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“I don’t know. Maybe because you moped about her for years and now she’s back. It’s not like you’re seeing anyone.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d dated off and on over the years, but all those relationships had been fleeting, and not one of them had ever really wanted it to be more serious, which had been fine with me.
“You’re one to talk,” I fired back. “Your longest relationships don’t last past the night.” I took another drink. “And I didn’tmope.”
“You did,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t need a relationship period.”
“Yeah, asshole Ridge doesn’t need anyone at all,” I said. “Present company excluded.”
Ridge flipped me off, and I laughed.
“I’ve got no issue with how I live,” he said, leaning closer over the island. “But ten bucks says you’ve got issue with not taking her up on that olive branch she tried to hand you.”
I glared at him, but he wasn’t wrong. I was already regretting shutting her down as quickly as I did. It was a knee-jerk reaction though—my heart’s way of trying to protect itself. Because she’d wrecked it ten years ago and I’d never fully recovered.
Still, she may have only meant the offer as a friendly catch-up, not a date. For all I knew, she was married again. I’d seen the announcement sections enough to know she’d been married a few times. And it never hurt any less, even though it shouldn’t.
Ten years man, get the fuck over it.
“Another ten says you don’t go two days without tracking her down,” Ridge said, smirking at me.
“You’re on,” I said, clinking his bottle with mine. “I have no desire to see her. I’ve been down that road before and it’s a painful one.”
Ridge looked at me skeptically but I just shrugged.
I needed it to be true.
I needed to stay away from her.
Because there was no world in which Anne VanDoren and me got our happily ever after.
CHAPTER3
Anne
Isoftly closed the door behind me, practically tiptoeing out of my mother’s room.
“How did that go?” Persephone asked me once I made it down the hall and to the den. I took a seat next to her on the leather sofa, nodding.
“Really well,” I said, relief uncoiling some of the tension in my muscles. Mom was recovering in her master bedroom with every luxury at her fingertips. Hell, she even complained about being restless with all the down time and meds schedule, but she would never dare deviate from the doctor’s instructions.
“That’s wonderful,” my sister said, reaching across the space between us to squeeze my hand.
It was an effort to not pull away from her, the reaction was so ingrained in me.
I took a deep breath and simply allowed myself tofeel.
To feel comfort in her support, her love. To feel happy that Mom beamed at my three weeks’ sober success. It was all so different for me—actually feeling the emotions that came with being sober, not to mention actually being on the receiving end of my mother’s praise for once.
I loved making her proud, making my sister proud. I really did. I liked the accomplished feeling, even if I was only doing the bare minimum right now compared to what Persephone did in a regular day in her life—
Stop comparing.
Readjust.
I used the tools Dr. Casson had given me to realign my thought process when it came to my sister.
Persephone lives her life. I live mine. She does amazing things. I do amazing things.
