Page 5 of Was I Ever Free

I try to keep my voice as calm as possible, but deep down I feel the pinpricks of discomfort—no, more like embarrassment, needling my insides. Lenix sits across from me on the couch in my condo. It is in a highrise downtown and used to be my sister’s before she moved in with Connor last year.

Her brown eyes are wide like she has been caught doing something she was not supposed to. “You said you really wanted to go on this road trip…” she says quietly, voice trailing off.

“I can go on my own, I am an adult you know? I cannot believe your solution was to tell Bastian to babysit me as if I was a child.” My tone is bitter and Lenix winces. She is only five years older than me but acts like my mother most of the time, and still carries the guilt of us being apart for thirteen years heavy on her shoulders.

“Lucy… I know you’re not a child, but—but in a lot of ways you’re still very inexperienced. You’ve only been out for like—” She waves her perfectly manicured hand limply in a circle, eyes raised to the ceiling as if trying to count, her gaze then finding mine again. “Fourteen months. That’s nothing.”

I press my lips together and take a deep breath.

I know she is right. It does not make the words sting less.

At twenty-five, I still barely know anything about the outside world. Sacro Nuntio was cut off from everything else surrounding us, tucked and hidden beside the Redwood forest, a few hours away from Noxport. There was electricity, but nothing connected us to the outside. I grew up believing my father’s word was holy. That his presence alone was healing—when in reality it was anything but. When he died my brother Frederick took his place and continued in his egregious footsteps. It took me a lot of time and therapy to process my life in Sacro Nuntio and it is far from over yet. But I have faith that one day I will get there.

Even if I try my best to assimilate, I am still marked as an outsider. Simple things give me away, like not understanding vernacular or idioms, or rarely using contractions when I speak. I have been consciously trying to incorporate them, but it still feels so foreign, that I forget most of the time—especially when my emotions are heightened. Then there is all thestuff. Like the television that I frequently forget to turn on. Or the closet full of clothes Lenix left for me. Most of them are dresses. They sit untouched and unwanted. I was forced to wear dresses my entire life. Now I would rather burn them all. I am not sure I have found my style yet, but for now, jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt will do. Showing any kind of skin was jarring at first, and I am still not as comfortable as my sister. Maybe I never will be. And that is okay too.

Although Lenix still funds most of my life, I need to prove to myself that I can do this on my own. This road trip feels somehow—necessary. A need more than just a want.

“You could have warned me before you asked him at least,” I finally express, a little less aggrieved and more resigned this time.

Lenix’s eyes study me as she stays silent, a wealth of words unspoken as if she is too scared to hurt my feelings.

“I’m sorry, Lucy…” she says softly but sternly. “But there was no way I was letting you leave on your ownacrossthe country. You just got your license. It was this or have Bastian hack your phone and bank account to make sure you wouldn’t leave.” Her voice slightly teasing. “I just got you back. I’m having a hard enough time simply letting you out of my sight, let alone having you disappear for over a month.”

She slides closer to me and takes my hands in hers, squeezing them three times—our secret way to reassure each other. We have been doing it since we were children. We were always the closest of all our sisters and brothers. Polygamy was encouraged, but we were the only two to have the same parents, leading us to share a lot of the same features.

Begrudgingly, I smile. I know she has my best interests in mind, and she has been nothing but supportive, but she has been coddling me. Maybe I needed it at the beginning when life felt insurmountable, my newfound freedom feeling like being given the gift of eyesight, but realizing I still could not see what was right in front of me.

I am better now.

“I need to do this,” I say softly.

My sister’s eyes glimmer with unshed tears, her eyebrows dipping low like she is trying to keep it together. “I know,” she croaks, sliding even closer. “I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.” Her voice quivers, and I swallow down the knot in my throat that is threatening to turn into the same emotions mirrored in Lenix’s expression.

“I know… I love you,” I reply with a watery smile.

“Love you more,” she says with a small winning grin, and I laugh.

Falling into her arms, we hug tightly and I breathe in her soothing scent of vanilla and jasmine. When we let go, she keeps her hands around my shoulders and straightens her arms to look at me.

“My baby is all grown up,” she chirps in a jokingly teary tone.

I swat her away and laugh. “Stop it. You are being embarrassing.”

“Good,” she replies with a wink. “That’s what big sisters are for.”

Lenix stands up, adjusting her red pencil skirt, and smoothing her black hair back in place, before grabbing her purse and phone from the coffee table. “I have a meeting in fifteen, but come over for dinner later? We can talk more about the road trip, then we can order in and force Connor to watch reality TV with us,” she says mischievously.

I let out a small chuckle and walk her to the door. “That sounds lovely.”

She blows me a kiss from the outside hallway and I wave, waiting for her to reach the elevator doors before closing the door behind me.

I lean back on the door and let my head fall with a thud, releasing a long exhale. Now that I am alone with my thoughts, the same embarrassment I felt earlier creeps back up and my face falls into my hands with a groan.

I am going on a month-long road trip withBastian Maxwell.

The man who never speaks, let alone emotes.

I invariably feel awkward around him, Lenix is usually always close by to fill in the deafening silence he carries with him everywhere he goes. He makes me nervous, in a way that Connor and Byzantine never have. His bleached blond hair only makes his dark brows and hardened expression all the more striking. Even though Connor and Byzantine are heavily tattooed and Bastian does not have any—that I know of—he still carries himself with a deadly aura. And now I will be stuck in a car with him, alone for days at a time.

---