Page 9 of Regrets

Watery tears fill her eyes, and she shakes her head. “You have to look after Penelope. She needs you. And you’re the only one who can.”

Please take care of her Linc. Watch over her. He would want you to.

My mother’s words echo in my head, and I feel the anger rise. “What do you want me to do, Lola? Lock her in her room? She’s a grown woman. She’s not fucking married.”

“But you know she would have been or at least engaged.” Her gaze locks on mine. “If she’s really, . . .” Lola pauses as if it’s too horrible to imagine Penelope fucking random guys. “If she’s acting out, it’s because she’s hurting, Lincoln. She needs you.”

“I’m right fucking here.”

She shakes her head. “You’re not though.” She walks to me and places a hand on my shoulder. “You’re hurting too.”

I’m not doing this.

I shrug out of her touch and walk to the glass doors, looking out over the backyard and the lake.

She joins me. “I don’t know how you can live here. The view of the lake is eerie for me now.”

I can’t take my eyes off the water. “I like it.”

My sister places her hand on my shoulder again, and I don’t pull away. “Don’t hurt her.”

I swallow, letting the lump in my throat bob. “She’s not my responsibility. I let her move in like you and Mom begged me to do, but I’m not keeping her on a leash.”

The truth is a part of me hates Penelope. It’s painful to be near her, and that pain always comes out in anger. I can’t help but hurt her.

“I think you can heal each other.”

“There’s no healing in either of our futures.” I turn directly to her. “The sooner you get that, the better.”

“He wouldn’t want this.”

“Don’t.”

It’s a warning, one not meant to hurt, but I can’t talk about him, and she knows that. I’ve made it clear.

“It’s his birthday tomorrow.”

I look out the glass, focusing on the water, placing my hand on the door frame and fighting the urge to scream.

“Please go.”

She sniffles. I know I’ve caused her to cry, but I can’t look at her.

“I love you, Lincoln. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I nod but don’t look at her as she leaves my house. I hear the door click shut, but I can’t move.

Colt’s birthday.

It’s not a date I’ll ever forget, along with a few others.

I hear the door open. I know, by the brashness and clanking of the keys dropping on the floor, the sheer sloppiness of the entrance, it’s Penelope. She’s drunk, for sure, and angry.

Because it’s a date she’ll never forget either, one that at one time held happy memories.

I turn to face her, seeing I was right. Her eyes are red and bloodshot, her hair is a fucking mess as she sways near the door and places her hand on the table in the hall to steady herself. “Was that Lola’s car?”

I nod. “Yeah. You didn’t stop to say ‘hey’?” It’s sarcastic because I know there’s no way in hell she would ever want Lola to see her like this.

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