Page 27 of Pretty Heartache

I think back to the other night when we shared dinner. Even through the shield he holds up, I saw vulnerability and softness that made me feel more comfortable and more at ease than I’ve felt in a long time.

“I’ve only been here a few days, but I’m happy here,” I reassure her.

She nods slowly, letting my confession sink in.

“Hmm.” Ember twists her mouth in thought then rushes out of the living room and stands at the bottom of the stairs. She cranes her neck as if it will help her get another look at Micah, even though he isn’t anywhere in sight. I follow her, tugging on her hand and urging her to return to the living room.

She resists, tightening her grip onto the wooden railing. I pull on her wrist again, but she’s stubbornly glued to the banister.

Teasing, she scrunches her nose and giggles. “Damn, Micah’s changed, hasn’t he? How is it possible he’s gotten hotter in his old age?” She’s whispering, but she may as well be yelling. My insistence in trying to get her to move only makes her laugh louder. It echoes and bounces off the walls of the open-vaulted ceiling.

“He isn’t old, Ember,” I hiss. “Now, would you shut up and stop staring up the stairs like a creep?”

She laughs again, finally giving in to my efforts. Light on her feet, she stumbles away from the bottom of the stairs and falls back onto the sofa. “How old is he now? Thirty?”

I sit beside her and place my hands in my lap. We both keep our eyes focused on the front bay window. “Thirty-three.” I’m still whispering, my cheeks redder at the thought of him hearing Ember’s teasing.

“Right. He’s twelve years older. I don’t think it matters as much now than when we were kids.”

“Doesn’t change the fact he’s Archer’s best friend.” I relax against the back of the sofa.

Tucking one leg under the other, she twists to face me. “Him being Archer’s best friend never mattered before.”

“You’re talking about this as if I still have the same feelings I did for him when I was a kid, Ember. I’m not eleven years old anymore. We’re two completely different people, and I’ve grown up.”

“Exactly.” She nods. A slow smile creeps along her mouth as she leans forward. “You can’t tell me you haven’t imagined how it would feel like to have him call you ‘good girl’with a voice like that.”

“Oh, my God, Ember!” I squeal, shooting up to stand. With my heart pounding, I peek back up the stairs before my hardened stare slices back to Ember. “You are the worst.”

“Why?” She stands, bringing her face close to mine. “Because I tell the truth and call it how I see it?”

“No, because you’ve never had any tact.”

“You’re right, but some situations call for honesty.”

“Well, you may be honest, but your delivery is poor.”

“I only tell you the truth because I love you.” Her expression softens, and she reaches out, wrapping her hand around my arm. “You’ve been a sister to me, Adeline.”

“And you’ve been mine.”

Although my parents never had any other children after me, I often wished I had someone to grow up with. Hours were spent huddled in my room after my father laid into me for being a disappointment. Because there were twelve years between Archer and me, he felt like I was born solely to hold him back. With me, he had to start over. With me, I was another expense. With me, he couldn’t focus all his attention on moving up in the ranks of government. He may have made it to district attorney of Massachusetts, but he was always hungry for more, and he spent every single day of my childhood reminding me why he hated me.

While I used to be holed up in my room, I dreamed of having a sister, a friend. Even though I had a sibling, I couldn’t confide in Archer. Our father made sure to stay in his ear, convincing him my life at home was just as beautiful as the one he was raised in.

But Ember was there when I felt alone. She filled the hole I felt when I stepped out of that house. A confidante and a friend; she’s been a sister to me.

“I’m glad you’re happy here.” Ember’s smile falls. “But still, I want you to be careful. A Harding will always be a Harding, no matter how much time has passed.”

“Okay,” I scoff, pushing her away. “One second you’re teasing me about him calling me a ‘good girl’,and now you’re warning me not to get too close.”

“I’m familiar with their kind, Adeline. Micah is and always will be a rich boy, no matter how old he is. He’s a product of the life he grew up in.”

I bite the tip of my tongue and stay silent. I can’t help but wonder if she thinks the same about me. Does she think I’m a product of my upbringing?

Ember comes from a family like mine: privileged. The only difference is Ember’s parents constantly showered her with love.

Is she the product of her upbringing?

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