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What would it be like to walk around life knowing that you have such a special bond with someone, knowing they'd come running if you called for help.
I don't have that. I never have, not even with my actual sister.
But I have Cora. And she's the ultimate best friend, cousin, andsisterI could ever ask for.
My amusement settles into something more. A bone-deep appreciation for our friendship. “It's really good to see you, Cora.” My voice comes out quiet, emotion stealing my volume.
“I'm so happy you're here.” Cora reaches across the picnic table and squeezes my free hand. As if she didn't already wrap me in a rib-crushing hug for five minutes.
Guilt settles heavily around my neck, sinking my shoulders. I should've come back sooner.
“I'm sorry. Work was crazy for a while.” And Rosewood reminded me too much of Nana Jo. It's an excuse, a flimsy one at that.
Cora's eyes soften and she bobs her head just the barest inch like she can read my mind. Knowing her, she probably can.
Coraline Carter has been my best friend for my entire life. Literally. She's two years older, but if you ever asked her, she'd claim I'm the more mature one.
“I didn't mean it like that. Just that it's good to see you. Video chatting is great, but sharing ice cream is better,” she says.
“I'm glad I'm here too,” I murmur, enjoying the way that saltiness of the pecans cuts through the super sweet caramel drizzle.
“And besides, the amount of times your mom and sister have been in Rosewood this last year is nuts. I don't blame you for steering clear. They've been buzzing around like a pair of vultures. I swear Lizzy has been at Roberts Law more than Auntie Ginny.”
My mouth parts, and she points a spoonful of strawberry ice cream. “Don't you dare, Evangeline Bailey.”
I arch a brow and work to keep the smile from my face. “Ooh, you're middle-naming me now?”
She emphasizes her spoon once. “Hell yes I did. I can see excuses written all over your face. You're too forgiving and generous, and I already told you, we're done making excuses for Lizzy and her shitty behavior.”
I lift a shoulder and let it fall back down just as slowly. The simple action the best representation of my muddled thoughts and opinion on my sister. “My feelings about her are complicated. She's had a hard life.”
Cora scoffs, the noise loud even in the middle of a full courtyard of people. “Please. That girl was born with a shitty attitude. She's always been entitled, but she's only gotten worse as she's gone on tour with that guy, what's-his-name. She's a fucking know-it-all, Eve, and she makes you feel small every time she opens her mouth. I don't know why you take her shit, babe. I really don't.” She shakes her head and looks down at her melted sundae.
My heart beats a steady, slow beat of quiet acceptance. “She's my sister.” It's my only response, and somehow, it means nothing and everything.
Cora looks up at me through her thick fringe of black lashes. “We make our own family, Eve.”
The Carter family motto floats between us, ballooning to fill the space around our picnic table. A smile hooks up the corner of my mouth as I take another bite.
The comfortable silence stretches between us.
“Do you think it'll ever get easier? Missing her?”
The question feels out of left field, and yet, I know exactly what she's really asking. Who she's asking about.
I nod slowly, letting my gaze drift over her shoulder and look without focus. “I think I'll always miss her. But lately, I don't know, it feels like she's still here too. In the juniper and marigold breeze. In the sun as it sets and creates vibrant pink and orange streaks across the sky. In her murals and paintings around the town.”
Heartache steals my breath for a moment, the sharp pain as sudden as it is intense.
“Grief doesn't change, Cora. It's always going to be there, this ache behind your ribs. But over time, I think we just learn how to live with it. Until one day, we realize that it doesn't hurt anymore.”
“Damnit, Eve.” Cora sniffs, wiping underneath her bottom lashes with the little white rectangular napkins from the black holder in the middle of the table.
“You know, I thought it might be hard, being here.”
She sniffs, crumpling up the napkin in her fist. “And is it?”
“No,” I tell her, my voice soft. “It's nice. Welcoming.”
