred just to serve men.”
“That’s a dick thing to tell your daughters.”
She shrugs, picking at a loose thread on her skirt, trying to pretend it doesn’t bother her. But I can tell by the downcast eyes, the flush of her cheeks, that it does.
My throat constricts, words barely able to pass through. I can’t help wondering how far the abuse extends from Dominic, how badly he’s broken these girls. “What kind of stuff are you interested in?”
“I don’t know. I’m in school for marine biology, but... we’ll see, I guess. I’ve not put a lot of thought into it.” She eyes me, lifting her chin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“I wouldn’t imply otherwise.”
“Well, you’d be the first.” Pushing a stray hair out of her face, she slumps back in the chair, smacking her lips together. “I hope you don’t tell Caroline about any of this. She’ll just worry, and probably hate you for not calling her immediately.”
“Why would I call her?”
“Everyone always calls Caroline when I’m in trouble like she’s my mother or something. Like I’m a child in need of supervision.”
I cock an eyebrow. “And that’s not the case.”
