Page 89 of Was I Ever Real

As much as I love my sister, I would rather be sleeping in Connor’s arms than in my own bed without him. But I’ve already been robbed of the opportunity of being a big sister once. There was no way I was going to let Lucy travel this life-changing bridge alone. I need her to be okay. I need for her to find some small comfort in the outside world, not just another thing to fear.

I sigh and crawl out of bed as quietly as possible. Changing into a fresh shirt, I grab my phone and then pad into the living room. I rummage through my things for the half a joint I’m sure I’ve left somewhere. I’m trying to ease Lucy into my vices, not that I really consider weed a vice, but I need to be mindful of how sheltered she’s been. One day at a time, I keep reminding myself.

Finally, I find what I’m looking for and slide the balcony door open, the crisp night air feeling luxurious on my still overheated skin. I sit down, pulling my knees up on the chair, wincing slightly when the movement pulls at the fresh scab on my hip.

I hadn’t recognized the symbol at first, so my sister had to break it to me. The brand was made out of Fredricks’s initials. The letter F and L turned into a sigil on my skin. Cold dread trickled down my spine when she told me. I considered taking a scalpel to it immediately, disgusted to have anything of him on my body, especially something so possessive as his initials. I try not to think about it, the sick feeling in my stomach almost doubling me over anytime itdoescross my mind.

Sunny has stopped by daily since I’ve been back. I’m not sure why I always feared her reaction when she loves me so unconditionally. She’s vaguely hinted at me making an appointment with her therapist, and I know she’s right. Maybe I don’t need it in the way she needed it, but it’s trauma nonetheless. No matter how I try to tell myself that I’ll be fine, the nightmares themselves are enough to make me feel on edge.

I mull this all over while I spark the joint, my thoughts quieting into a small background hum when the smoke finally hits my lungs. I look down at the cityscape as I smoke. My balcony is high up but I can still make out most of what’s happening below, the street lights the only glow reflected against the parked car windows.

One of the cars snags my attention. I peer slightly closer as if me leaning over in my seat would really make a difference, but it’s enough for me to make out an arm hanging out of the driver’s window.

I laugh softly out loud and pick up my phone.

Connor picks up on the first ring.

“My darling,” he simply says, his voice low and scratchy as if he hasn’t used it in a while.

“I thought stalking was Byzantine’s thing?” I say jokingly, keeping my voice quiet.

He chuckles, and I can picture the smirk on his face, my body lighting up at the sound. “Runs in the family.”

I don’t bother reminding him they’re not related. I know what he means—just how Sunny is my family. From my seat, I watch him climb out of his SUV, closing the door behind him and leaning against the hood. I can almost make out his perfect face from here.

“Please don’t tell me you've been staking out my apartment building for the past three days,” I add teasingly.

“And if I have been?” he says in all seriousness.

I pause, finding comfort in that thought while I stare down at him from all the way up here.

“I’d say you were obsessed with me, Mr. Maxwell.”

There’s barely a beat before he answers, “I’ve always been obsessed with you, Mrs. Maxwell,” he drawls.

My heart pitches out of my chest and plummets over the balcony, landing at his feet.

It scares me how good that sounds coming from his lips.

I clear my throat, stubbing my joint in the ashtray next to me, and swipe my hand over my shaved head, a nervous habit I’m starting to pick up.

“I miss you.” I find myself saying.

There’s silence on the other end of the phone and then. “Come home, Lenix.”

“Soon,” I manage to say through all the unshed tears, fears and doubts.

“In the meantime, get some sleep, my darling.”

I nod as if he could see me. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” he says before hanging up.

I watch him get back into his car before dragging myself back to bed, the weed helping to keep the night terrors at bay. Instead, I dream of Connor and of the words he softly spoke into the dark night.

It takes me two more days to find the courage to start packing. I keep glancing over at Lucy guiltily as if she secretly hates me for leaving her all alone here.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says with a huff.

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