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CHAPTER TWO

RIKER

“You want to tell me what the hell that was earlier today?” I shake my head at Nox, just in case he can’t tell from my tone how seriously disappointed I am in him right now. “What? You think she’s cute or something? Like the way she smelled? Or maybe you just want to nibble on her soft skin a little.”

I’m mocking him.

I’m not mocking him.

He’s a fucking horse. I’m mocking my damn self.

“Well, whatever the hell it was, you better forget about it.” I lean against the wall of his stall and watch him continue to grind his grain between his teeth like I’m not even here. It’s all he ever does. Pretend I’m not here. And I’m the one he hates the least. Until today. Until her.

“I mean it, Nox. Whatever ideas are floating around that big-ass head of yours, let ’em go. Because she’s already gone. And she ain’t comin’ back.”

QUINN

“You’re being awfully quiet.” Kirsten’s always had a thing about pointing out the obvious. It’s kind of a family joke. One she’s not aware of, so I’m super bummed I have no one to chuckle with right now. Not that I’m in the mood to chuckle. Not much in the mood to talk either, hence the being quiet, but I have a feeling my sister’s going to override my desire for silence.

“Just winding down. All those kids and moms all afternoon was a lot to process.” I stare out the Beemer window and hope this’ll be the end of it.

“We were barely there for three hours. How strenuous could that have been, Quinn?”

I’d really like to point out that Sophie is crashed out in the back seat right now, so I’m clearly not the only one who found the day to be exhausting, but then I realize comparing myself to a five-year-old is the sort of thing Kirsten would love to do for me, so I really won’t be doing myself any favors by doing so.

“Kirsten, I don’t want to go over this with you again. Mostly because I don’t know how many different ways to explain it to you.” Begrudgingly, I shift around to face her. “I understand that you mean well, I really do. And I appreciate everything you’re doing to include me in your group of friends. But it doesn’t matter how nicely you dress me up or how often you tell everyone about my time doing ‘missionary work overseas.’” I use my fingers for quotation marks on that one. I’m still stunned every time I hear her tellthatstory. “I’m never going to fit in. And, frankly, pretending to is exhausting. But I do. I do it for you. I know how important it is for you that people think I’m just your normal, run-of-the-mill girl, so I pretend. I act as normal as I can. But you have to know thatyournormal is not normal forme. It’s never going to be. Ever again.”

“Don’t say that.” Her pointy little nose scrunches up in disgust. “It’s only been a few months. Just give it some more time.”

“No. You’re not listening to me.” I bury my face in my hands. “That girl you think is going to make a reappearance after enough of an adjustment period? She’s dead. She doesn’t exist anymore. This”—I stab myself hard in the chest with both pointer fingers—“this girl, this anti-social, swears too much and can’t ever say the right thing anymore girl, is all that’s left. And you need to either accept it or tell me you can’t.”

My sister is staring straight ahead at the empty road. “And what if I can’t? Huh? Then what? You leave? I can’t lose you all over again, Quinn.” A tear trickles down her cheek.Shit.This is the last thing I wanted. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’m putting too much pressure on you, but you’re my sister. Whatever hell you went through while you were gone, it was hell for me too. And I get that you came back all jaded and broken and...and lost. But I don’t see why that has to be a permanent condition. You’re twenty-two for Christ’s sake. You have your whole life ahead of you.” She sniffles and presses her lips together. “So I don’t care if you’ve given up. I don’t care if you think this, this semi-lifeless ‘the whole world is gray’ Quinn is all that survived. You’re wrong. And I’m going to keep having faith that the old you is still in there. And when she’s brave enough, she’ll come out again.”

I want to tell her she’s fooling herself. Truthfully, I want to scream it. But I don’t. I just nod and let her think I’m agreeing with her, or at the very least considering the possibility, and then I go straight back to gazing blankly out the window. It’s been two months and watching the constant greenery fly by still fascinates me. The simple things. Those are the only things that matter to me now. Everything else just leads to trouble.

True to the roots of our relationship, Kirsten and I spend the remainder of the drive home in silence. It’s the only way we can both convince ourselves we each won the argument, and we’re both okay with that.

Thankfully, it’s just a ten-minute cruise up the main drag before I see the driveway that winds its way up to the Bernheimer mansion. I’m not exaggerating, either. The place has seven bedrooms and nine bathrooms. And when they bought it a year ago, there were only three of them: Kirsten, Sophie, and Kirsten’s husband, Nate.

But I know my sister. The second Nate came home with the promotion and the news that they’d be moving back to his home state, she undoubtedly got online, found the most obnoxious, most expensive house she could find, and made it part of her negotiations. Because leaving Calabasas, California, for some rinky-dink beach town in North Carolina would have seemed an unbearable sacrifice. She would have made sure she got something out of it. Even if it was something she didn’t actually want or need. Like this big-ass house.

I’m not complaining, though. It took me all of twenty-four hours to figure out how to move around the place without ever having to cross paths with anyone if I didn’t want to. And that was definitely a plus in my book.

Kirsten pulls the car into their massive six-car garage and sighs loudly. Just in case I forgot how much I’m wearing on her. I didn’t.

“I’m going to take Sophie inside and let her finish her nap on the sofa in the family room. Think you can manage bringing in the stuff from the trunk?”

I nod. “No problem. Where do you want it all?” We’re talking piles upon piles of horsey-themed presents that inexplicably all have the color pink in common.

“The den will work. That way I can get to work on the thank you cards right away.” She’s already out of her seat and walking toward the back to retrieve Sophie, who’s sleeping in such an odd position I can only imagine the cramp she’s going to have in her neck when she wakes up.

“The den it is.” Because we wouldn’t want to fall behind on doing proper things like sending out thank you cards. I shake my head and shudder ever so slightly. Honestly, I don’t even know who this old Quinn is that Kirsten is so desperate to get back. Even in my most unscathed and undamaged condition, I was never anything like this girl she’s trying to revive now.

It takes me ten minutes to unload everything and stack it along the den’s back wall. When I wander into the kitchen, Kirsten is already in full dinner mode. She’s wearing an apron and everything. I don’t know where she gets it from. The only one who ever wore an apron around our house growing up was our dad when it came time to break out the grill. And it was a highly inappropriate one he won at some stupid game during my uncle’s bachelor party. My mom always hated it. But that never stopped him from wearing it.

“Sophie still passed out?” I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s pretty clear from the deafening silence around here that she’s sleeping.

“Sure is. All that ranch work today wiped her out. I don’t know how you used to do it day in and day out. I got tired just watching the kids ride for half an hour today.” She chuckles as she snaps the end off another green bean.

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