I woke on a pillow that smelled like Mira’s honey-scented shampoo. I stripped the bed and threw everything in the wash—hot water and an extra pod—as though washing my sheets will help scrub her from my mind.
Now I’m sitting at my kitchen counter staring at the steam rising off my black coffee. The coffee that has done nothing to wake me up after a long, restless night. I’ve been fixating on the fact I’ve probably finally found my father. I don’t know where to go now, and I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I should say anything or if it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.
I don’t know if the man has a family. I have no clue what I’d be interrupting. I don’t know a fucking thing.
But Mira did. She knew everyone’s situation perfectly and opted to keep me in the dark. She let me spill my guts to her. She let me expose all my inner misery, and she did nothing to ease that.
She made me care for her. She wiggled her way into my life. She made me want things I wasn’t sure I’d ever want. And then she turned around and ruined it all with her dishonesty.
Letting her go should be simple. A clear-cut choice. An obvious answer. But I feel like I’m sitting here sawing off a perfectly good limb.
It hurts. More than I thought it would. More than I knew it could.
Quiet footsteps pull me from my moping as Nadia pads across the kitchen straight toward the coffee maker.
With her back to me I say, “Sorry I left you last night.”
“It’s okay. Mira drove me back.”
I sigh and scrub at my face. “I’m sorry I have such a terrible habit of leaving you behind.”
My sister turns, her golden curls a wild mess in a bun on top of her head. “I wish you’d forgive yourself. Do you have any idea how much happier you’d be if you stopped blaming yourself for all the bad things that happened to us in our lives? They aren’t worth it. Not even a little bit. Don’t let them keep the power. I want you to be happy. I hold nothing against you. Yes, I was stuck with them for longer before I left, but you’re still stuck there in that house even though you’re standing here before me.”
I swallow. I am. I live in that house every damn day. I relive it. I’m trapped there, and I’ve made it my life’s mission to undo everything he did—but at what cost? Who am I really punishing? Constantin is dead in the ground on the other side of the world.
My mom is in the lake.
And Nadia is sitting here. Giving me advice that is wise beyond her years.
“I know we don’t have the same dad.”
“Pardon?”
“Look at us, Stefan. I’m a dead ringer for Mom. You look like you belong to the milk man. Or as it’s currently looking, the barn manager down the road.”
“Jesus. You have no filter, do you?”
She smiles, wide and cheesy, not looking the least bit upset about this conversation. “Unapologetic honesty. You should try it some time.”
I groan, scrubbing at my face even harder. “Fuck.”
“Oh, wow.” She lifts the steaming mug up to her lips and bats her lashes. “Things must be bad if Mr. Proper is swearing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For…” God, where do I even start. “The course your life has taken.”
She scrunches her face and shakes her head like I’ve said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I’m not. Not everything happens for a reason. Some things happen because we make the conscious decision to stop letting shit happen to us. And no matter what, you’re my brother. We’re family. DNA doesn’t change a damn thing.”
I swallow. My little sister is usually nonchalant. Carefree. A pain in my ass. But today she feels more like a big sister, hitting me with all the things I need to hear.
“Don’t blow it with Mira.”
Except that. I don’t want to hear that.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Her brow arches. “You spew an awful lot of bullshit for someone who goes on about valuing honesty.”
“I—”
One hand shoots up to stop me. “Stefan, stop. I know you guys are together. She told us.”
My stomach bottoms out. “What?”
“Yeah. Girls’ night. Billie said something bitchy about you, and Mira wasn’t having it. Told us all that you guys were a thing. Or whatever. I stopped listening because it was gross—you’re still my brother.” She shudders.
She told them. I was certain she planned on keeping us a secret. She’s so hard to get a read on. She keeps her cards so close. Why wouldn’t she have told me this? That was the night I showed up at her apartment because she missed me.
“At any rate,” my sister continues, “don’t let her get away. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to you. And you have a bad habit of not letting good things happen to yourself.”
The doorbell rings, effectively cutting off our conversation. Which works for me because I’m still irrationally angry with Mira. I’m still not ready to forgive her.
I don’t know if I can.
But all thoughts of Mira flee my mind when I swing the front door open and stare back into eyes that are exactly like mine. I’ve never taken a very close look at Hank. The dark golden hair swooped back off his face, the deep lines on his tan skin from years spent in the sun, his broad shoulders and trim waist. He’s fit for his age—whatever that is. Strong in a way only a lifetime of manual labor can achieve.
“I have a feeling that you and I should chat.”
He smiles, but it’s a nervous smile. Not the typical happy-go-lucky grin that I’ve seen him sporting. The man couldn’t be less like Constantin if he tried. Looks wise, personality wise, life wise. It’s something I instantly love about him.
I give him a nervous smile of my own. “Come on in.” I hold the door open wide and gesture with my arm for him to enter. “Coffee?” I ask, walking away toward the kitchen, trying to catch my breath and looking for something to fix the dry throat situation I have going.
“Got anything harder?” Hank chuckles.
I’ve never heard a better idea in my life. Instead of reaching for the coffee, I reach into the cupboard above the sink and pull out a bottle of bourbon and two whiskey glasses.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.” I hold them up and face the man who is most likely my father.
He chuckles again. It’s warm and comforting, and genuinely happy. I ache for that sound. The sound I missed growing up. And when he winks at me, my mind flashes with moments in my life when I missed that exact look. My graduation. Swim meets. I could have had that.
I clear my throat and will the emotion clouding my eyes away. “Living room is that way.”
Once we’re both seated on the plush leather couches with a healthy two-finger pour of whiskey in hand, Hank leans back, arm over the back of the couch, and lets his eyes soak me in. I can feel him analyzing me, cataloguing our similarities with a small, sad smile on his lips. I wonder how this must feel for him.
I’m about to ask when he says, “So, Stefan, tell me about your life.”
And I do. I start at the very beginning, and I leave absolutely nothing out.
I’m drunk. It’s eleven a.m. on a Wednesday, and I’m drunk.
With my dad.
Talk about things I never thought would happen. We’re both pretty sure he’s my dad. The timing works out. We’ll get a DNA test done to confirm. It all makes sense. Except my mom’s decisions. Those will never make sense to me. Hank says he begged her to stay. He says he loved her.
That part was hard to hear.
Just like me, having to tell him what became of her life was hard for him to hear. I’m not above admitting that we both shed a few tears over the course of our two-hour conversation. We have that in common too, I guess.
And now, we’re walking down the driveway toward the farm, both a bit tipsy, because Hank wants to see Loki.
“See that lake?” I point to the small body of water at the base of the valley. “Or pond? Slough? I call it a lake, but maybe it’s too small.”
“It can be whatever you want it to be.” Hank laughs, hands in his pockets, strolling down the driveway with a tipsy grin on his face.
His smile melts off the minute I drunkenly blurt out, “That’s where I spread her ashes.”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his eyes gaze out over the sparkling water reflecting the clouds on its still surface. “I think she’d have loved it here.” His voice is thick with emotion, and I instantly regret saying anything. I immediately start beating myself up about it, staring at the ground, wondering why I would blurt that out. I’m so accustomed to walking on eggshells around people that I’m taken by surprise when a warm hand lands on my shoulder.
“Thank you for telling me.” He smiles a real smile. “It’s nice to know where she is.”
I feel like a little kid. A sad little kid with daddy issues basking in the glow of someone with kind hands and a friendly face. I’ve spent so many years dreaming of this day, and somehow it still doesn’t seem real. I feel like I’m hovering above, looking down at myself.
And it’s not just the whiskey.
We walk side by side in a companionable silence until we reach the stable parking lot and come face to face with Mira’s big Gold Rush Veterinary Services truck parked in front of the large sliding doors.
I go rigid and stop in my tracks. I’m not prepared to see her. I have too many feelings to process first. I said things last night I wish I hadn’t said. Things I’m not ready to apologize for yet. To be honest, I’m still not sure they warrant an apology.
I still can’t believe she kept this to herself.
I catch sight of her in Farrah and Loki’s paddock, doing her daily check, stooped down over her workbox full of needles and bottles.
“You should talk to her,” Hank says.
“I…” I get lost soaking up the expression of concentration on her face. The way her intelligent eyes dart around, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip while she looks for something. My first instinct is to rush over and help her.
I wonder if that need will ever wane.
“I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“I’m not telling you what you need to say to her. Only that you need to talk to her. You both need closure. If that’s what you want. She’s a tough cookie. She’s not an open book, but she has a good heart. She came to your defense on more than one occasion. That woman cares about you. Don’t doubt that for a moment. Because we all only have so many moments left to live.” He looks over at the lake thoughtfully before adding, “I’m going to go have a chat with your mom.”
And with one final squeeze of my shoulder, he’s gone, strolling away like giving fatherly advice is something he’s been doing for me my entire life.
His movement catches Mira’s attention, and she stands abruptly to stare at him before her eyes search the driveway for me. And when her eyes meet mine, emotion moves between us. There’s always been a palpable tension between Mira and I—something that hasn’t lessened just because I broke it off last night.
It might even be stronger. It feels like there’s an elastic between us, and I’ve pulled it taut by yanking myself away. I wonder if the more I pull away, the harder we’ll collide.
I wonder if we’ll survive the collision.
“Hi,” she says tentatively as I move toward her.
“Hey.” My voice is slightly slurred, and I stop a few meters away.
I don’t trust myself to get any closer, and at least this proximity has eased the throbbing in my chest. As long as I don’t get lost in her eyes. Her wide onyx eyes, the ones that give everything away lately. Every thought and feeling. Every insecurity.
Today they look sad. Devastated even.
We stare at each other stupidly. Awkwardly. Two intelligent adults who’ve shared one another’s deepest, darkest secrets and still can’t think of a damn thing to say.
“I need you to listen to me. I don’t need you to respond. I don’t even need you to understand. I just want the opportunity to present my reasoning for what I did. Then I’ll leave. I promise.”
All I can offer her is a terse nod.
With a deep sigh she starts in, her hand gently scratching at Farrah’s ear. “I didn’t know Hank being your father was even a possibility until the night we drove back from my parents’ place. When you told me what your mom said. The only connection I had to go on was that he’d been a bartender in town. I knew Hank had bartended before he started working here. But Stefan,” she pauses, looking at me imploringly, “there has been a lot more than one bartender in town over the years.”
I know she’s right, but I just keep staring.
“I had no idea if there were more bars or restaurants in town back then. It didn’t have to be Neighbors. I suspected, but what was I supposed to do? Get your hopes up when it could be nothing? Tell Hank, who is almost like family to me, that maybe I was on to something?”
“Yes, Mira. Either of those options would have been preferable.”
Her hands land on her hips, and her eyes swim with sadness. “And who should I have told first? Who is entitled to my completely unfounded hypothesis? I asked you about your mom for more information. Even just her name. And then last night, my plan was to ask Hank if he knew her.”
“Wow, you really had this all planned out.” My voice is cutting. I hate feeling like she was plotting something behind my back.
She ignores the dig, but I don’t miss the tears that spring to her eyes.
“This was so not any of my business. I was trying to make responsible decisions with big information. It’s not in me to run around spouting a theory without any good evidence. My brain doesn’t work like that. I didn’t know how quickly things between us would”—she sighs and looks up at the puffy clouds overhead—“evolve. I didn’t see you coming, Stefan. Not like this. And I couldn’t tell Hank because that would break your confidence in me. And I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you if I was wrong.” Her voice cracks on the last few words, and she looks away, foot tapping against the ground anxiously. “Believe me when I say that I was trying to protect you.”
“You hurt me anyway.”
Any happy buzz I had before has leached into the ground at my feet. Now, I feel monumentally depressed. I’d have to be an idiot to not see her point. But it doesn’t change the result. She lied to me, kept a secret, and I can’t get over that hurdle. But pain traces her every feature. I want to wrap her in my arms and kiss away every hurt, but my pride won’t let me. The sad little boy inside me won’t allow it.
I lean into that childish side of myself when I respond in a wooden tone, “I… I need some time to wrap my head around everything.” Her lashes flutter in a failed attempt to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you for explaining your line of thinking.”
She sucks in air like she can’t breathe. There’s so much pain there, and I hate thinking I caused it for her. I never wanted to hurt Mira, but I’m feeling too fragile to save us both. I want to be able to let it go, but my mother’s betrayal is a wound that’s been freshly ripped open. The truth of the matter is, I’m not in the right headspace to make big decisions. And Mira might be the most important decision I’ve ever had to make.
“Thank you for hearing me out.” Her broken voice is a searing lance to my heart, but I knock it away. I can’t afford a killing blow right now. “I don’t think Loki will require regular checkups anymore, so you won’t have to worry about seeing me.”
“Perfect,” is my quick response.
And I instantly want to take it back. I meant perfect that he’s better, not that I won’t have to see her. That part stings in a way I didn’t expect.
A few minutes ago, she asked me to hear her out, and hope welled in her eyes.
Now, thanks to me, it’s spilling down her cheeks.
