Page 57 of Love Notes & Lifelines
I don’t know what I expected when I went in there. That it would still be a library? It only makes sense that it’s where Cally would take her final breath too.
But the bed, so similar to the one I rolled in for my mother, siphoned the air from my lungs. Memories of crying at mymother’s stiff, gray hand intermingled with images I can conjure of my sister going the same way were suffocating me.
This house—this family—is so fucked up. Is it just biology? Will I fall to the same fate? Do I not have an ounce of loyalty in me either?
Will I pass that on to those innocent girls?
I roar like a werewolf howling at the moon because I can’t get Danica’s words out of my head. Would my sister really do that to me? I cry out when the unfairness of it all becomes too much.
“Why the fuck did you leave everything to Danica, Cally? Why would you do that? Why would you do it to your girls?” When fresh tears fall, I swipe at them angrily. Rage, and pain, and exhaustion—they all steal pieces of me, and I have no outlet to fight back. “Why even leave them with me if you were going to give away their home, the one place that brings them comfort?”
I was in shock in Sterling’s office, and apparently I tuned out a lot of details, otherwise maybe I would have been better prepared for this news. “But God, Cally, why? It doesn’t make any sense.” Anger rises like the tide, and I shout to the sky, “I fucking hate you. I hate you so much.”
Dropping to my knees, I tunnel my fingers into the sand. A light flickers on in the kitchen, casting a long shadow over me. I don’t want to look, but I’m unable not to.
Stella moves around the space with an easy grace. She’s too far away for me to read her expression, but there’s a sadness in the way she carries herself that beckons something dark and growing inside of me.
The lone pendant light over the island calls to the lonely—a lighthouse in the dark.
I continue to stare long after Stella’s out of view.
I was an asshole, and she didn’t deserve it. I have no idea what my future holds anymore, but one thing’s for certain—Stella is as essential to our survival as air, and it scares the hell out of me.
Needing people leads to betrayal every single time.
And she has a secret she won’t share with you.“Yeah,” I say to the wind. “But I wouldn’t share secrets with me either.”
An hour later, I walk on dead legs back to the house.
Tiptoeing up the deck stairs, I leave my sandy shoes on the porch as quietly as possible. The glass door slides open with a low scratching sound that will only get worse if opened any wider. Or at least, it did when I lived here, so I turn sideways to slip inside.
The kitchen is the same as it’s always been. The only upgrades are the appliances. Nostalgia and grief swell at the same time, but I shake them away and wash the sand from my hands in the sink.
Stella must have made dinner. Of course she made dinner. I told her to take care of everything, didn’t I?
Leaning against the sink, I dry my hands with a towel and take in the room that once felt like home. Almost nothing has changed, and it makes me irrationally angry. Life moved on. It should have moved on without me. I moved on without it—without them.
But the only thing out of place is the silver tray covered by a dome lid. It sits in the center of the island, highlighted by the single light source. This is what Stella was doing in here? Leaving me dinner?
Lifting the cover, I find a giant piece of lasagna, garlic bread, and a salad.
My mouth waters and guilt sucks the liquid down greedily with a painful swallow.
Why would she go to that trouble after I told her to do her job like a servant?
Heating it up will only waste time. Suddenly I’m too ravenous to wait, so I carry the entire tray toward the sofa. It hasn’t changed either. It’s big enough for a football team and has cushions you can get lost in—my mother searched for one big enough for this room for two years. She was manic in her search too. It’s strange that I remember that, but not a single family moment that didn’t instill unease. This is where Cally checked in with me every day after school, though, and those are the memories that have been attacking my heart since I walked through the door.
Standing frozen behind the sofa, I realize that heat from the fire warms my face. Stella started a fire too. It’s still early spring, and the ocean air gives the chill more bite.
A dog snuffle catches my attention. Stella is curled up in the V at the end of the sofa with Daisie sprawled out over her feet. Stella lies on her side, hands clenched between her thighs as if she’s cold. She’s so small I’m not surprised I missed her. But it’s the pinch of her brows that hypnotizes me. Her face contorts, then she flinches.
Immediately, I want to slay the dragons in her dreams.
Her eyelids fly open, and we’re caught in this weird trance. She’s sucking in deep, labored breaths, but mine are too shallow. Daisie climbs up to place her head on Stella’s hip. As her eyes focus on me, our breathing evens out, but still, we stare.
Sella sits up and adjusts her shirt.
“Are you okay?” she asks. Her voice is a soft melody that flitters across my skin.
