Page 57 of From West, With Regret

“I know you can do it,” I reassure her.

She nods once, then leaves me with nothing.

My sister has always kept her thoughts and secrets toherself. Growing up, she kept a journal with a tiny gold lock and key, refusing to tell me where she hid the key. One day, I snuck into her room and searched everywhere for it, to no avail.

Now she keeps the lock and key around her heart.

I guess the same could be said for me. I want to open up to my sister, but I still haven’t worked out my feelings. I want to tell her that I have feelings for West, but that there’s something inside me preventing me from giving in completely. How can I tell her that when I barely understand it myself?

The longer the silence lingers, the tighter I wring my fingers. The dream is still there, but the events that unfolded in the storeroom of The Veiled Door come rushing back.

I think I’m falling for West.

That’s what I want to tell my sister.

Well, I didn’t mean to say IthinkI’ve fallen for him. I know I have.

Is what I would clarify to her if I spoke my truth out loud.

It isn’t that I don’t want to tell her what’s going on with me, but just like it is with West, it’s impossible to explain when you don’t understand the meaning yourself.

Selene crosses the living room, surprising me when she wraps her arms around me as if she’s reading my mind. She knows I want to tell her everything but doesn’t beg for an explanation. She simply wants me to know she’s here for me. I wrap my arms around her, relishing her embrace. When the world feels so lost, I at least know I have my sister.

“I’m here for you, London,” she mutters against my shoulder.

“Same here.” I bury my face against her shoulder and into her blonde hair. She smells of vanilla and warmth. “I’m proud of you,” I tell her, breathing her in. Even if I can’t wrap my mind around my feelings for West right now, I allow my sister’s love towrap around me. “My sister wrote a book!” I gush, shoving my restless, haunting thoughts aside.

“Thank you.” She chuckles, pulling away. She tilts her head and grins softly. “Let’s go back to bed.”

“Sounds good.”

We link arms and walk back down the hallway toward the tiny bedroom we share. Although I know this isn’t permanent, I wonder how long I’ll be staying here. I’ve been saving the money I’ve set aside in my separate bank account—the one Heath didn’t have access to—slowly adding to it over these past couple of weeks. West and I still haven’t settled on payment for my works, though that’s the last thing on my mind when it comes to him.

One day soon, I plan on moving out of here.

My sister and I climb into her bed, and we turn our backs to one another.

“Goodnight, London,” Selene whispers. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I gently say over my shoulder.

I tuck my hands under my head and stare at the brick wall again. It’s still shrouded in darkness, but West’s face is no longer there.

Real West, nor dream West.

My eyes grow heavy, but nerves still flutter in my stomach at the memory of my dream reeling in my mind.

I reach for my phone and unlock my screen. It’s almost three in the morning, and even though my eyes felt heavy before I laid back down, I can’t shut off my thoughts.

Opening Instagram, I immediately search West’s name. His correct name.

Weston Knight.

His account is the first to pop up, and I scroll through his posts. There aren’t many, and most are of his bars throughout the city. Some I have yet to visit.

My thumb stops over a single picture of him. The one he did for the cover of Holt’s magazine, when he was featured for being a rising star in the nightlife community.

Heat climbs up my throat, and every drop of water from earlier is gone.

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