Page 8 of Kissed and Missed

I wince. “Len, I’m so sorry.”

My sister scoffs. “Then stop pretending everything is going to be just fine. My tendon wasshredded. My career is over. Fake optimism is just rubbing salt in the wound.”

It takes a lot to keep my expression neutral, or to not take her vicious, bitter tone too seriously. Nothing I say is right, but I can’t blame her for lashing out. Only four days ago, Leni was preparing for the biggest performance of her life, living her dream in New York City. Now, she’s crashing in Sophie’s bedroom, and can’t even walk to the bathroom without crutches.

I stare at the floor, hugging myself. “I’m so sorry, Len.”

Leni’s lips flatten, but she won’t look at me. “Just go. Don’t worry, I have my first appointment with thetherapist,” she spits the word like it’s something foul, “Dad hired in the morning, and he said he would get me an apartment while I figure stuff out. I won’t be your problem for long.”

“You can stay as long as you want?—”

Leni snatches her phone off the bed beside her and turns her attention to the screen, lips pulled flat. “Get out, Honor. Seriously. I can’t do this right now.”

My shoulders are heavy as I back out of the room, closing the door behind me with a quiet thud. The air in the apartment is cold and stale, evidence of my and Sophie’s absence over the last few days.

When we knew she would be discharged soon, Dad wanted Leni to come back to his house to recover, since going back to her tiny apartment in New York (shared with three other dancers) was out of the question. Unfortunately, he chose to propose this just as Sophie reentered the room, bearing a tray laden with coffee for all of us. The look he gave her was so gooey, anyone would think she’d returned from a month-long voyage, not a fifteen-minute foray to the hospital cafeteria.

I don’t pretend to know what my sister is thinking most of the time. We’re very different people, and always have been. In that moment, however, when I caught sight of Leni’s pained expression, I had a burst of sisterly intuition. Nobody wants to have a front-row seat to somebody else’s happiness when they’re miserable.

Luckily for Len, I am also relatively miserable, and she doesn’t need to worry about me rubbing her face in my contentment. So, here we are. Sophie, staying with Dad—both of whom had a very difficult time pretending they weren’t happy about this arrangement—and Leni staying with me. Indefinitely.

For lack of anything better to do, I trudge back down the hall to the living room and collapse on the couch, hollowed out with exhaustion. Strong, smart, fearless Leni has always been the one givingmesupport and reminding me everything will turn out just fine. Now, my little sister is having her first major life crisis, her first experience of true grief, and I have no idea what to say to help her.

I’ve never felt so helpless.

Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I let my head drop back against the couch, forcing myself to take long, even breaths through my nose.

This will pass.

I won’t always be this lonely.

Len is going to recover and find a new path.

Julian Ballard isn’t going to haunt me forever.

It occurs to me that my well-practiced anxiety spiral mantra seems to be getting longer and longer as, slowly, I lift my head. My hands drop back into my lap as I stare unseeingly out the big sliding glass door at the back of the apartment. Things have been so stressful over the last few days, I haven’t had time to dwell on my last conversation with Julian. He texted me a few times, but despite writing a reply to each, I never pressed send.

Was he hurt I didn’t want to video chat with him?

A lump rises in my throat at the thought. Despite his wealth, I suspect there aren’t a lot of people who care about Julian Ballard for something other than his money. Either they’re wildly intimidated—like I was before we met—or opportunistic, and trying to use their association with him for their gain. Including his own daughter.

How could I have dated someone like that fortwo years?

I pull my knees up to my chest as my eyes begin to burn. Meeting her father eclipsed it so thoroughly that in the months since our breakup, I haven’t thought a lot about my ex-girlfriend. My relationship with Riley was never great, but just like with my lackluster job, I pushed forward anyway. Now, all I’m left with is the lesson that working hard at a relationship doesn’t make it right, and a heartache for a lonely billionaire I can’t have.

I miss him. So much. Too much.

It’s like those few days in California woke something up in me, and it isn’t going back to sleep. This friendship, relationship, whatever it is, won’t end well. I’ll likely hate myself for itsomeday, but after a few days of attempting to put distance between us, I know it’s a lost cause. The thought of cutting it out of my life—cuttinghimout of my life—is too painful for words.

For better or worse, I want him.

My hand trembles as I take out my phone, and the moment I press the tiny “call” button on Julian Ballard’s contact, I’m gripped by the sudden, overpowering impulse to fling the thing across the room. Maybe he’s angry with me for ghosting him and won’t even pick up. Even so, I bring the phone to my ear, and my chest is tight as it rings once, twice, then—“Honor.”

Just hearing him say my name is enough to demolish the willpower I was using to keep my emotions in check. It’s overwhelming, the sadness and relief that hit me all at once, so powerful I can barely breathe. My hand covers my mouth as I struggle to get it together enough to reply.

God, why did he have to be Riley’s dad? Why couldn’t he have beenanyoneelse?

“Hi,” I say at last, and my voice wavers. “I’m sorry I didn’t… that I was out of touch.”

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