Chapter Thirteen
When I’m on the sidewalk, I’m suddenly paranoid that Isaac’s sister will be waiting. That she’ll see she got to me, and then she’ll do it again. It’s funny, because I’m the same person who would grab a bat to kick someone out of my bar. But when it’s my boyfriend’s sister saying something unkind, I’m an absolute mess. I have no idea what that means.
“It means you care,” Cheyenne says when I recite that exact thought to her at her house. I glance over to where she’s siting in the chair, Rufus at her feet. “Otherwise you would have laughed it off,” Cheyenne adds.
She’s right for the most part. I’m not a stranger to people talking shit. And I usually shovel back at them without missing a beat. But my heart is too tender. Too vulnerable.
“What do I do?” I ask, my voice soft.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table once again, and Cheyenne motions for me to answer it. I’ve ignored all the other texts and calls. My heart pounds as I pick it up, and listen to the first voicemail.
“Phee,” Isaac says. “I’m at the bar, but Reggie said you left early. Where are you? Call me.”
Fifteen minutes later, there’s another message:
“Hey,” he says, sounding worried. “I just went by your house. I wouldn’t call again... but Reggie told me you’d been crying.” He pauses. “Phee...” he adds pleadingly like I’m part of the conversation. Then he hangs up.
I check the texts that basically say the same thing. When I’m done, I set the phone face down on the coffee table again.
“You have to tell him,” Cheyenne says gently. “Remember, he’s not the one who said the shitty stuff. It was his sister.”
“But what if she convinces him to see her point of view?” I ask.
Cheyenne tilts her head. “Do you think his sister is right?” she asks. “Is that why you’re really avoiding Isaac?”
“Maybe she’s not totally wrong,” I say, pain welling up in my chest.
Cheyenne leans forward in the chair, her elbows on her knees.
“She’s not even remotely right,” she says firmly. “First of all, I’m part of your family now. And I can tell you the Banks are amazing. All of you. You are good people—I’m going to be raising two more.”
Heat rushes my cheeks, and I want to apologize for doubting my family—her family. I want to understand how I screwed up in the past. How I’ll never escape that.
“I dropped out of college and left my family to live with some loser for two years,” I say. “I left my mother to manage her sickness alone. And it wasn’t for some noble cause. I didn’t protect my family, Cheyenne. I’m not Ryerson.”
“You loved someone and he wronged you. That’s not your fault,” Cheyenne says. “He was a fucking asshole. You came back to your family and you went to school. You bought a bar. Phoebe,” she says, pressing her lips together sadly, “you’re wonderful. Isaac is lucky to have you.”
“He has better options,” I say. “Rich, classy ones.”
“Sounds boring,” she says, sitting back in the seat as she flashes me a smile. “What good is money? It certainly won’t keep you warm at night.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and I sip from a cup of tea she made me.
“Did you know I was married right out of high school? Cheyenne asks. “I ran off with Frankie Miller to escape my family.”
“I might have heard about that,” I say. In truth, the whole town knows about Cheyenne and Frankie Miller. About her divorce at nineteen.
“I’m sure you have,” she says with a laugh. “Anyway, your brother wasn’t totally thrilled with my ex-husband. At least, not the fact that Frankie and I are still friends. But we worked that out. The point is, our pasts aren’t perfect—our families. But honey, your family welcomed me so completely. If Isaac’s family doesn’t do the same for you, fuck them. They can rot.” She smiles despite the viciousness of her words.
“We love you,” she continues. “You have us. And if Isaac wants to ditch his family like I did, and love you the way you deserve to be loved, then he’s welcome, too. But he can’t make that decision if you don’t tell him he has a choice.”
I watch her, understanding that Cheyenne is my sister now. Those are my nieces and nephews. Anyone who calls me trash calls us all trash.
“So I tell him what his sister said?” I ask. “Even if it makes me feel like shit?”
“Yep,” she replies. “And let him know she was a real bitch.” Cheyanne grins, and I’m starting to feel a little feistier.
“And I’ll tell him to handle her,” I say. “That I’m not going to the wedding.”
Cheyenne lets out a little gasp. “You’re not?” she asks.
“Uh, no. She hates me.”
“Oh, right. Well, Isaac can go; it is his sister. But then he needs to tell them to respect you.”
“And if he decides not to come back?” I ask, my heart sinking.
“He’ll come back,” she says. “But if he doesn’t, then he was never really here in the first place.” She smiles softly, and I want to cry and hug her at the same time.
I miss Isaac. I hate that I haven’t talked to him—that he wasn’t my first call. But I’m feeling braver now.
“Thanks, Cheyenne,” I say.
I take out my phone, and open up Isaac’s texts again.
Please, Phee. I’m worried.
I look up at Cheyenne. “Do you mind if I...?” I hold up the phone, and her lips form an O as she stands.
“Take your time,” she tells me. I watch her leave for the back bedroom, Rufus diligently following behind her. When they’re gone, I take a steadying breath and call Isaac.
He answers on the first ring.
“Holy shit, Phoebe,” he says. “Are you okay? I was about to contact your brother at the police station.”
“I’m okay,” I tell him, both comforted and nervous at the sound of his voice. “Something happened.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at Ryerson’s with Cheyenne. Isaac,” I say, “your sister came by the bar.”
“Arianna?” he asks. “Okay? I didn’t even know she was in town.”
“She came to see me,” I clarify. “She... she told me not to come to her wedding.”
Isaac is quiet for a long moment, and there is a shift on the line. The vroom of the engine.
“I’m coming to get you.” He pauses. “Can I come get you?” He repeats with a bit of uncertainty.
“Yeah,” I say. “You can bring me home.”
“I will be there in five minutes,” he says. His voice shakes, and I can hear that he’s scared. After we hang up, my soul is a little heavier.
Hearing him vulnerable like that, unsure about us, it breaks my heart a little. And maybe it’s not worth it—this constant worry. Maybe it’s time to figure out if either of us can walk away.
+++
Isaac pulls up in his Range Rover, and Cheyenne gives me a quick hug before I walk out.
There’s a chill in the night air, and I wrap my arms around myself as I approach the passenger side. Isaac leaves the engine running, but gets out and comes around to open the door for me.
I can’t look at him. It’s cowardly, I know, but I’m about to talk so much shit about his sister. I have no idea how he’s going to take it. I’m trying to collect my nerve.
Isaac gets in the driver’s seat, and we start down the dark road, the silence in the car is utterly deafening. Eventually, he turns on the radio as if sensing that I’m not ready to talk.
When we get to my place, he doesn’t park in the driveway. He pulls to the curb and puts his vehicle in park. He doesn’t turn off the engine or move.
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking sideways at him. I thought he would be coming in.
He keeps his head down, and when he sniffs, I realize he’s about to cry. There’s a patch of red high up on his cheeks, his hat covering his eyes. But his lips are pursed, tight. After a moment, he swallows hard.
“Are you breaking up with me?” he asks in a voice so sorrowful, that I actually sway from the way it destroys me. “Is that what you were talking to Cheyenne about?”
“No,” I say softly, and he turns to me. I still can’t see his eyes, but when I don’t reach for him, or at least argue a little harder, he seems to sense the crossroads we’ve come to.
“Then what is happening?” he asks. “What did my sister say to you?”
I used to think her calling me trash was what mattered, but now I know it’s not the point. I felt like she was right. It’s my own insecurities that are keeping me from committing fully to this relationship.
And although that should be a reason to tell Isaac I’m in love with him, it makes me decide something else entirely.
“I can’t go to the wedding with you,” I tell him. His nostrils flare as he holds back his emotion, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.
“Why?” he asks.
“Because I have to work on things. Your sister came here to keep me away from you. She basically said I wasn’t good enough.”
Isaac opens his mouth to argue, but I hold up my hand to stop him.
“I was going to prove her wrong,” I say. “But now… now I can see that I’m not ready for this. For us. Not because of you—you’re perfect, Isaac. But I’m damaged goods. I have to—”
“I love you, Phee,” he murmurs quietly, not looking at me. “I’m in love with you.”
The words hit me straight in the chest, and I want him to look up; I want to stare into those baby blue eyes. But that would be counterproductive when I’m trying to set him free.
I love him. But that’s why I won’t hold him back.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice steady. “I really am. But this isn’t going to work out. Thanks for—”
He lifts his head, his face truly shocked. “Thanks?” he interrupts. “Thanks for… what? Sleeping with you? Is that all it was to you?”
“No,” I say, slightly offended. I can see why he might think that given the current situation, but I still don’t like the insinuation. I cross my arms over my chest. “And now I should go.”
His lips part like he might argue, but I think he feels bad for what he said. His blue eyes are glassy, and he quickly darts them away. I open the door, and climb out. I know I should turn around and tell him that I love him too. Tell him the truth.
But I don’t. I close the door, and watch Isaac drive away from my house. And out of my life.