Page 39 of Claiming What's Mine

“You should be here.”

“Why?”

“Because. . .” Pausing, she sniffled and cleared her throat. “I need you here. I can't do this alone.”

“So don't do it alone, let the state handle it. He's not your problem, he never was. You were never responsible for him, even though you felt like you were.”

“He's our dad, we can't just forget that, it isn't right.”

Dragging my hand through my hair, I scratched my scalp. “Maybe not, but was anything he did to us right? Was how he treated us right? Yes, he was our father, but you were his daughter, I was his son—what about us? He dug his own grave, Beth, I won't feel bad for him, and I won't pity the life he had.”

“I'm not asking you to do any of that, I'm asking you to come to his funeral. If you won't do it for him, will you do it for me?”

Rubbing my jaw, I ran my hand down my throat, reaching behind my neck. “I never wanted to come back there, I made a promise to myself.”

“What about the promise you made me? You remember that promise? The one where you said you'd always be there for me no matter what?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, I need you, Jay.”

Thinning my lips, I closed my eyes. “I'll think about it.”

“Alright, I guess that's better than a flat-out no.”

“Don't do that, don't make me feel bad about this. He wasn't good to me, Beth, you know this, you saw it.”

“I know, and I get it, don't think I don't.”

Neither one of us said another word, the air between us was void and quiet. I knew my sister was upset, I could tell by the tone in her voice. But it wasn't easy for me, it wasn't easy to just go home. My memories were so tainted with anger and pain, it was hard to see anything else.

The first half of my life hadn't been easy or kind, and the only good thing that was still there was my sister. Everything else I ran away from, never looking back.

“Okay, I need to get back to work, I'll text you later.”

Hanging up the phone, I spent the rest of the day stewing over what I should do. Kine Valley was a dot on the map, a place that no one knew existed unless you lived there. And all I ever wanted to do was forget that it existed myself.

But Beth was my little sister, and I made her a promise long before I ever promised myself anything. I wouldn't break my promise, not now, not ever. . .

Even if that meant going home one last time.

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