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He shook his head, leaning back and putting his hands behind him. He stretched his legs out. He never stopped looking at the ocean. “Not that sister.”
Two sisters? I was still frowning, but I also shut up. This was his moment, his time to talk.
“Her name was Sarah. She was best friends with Burford. Titi called her Sissy, calls her Sissy.”
I almost twitched from my reaction. Sabrina? The same girl I had a smackdown with in the library? The first time I’d met Cruz?
He laughed to himself, looking down. “I hate that girl, but that day, Miles invited me to your table. You were there. Gavin. And her. I walked up, saw her, and started to turn around, and then you spoke, and fuck, man. Fuck. Just your voice made me hard.” He flashed me a grin, a wry look in his eyes, but he stared at me steadily. “I stayed because of you that day. Burford didn’t call you a cunt because Miller was flirting with you that day. She was pissed because she could tell I wanted you.”
“Are you serious?”
He nodded, going back to staring at the ocean. “All cards on the table, I figured I should fess up to that part.”
“She wanted you?”
He shook his head. “No. She wanted my attention. Since…” He looked down, swallowing again before lifting his chin once more. “I seriously hate that girl, but it’s not even because of her. It’s because of what she was a part of that day. She was in the car. Sarah was driving. Titi was in the back. Titi–she was obsessed with Sarah and Sabrina. Obsessed. I know I should blame Sarah, but…” A harrowed expression crossed his face. “If it hadn’t been for Burford, Titi wouldn’t have been in the car. I… How fucked up is it that I’m more mad Titi lives how she lives because of that accident and not that I lost my other sister? Sarah died. She… She was messed up. Burford and her were best friends. I have no idea how they met. Sarah was a year younger, but they were. Sarah wasn’t the queen bee, but she kinda was at the same time. Not that I give a fuck about that shit, but just laying it all out. Sarah was popular, but she was such a bitch. Normally she didn’t give Titi two fucks. She’d just ignore her and go on about her selfish life. Not that day. Sabrina was nice to Titi when she was around and it’s because of Sabrina that Titi was in that car. Only goddamn reason Sarah pretended to be okay with it. That car accident.” He cursed, low and savagely, shaking his head and his hands balled up into fists. “Sarah died, and Titi lost her chance at a normal life.”
I was aching, wanting to go to him.
“You asked me how I knew how to handle your mom?” He looked my way now, his whole face twisted up. “It’s because that’s how Sarah was.”
I was bowled over, but I wasn’t at the same time.
“I know I should miss my sister, and I know she was sick. They gave her so many fucking diagnoses, but man,” his voice grew hoarse, “here’s the worst shit ever. I’m glad she’s gone.” He looked my way, that same stricken look coming over him. Bitterness flashed in his eyes before he turned away again. “I can’t remember a time when life was fine at the house. No peace. No quietness. Just always fucking Sarah, and her problems, and whatever she decided to hate the second she got up for the day. She was never happy. She was never–and she was vengeful. If I had a good day, and she didn’t, she’d break something in the house and blame it on me. Mom was scared of her. Titi doesn’t remember her the way she was.
“To Titi, Sarah was loving and the best big sister ever. Every time she says something, Mom and I just give each other a look and don’t say anything. I mean, fuck. My God. She’s been gone a year and four months and I still can’t bring myself to remember the good times. Swear to fucking God, I don’t remember any. I’ve tried. I hate that I feel this way, that I still loathe her, even when she’s gone. I think there was one Christmas where she was nice, one fucking holiday. And by her being nice, she didn’t throw a temper tantrum that the whole day wasn’t about her. I hate my sister. She’s dead. I should be mourning her. I was told that when someone dies, you automatically remember the good because that’s what we should remember. Not the bad. The bad doesn’t matter anymore. Just the good, but not me. Not for her. I can’t remember shit, and I get mad about that, that I can’t because fuck me.
