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“I was five and she was three.” He stopped again.
“Justin, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” he said in a husky voice, thick with pain and anger. “I need to.”
I nodded, unable to respond. This was personal. Beyond personal, and more than anything I expected to hear from any of the guys.
“She liked to play outside in the snow during winter. It was her favorite time of year. I had a fever, and Mom was too busy taking care of me so Ariel begged our dad to take her. He finally caved. If there was only one word to describe Ariel, it was persistent.” A brief smile appeared but it was gone all too soon. But the pain in it was enough to choke me up. “Dad was one of those men who only knew how to work. He was frustrated with her, but he wasn’t the type to take care of a sick child, so he went while Mom stayed with me. He took her out to play.”
Fear gripped me as he told me his story. I already knew where it was going, and yet I felt unprepared to handle what he was about to reveal.
“One of his clients called him, and he was focused on the conversation. He got distracted. A fucking client. But it was enough. Ariel went out on the ice. By the time he noticed, she was already too far out. The ice broke.”
Justin paused, his voice cracking at the end. I gave him the time he needed to collect himself. He didn’t need me bombarding him with questions. I knew better than to say anything despite my heart breaking for him.
Justin had a sister. Had.
What I knew about Justin, he would have adored his baby sister, spoiling her, unable to say no. Hell, if she had asked him, he probably would have gone outside with her even if he was sick. I wondered for a moment what she would have looked like. Would she be as expressive as he was without having to say anything? Would her hair be as dark as his, curling at the ends? I forced my thoughts to stop going in that direction.
“After her death, everything fell apart. Mom and Dad argued constantly. Mom blamed Dad, and Dad took his anger out on me. He would beat me black and blue, hating me for being sick that day and becoming a handful. If I hadn’t been sick, Mom would have been out there watching over her. Me too. We would have been able to keep her off the ice. Dad twisted it around, made it seem like I got sick just to force him to act like a father. It was like that until Aunt Laura got me out of there when I was eleven.”
Justin stopped speaking. I tried my best to not cry. I could never comprehend what it would be like to lose a little sister, one that he adored and loved and most likely helped raise. I never got that chance. And then for it to be taken away from him. I would have been devastated.
“Why are you telling me this?” I rasped.
“I know pain, Cadence. I know it very well and I figured you out the moment we met. You know pain too.”
I shifted on the ground until the top of our heads were touching. Justin’s presence was heavy on me as was the silence that engulfed us. The air was pregnant with things left unsaid, leaving no room for awkwardness to slip through.
I let out a slow breath and lifted my arm, pulling my sleeve up to show him the deep bruising on the inside of it, at the crook of my elbow. I traced the damage lightly with my fingers, remembering what had happened yesterday. It was still so fresh. I could still hear her rasping breathing. The strength in her grip. The pain at seeing her like that, less than the Lindie I knew her to be.
Why was it so hard to talk about it? He showed me his past. Knowing him, he didn’t expect me to open up just because he had, but it was the least I could do. We understood each other. I needed him to know I understood him.
Slowly the words came out of me as I talked about the one thing I never talked about with anyone—the dirty details of Lindie’s abuse. “She dug her nails in when she grabbed me. She dragged me to her, tugging my hair, and then I was shoved off her. Simple day. She used to beat me black and blue, like your dad. She blames me for many things, things I do wish I could have changed, but know that I can’t. I can’t change the past. I hate that. I can’t fix what I broke. So she’d beat me. And when she wasn’t beating me, she would drink. Funny thing is, when she drinks, she doesn’t hurt me. It’s the days when she was sober that were the most dangerous.”
I lowered my arm and went back to staring at the clouds. “It’s fine now. I’m finally free.”
“You aren’t if you’re still getting hurt.”
“She’s at the hospital.” I swallowed, hoping to dislodge the ball of emotions in my throat. It was so thick that I wanted to open my mouth and scream. “It all came out over the summer. She’s getting the help that she needs now.”
“If that’s the case, then what happened?”
“I went to visit her yesterday. That was my mistake. I agitated her, and she lashed out.”
“It’s not your fault.”
But it was. I wanted to say that so badly, but instead kept my mouth clamped shut. He didn’t know the full story, and I wasn’t ready to share those details with anyone. I could barely think about them. Everything bad was too wrapped up in that one moment, that one decision, that changed it all.
Justin didn’t try to push it. He also knew when not to speak. I could feel his gaze as it bore into me, but I refused to look at him, to see everything in his expression that he wasn’t saying out loud. Justin’s arm came into view. He traced a pale scar that was hard to see. It ran down his forearm, down to his elbow.
“My dad broke a glass cup one day and then shoved me. I landed on the shards, cutting my arm open.”
I reached up and traced the scar. “We sure hit the jackpot with our parents, didn’t we?” I whispered. Justin gave me the tiniest smile in agreement.
“Cadence. We are going to help you. Me. Seth. Paxon. Toby. Bryan. All of us.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need it. She’s already dealt with.”
