Page 5 of Safe With Me
She was my sister, my sissy who’d toddled behind me and been my playmate and even my friend.
And she didn’t care.
Flicking a silk shirt aside, she hefted her bag. “I’ve got to go edit. I’ll see you tomorrow, Han.”
Han. Like nothing had even transpired. Like we were the sisters we’d always been. Frozen, I watched her weave through the store and out into the bright morning sunlight, blonde hair shining like a halo.
A breath finally shuddered free from my lungs, turning into a torn sob when it passed through my throat. I blinked hard and lifted my chin.
For some reason, that first night with Tick flickered through my mind. I needed to be that woman again, the one who didn’t falter at a setback, who spoke truth and didn’t simplyaccepta rejection.
I turned to the messy piles of clothes.
Something needed to change. I just needed to figure out what and how.
This morning, though, the change involved transforming Elizabeth’s path of destruction back to neat order. My hands faltered in slipping a blouse back onto a velvet hanger. If I couldn’t change Elizabeth and I couldn’t change the circumstances at the store . . . maybe I would need to change my life.
Because I didn’t want to be this person any longer. I wanted to beme, authentic and unafraid.
The idea stayed with me, plaguing me at odd moments throughout the hectic day. Maybe that extra uncertainty added to my fatigue, but by the time Daddy and I threw the locks, I was flagging hard. My phone vibrated in my back pocket, and I pulled it free to read Sara’s text.
Mama’s babysitting. Meet us at the Millhouse for dinner.
Before I could type outI’m tired, the device buzzed in my head.
No excuses.
If I said I was tired for real, she’d listen. With that said, I could argue, but . . . it was Sara. No matter what, she always made me feel better. Besides, at the Millhouse, we could send Trace off to talk sports with an acquaintance or to play darts, and I could float ideas about changing my life and Sara would ground me. Plus, she dealt with second graders all day. Maybe she’d have ideas about dealing with my sister.
With the days getting shorter, dusk hovered when I pulled into the parking lot at the Millhouse. Even though it was a weeknight, vehicles packed the lot as usual. Coney was a small town, and the good spots hopped every night.
The front steps gave a familiar creak under my feet, and I smiled. I loved this place, how Greta and Joe had taken an old house and turned it into a beautiful place to eat and hang out and listen to music. Inside, chatter and laughter flowed throughthe rooms. I didn’t see Sara or Trace, so I headed through the big French doors to the expanded deck and backyard area with lights strung among the trees to provide whimsical lighting.
Outside, spotting them didn’t take long, and my stomach swooped to land with a hollow thud.
Trace helped Jase pull a couple of tables together, Elizabeth talking to Sara, hands moving in animated gestures so her engagement and cocktail rings sparked fire under the lights. Tate arranged chairs about the table, and I took a step back. I could slip out, text Sara that I wasn’t coming after all, and–
“Hannah.” Sara waved me toward them, half-turning her back on Elizabeth, and I dragged up a smile, tucking my hair behind my ear as I descended the steps. Elizabeth’s answering smile was almost her old, sweet expression, the real one belonging to the sister I missed before fame and ambition had turned her into someone I only wanted to get away from.
“Hey, you.” Sara pulled me into a hug and moved us toward the table. She was next to Trace, and Elizabeth was next to Jase across from them. Tate jerked his chin at me, a tight, irritated movement. I frowned. Usually, he smiled when he saw me, eyes soft and warm in a way that once upon a time had made me hope. I mentally scanned our texts from the last few days. Why was he put out with me?
Tate dropped into the chair next to Trace, which put me . . . next to my sister and across from him. I’d be able to see his puppy love for Elizabeth up close and personal.
Wonderful.
At one time, I’d respected and idolized Tate Edwards. He worked hard, was good to his family. He was smart and funny, and with dark hair and a pretty boy face, he was good to look at, too. I’d spent long hours building wreaths and making bouquets while building up fantasies about a life with him, making upplans for the two of us, but that had been a long time ago. Somewhere along the way of our friendship, I’d noticed the way he mooned over Elizabeth, and my hope died. Oh, I’m sure no one else saw – the only reason I did was because I watched him all the time, couldn’t take my eyes off him.
But his inability to see Elizabeth as she really was . . . well, unrequited love sours like too-old milk.
Maybe all those emails were right . . . I was jealous of my sister. I wanted Tate Edwards to see me, and all he could see was her.
While we glanced at the menus none of us needed and indulged in a little how-was-your-day chatter, Elizabeth bent over to unzip her bag and set up her little tripod on the table. I tensed, then forced myself to relax. If she angled the camera right, I wouldn’t even be–
Jase tossed down his menu, mouth tight with disgust. “Do we have to do this? Can’t we have one meal in peace?”
She pouted, fiddling with the tripod, and stuck out her tongue at him. “The viewers love it, the small town slice of life.”
An arm hooked over the back of his chair, Jase turned sideways, watching her and putting distance between them at the same time. “We just talked about this today, Elizabeth.”
