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We all just need to calm down," I try again, moving closer to my brother in a feeble attempt to defuse the situation.
But Bastian’s gaze remains fixed on the spot Sienna stood moments before. His fists clench tighter, the knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. "Fuck!" Bastian bursts out, his voice a raw, guttural roar of frustration. Tears well up as anger gives way to helplessness.
I reach out tentatively, my hand hovering in the air, not sure if I should comfort him or try to hold him back. Before I can decide, Bastian tears himself away, pacing the length of the kitchen like a caged animal.
“There’s a storm coming,” Caleb says, staring out the window at the last spot where we saw Sienna. “I know we’re all on edge but sending her away was a bad idea. She’s got nowhere to go.”
He turns back to face us, shoulders shaking. “I’m angry too, but you shouldn’t have made her leave, Bastian,” he says, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You fucked up.”
“We all just need to calm down,” I tell them, releasing Bastian. “There’s a lot of shit she stirred up. We don’t need to go off half-cocked right now, not until we’ve figured out what we want to do.”
“I’ll tell you what I want,” Bastian snarls. “I want you to box her shit up, get it out of here. Throw it out on the lawn for all I care. Don’t let her back in this house. I never want to see her prissy little face ever again.”
It’s as though Sienna kicked a metaphorical hornet’s nest, stirring shit up like this. Bastian isn’t handling it well, but it’s not her fault either. We probably should have told her about this sooner. It doesn’t feel fair that it was sprung on her, and in a way that we couldn’t control.
As I watch Bastian pace, I feel torn. Am I doing the right thing by standing by his side, or should I go look for Sienna? How much of the true story does she know about Rich’s involvement with Emily anyway? She says he told her the truth but what does that mean?
Sienna doesn’t deserve to be thrown out for wanting to get some answers. Now we have no way of contacting her since her phone is still on the coffee table where she left it.
“I wish we’d dealt with all this shit a long time ago,” I say, thinking back to Emily’s funeral and how, after lowering her into the ground, it was like we buried her in our minds too. We haven’t talked about her since that day. “Don’t you think it would have been better than this?”
“No,” Bastian snaps. “It’s in the past, it needs to stay there where it belongs. I’m not interested in ‘dealing with my unresolved trauma,’” he says, using air quotes. “Or any of that shit he used to feed us. Right now, I want to fucking eat my food.”
“But don’t you think …” Caleb says, but Bastian interrupts him.
“Sit the fuck down,” he orders. “You too Dom. Eat before this shit gets cold.”
The two of us share a look before we sit back down at the table and start eating, the silence speaking volumes.
I don’t know what’s going to happen next but maybe when everyone cools down a little, we can figure it out.
For now, I eat the lunch I made and try to ignore the ache in my chest and the lump in my throat.
17
SIENNA
“Fine! I’m leaving!” I scream, slamming the door behind me. A burst of adrenaline fills me as I run to my car, jamming my keys into the ignition and taking off as fast as I can, weaving through the streets like a madman in my quest to get away.
How dare they! The image of their faces, so nonchalant and deceitful, burns in my mind. I opened up to them, like when I told Dominic about my mother’s alcoholism. I told Caleb about how I felt like an outsider. I guess it meantnothing.
Anger pulses through my veins, mixing with the raw ache of betrayal. But beneath the rage, there's a nagging doubt that I can't shake.
My mind drifts back to a few days ago, hanging out in the garage while Bastian worked. We were chatting about something dumb—something funny about banana milkshakes. When I asked him what his favorite dessert was as a kid, he’d locked up, jaw clenched tight. He shut down any further attempts at conversing, leaving me bewildered.
Then there were the fleeting glances that Caleb and Dominic exchanged whenever I asked about their secret phone calls andmiddle-of-the-night rendezvous—silent communication that left me feeling like an outsider, excluded from their pack.
At now, I realize I’ve been so consumed with being with them, that I’ve let myself ignore the red flags lurking under the surface.
My stomach starts knotting up and it feels like a heavy weight is sitting on my chest. I can’t get enough air and I yank the wheel, pulling into a nearby parking lot to try to calm my racing thoughts.
But the tightness in my chest still won’t go away. I shove open my door and stumble out, leaning against the hood as I take several ragged breaths. Bile rises in my throat and I swallow hard, trying to keep it together.
“Son of a bitch!” I curse, knuckles turning white as I clench my hands into fists against the hood. Burning hatred boils up, and I yank the door open to reach inside. My hands close around my spare sunglasses and I pull them out and throw them across the parking lot as hard as I can, then let out a ragged sob.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I try to calm myself down, but I feel several drops of water splash over my skin. Glancing up, I realize dark, ominous-looking clouds have gathered across the sky, so I jump back inside just as the sky opens up around me.
Torrential rain begins pouring down, the realization washing over me that I’ve got nowhere to go. As I sit there in the rain, I think back to how kind Dr. Thornton had been to me this morning. Maybe I can hang out in his office, just until the rain subsides.
