Page 10 of Always a Chance
She drove forward, shaking her head. “It’s only been a few weeks, Tali.”
My heart clenched, knowing my sister couldn’t feel the difference between two weeks and two years while her memory came and went. She was like a kid who couldn’t read a clock, so they ignored it instead.
The main floor master suite was now converted into an accessible bedroom with a wide doorway, some kind of contraption that helped her in and out of the wheelchair, and all sorts of physical therapy equipment. “Felina is off this week, so Dad took me to work with him.” Felina was her day nurse. Gianna wheeled to where a fat white cat rested on a pillow at the end of her bed. His long white hair was tipped with orange, as if his creator wanted to infuse a bit of fire into him.
He hadn’t needed to.
“Hi, buddy.” I reached out to pet him, and he hissed, swatting my hand away before curling up and closing his eyes.Cackling came from beside me, and I gave Gianna a wry laugh. “You think that’s funny?”
She nodded, trying and failing to bite back a grin. “Milo doesn’t like Talia.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
A knock on the bedroom door brought my attention to my dad watching us, no expression on his face. “Talia, are you staying?”
They were the first words he’d said to me, stilted and unsure. “If that’s okay.”
He nodded. “I’ll take your bag to the guest room.” He left as silently as he’d come.
Guest room. Once upon a time, it had been mine. “I’m going to get some PJs on, then I’ll help you into bed.”
“Can we read?”
“Sure.” I ruffled her hair on my way by. When I reached my room upstairs, my dad had come and gone. The duffel sat on the floor next to the twin bed covered in a bright yellow and green comforter. Nothing here ever changed, like it was stuck in a single moment in time.
Flopping onto my bed face first, I went over everything I knew to be true. Coming home was always hard. Dad could barely look at me. Gianna missed me. And Johnny hated me.
Was I missing anything?
6
JOHNNY
When I promised Gianna I’d stop by on her birthday, I never imagined the possibility of running into Talia. This wasn’t supposed to be her town anymore. She had the big city, where she could get lost in the crowd, as she’d always preferred. Gulf City belonged to me.
Well, not only to me, but the rational part of my brain was on vacation.
This morning, I woke up to an apology text from Sheryl Miterson, the woman who was supposed to be me, or at least my face. The publisher had hired her soon before my first book was released, and I’d hidden behind her since. It sometimes rankled me that her face was on the inside flap of my books, her name attached to the pen name Trinity.
When I saw the words “I’m sorry” on my phone, I Googled my pen name and immediately saw the pictures flooding social media. Sheryl went to dinner with a friend, some actor the paparazzi loved. So, now, I was apparently dating some blond guy with too many muscles and dull eyes.
I’d tried to make a joke of it, saying the guy wasn’t even my type, but that didn’t help the tightness inside my chest. A little voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like my brother Tanner whispered, “This is what you get for lying, you knucklehead.”
So, it was that sort of day. The kind where Mariana had sold out of my favorite pastries seconds before I got to the bakery and a cold April rain dampened the shirt I took way too long picking out.
If I had a choice, I’d turn right around and keep myself away until Talia left. But when it came to Gianna, there was no choice. This was for her.
Drawing in a deep breath, I walked up the ramp to the front porch and lifted a hand, only hesitating a moment before knocking. Footsteps sounded on the other side, and I waited, my breath clogging in my throat.
The door opened, and there she was, the girl I’d been desperate to see for years, the woman I wished would leave. She peered at me with narrowed eyes as she blinked away her weariness. Her beautiful dark curls were a sleep-mussed nest settling around her face.
A blush rose in the russet-brown skin of her cheeks. I wanted to know why, to be inside her head when she looked at me.
She cleared her throat, and I shifted, realizing I hadn’t taken my eyes from her and yet also hadn’t said a word. “I’m here for…” The intensity of her gaze halted my words.
Talia always had a way of looking at a person like whatever they had to say was important, like it mattered, and she would squeeze out every last word, every last secret. It was what made journalism such a fit for her. I tugged at my damp t-shirt. “It’s raining.”
“I see that.” One corner of her mouth curved up. “It’s good to see your observation skills are as strong as ever.”
