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I say nothing, just nod.
Then I climb the stairs slowly, using the wall for support and go straight to my room, lying on the bed while the room spins around me.
“It’s got to be worth a try though, right?”
I stall, my hand hovering over the door handle as my older sister’s voice flows out from inside the kitchen.
“We have to do something, Mom.”Brett.
“I don’t know. It’s so far away.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as my mouth goes dry at the anguish in Mom’s voice.
“What do you think, Reed?”
I lean closer to the closed door. My soon-to-be brother-in-law is here as well. Which is only to be expected. Him and my older sister, Harley, have been joined at the hip ever since they started dating when he was running in the election for mayor of New York last year. A position he won with a record share of the votes.
I really am the only fuck up in the family.
“I think it could be good for her,” he says.
I roll my eyes. Always diplomatic. Maybe that is what years in politics does for you.
I take a deep breath and open the door. Four pairs of eyes fly to me.
“Busy discussing what a trainwreck I am?” I walk over to the refrigerator and grab a carton of orange juice. Fetching a glass from the cabinet, I pour it in and take a sip, sighing in relief as its cool sweetness eases the rough hoarseness that a night of too many cocktails has had on my voice.
“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Rose,” my sister says from her seat at the kitchen table. Her fiancé, Reed, lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. “We were just discussing how to help you.”
I snort as I drain the rest of my juice.
“Drowned me at birth?” I mutter.
Mom’s eyes plead with mine as I look into them.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, my shoulders dropping. “I’m fine, honestly. I just had one too many last night, that’s all.”
“It’s every weekend.” Brett looks at me from under his brow from where he’s sitting between Mom and Harley.
“Not every—”
“And some nights in the week,” he finishes, pushing his head into his hands and running his fingers back through his hair. “We love you, Sis. We want you to stop blaming yourself.”
My throat burns again.
“How can I do that? When we all know it’s my fault we are even having this conversation.” I walk to the dishwasher and put the glass inside.
“There’s a new job that Harley’s friend has told her about,” Mom says suddenly.
I freeze with my back to them, my spine stiffening.
“We think it would be good for you,” she adds.
“I have a job.”
“Youhada job,” Brett says.
I turn, crossing my arms over my chest.
