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I really am not interested in small talk or pretenses. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he leans back in his chair.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out who leaked that video of Asher?”
“What? You don’t think I had anything to do with that, do you?”
I tap my fingers on the table. “We’ve known each other a long time, Porter. Long enough for me to know that you would do any fucking thing to get ahead. Unfortunately for you, my father is not here to protect you.”
“Ryder, this is an outrage.” His gaze darts around the room, looking anywhere but at me.
“But is it?” Tilting my head to the side, I observe this parasite. “You’re fired, Porter. I have no use for you here.”
“This isn’t right, Ryder. I only did what your father asked.” Porter jabs a finger in my face, his neck cording, lips curling back. Gripping his finger, I press it back enough to cause pain but not injury.
“You would do well to walk out of here before this gets ugly.”
He snatches his hand back, standing, glaring down at me before turning and leaving the office.
* * *
Raising my hand, I knock tentatively at the door of a house I’ve visited a few times over the years, more so recently, but the kind of anxiety I feel right now is new. It feels like my chest is tightening, and I wonder, not for the first time, whether I am doing the right thing. Does she even want to see me?
When Marcella opens the door, she offers me a small smile. “Ryder, hi. Uhm…Ash isn’t home, she and my mom went out.”
“I’m actually here to see you.”
She nibbles at her bottom lip. “Come on in.”
Marcella leads me to the kitchen. “You want a beer?”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say, taking a seat at the island. I look around the kitchen, it’s modern but homey. There are pictures of Felicity and Marcella on the refrigerator.
She hands me a beer and takes a sip of her own.
I decide to rip off the band-aid. “I saw you, at the funeral. I wanted to talk to you but there was never a right moment.”
“Maybe Ash shouldn’t have told you when she did. You didn’t need to feel guilty about me with everything you were going through.”
“No. I’m glad she did. I won’t lie, though, I did not know how to feel about it then, and now, I still don’t.” Precipitation gathers around my fingers, and I focus on it rather than Marcella, my half-sister.
“None of this is your fault, and it isn’t your mess to fix. You know that, right? Your dad and my mom could have told us the truth many times over the years. I mean, can you imagine if we started dating or something?”
I nearly choke on my beer, and then we both laugh.
“Well, maybe you wouldn’t have hated me as much as you did if you knew I was your big brother.”
Marcella rolls her eyes, and then she smiles. “That actually sounds really nice. For as long as I can remember, I wanted a sibling.”
We spend the afternoon talking about my father. That is the hardest part, setting aside my animosity and trying to delve deep to find the good in him, so she doesn’t have only the bad. I tell her about Lily and my painting. She agrees to at least think about coming to work at Rothwell after she graduates. One thing I know is that my father neglected Marcella and her mother, and my sister will not have to worry about anything in the future. I’ll be there for her.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ASH
There’s a breeze rustling the leaves of the yew and cypress trees. It whips my hair in my face, and I brush it away. Rows of tombstones stretch as far as the eye can see. Cemeteries are such peaceful places. It is any wonder why people fear them. The real horrors are out there. I stop when I reach my destination. One tombstone, beneath which my whole world rests. Mom and Dad. I kneel and place my palm on the cold granite and when I do, I can hear his laughter and see her smile. Over the last two years, I have tried far too hard to push away the good memories, because they were too painful, too much. But it’s time I said goodbye.
“College is not what you two said it would be like,” I laugh through tears, sniffling a little. “It’s not uneventful, that’s for sure.”
