Waist-deep in a pile of clothes, I clawed at the stack with increasing frustration. Hippie chic? What exactly did that mean? Could one even put those words together into a coherent whole? When I wasn’t wearing light blue nursing scrubs at the hospital, I preferred a more classic wardrobe, which was precisely why I had such a high credit card bill every month at the Gap. Their business casual or jeans and blazer looks suited me well: crisp, clean, and tailored. Just like me. Just like my life.

“What do you think, Cynthia?” I asked, holding up a chiffon top I’d dug out of the pile. My initial search for the perfect outfit had begun in an orderly fashion, but then I noticed some items falling off their hangers and decided this was as good a time as any to rehang and reorganize everything in my closet – hence the messy stack of clothing now fanned out around me. “I need your opinion, pretty boy. Is this hippie enough? Do you think I’ll look good in this?”

With his signature blasé arrogance, my fluffy gray and white cat glanced between the shirt and me and, for a moment there, I thought he might actually be considering my options. But then he went all predictable feline on me, folding his limber body into a scissor pose before getting down and dirty on his furry little behind.

“Everyone’s a critic.”

I guess I couldn’t fault Cynthia for his lackluster approach to life. He had never really forgiven me for his feminine moniker. I blamed my father and his stupid pet-naming policy. By the time we’d realized that Cynthia was really a Charles, it was too late. Every suggestion I presented as an acceptable alternative was met with overly enthusiastic booing by my opinionated family. So Cynthia it remained. I figured since he was strictly an indoor kitty and wouldn’t need to worry about getting name-shamed by a gang of macho alley cats, what was the harm, right? Wrong! My brothers never gave poor Cynthia a break. He’d become a running family joke, and my misunderstood little fluff ball didn’t like it one bit.

I held up my favorite light gray pantsuit, the one I’d rocked at the hospital Christmas party the year before last – seriously low-cut and clinging to all the right curves. I recalled feeling incredibly sexy that night. I also remembered the males loving it; so much so that I’d been rewarded with a steamy night in the arms of Logan, our hospital’s Dr. McDreamy. All I can say about that was, with a few drinks in me, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. I should have known better… on so many levels. Logan was one of those guys who knew he was hot and wanted the rest of the world to appreciate his scorching awesomeness right alongside him. And that night, after he’d rolled off of me for the final time that balmy winter’s evening, we both immediately realized our mistake, and neither one of us could get away from the other fast enough.

He’d spent the following week trying to hide from me. It really was quite humorous to watch him morph from a mature professional into a commitment-phobic adolescent the moment our tryst was completed. Avoiding me seemed his only mission, even going so far as to duck behind the nurse’s stations or escape into storage closets when our paths would invariably cross. What Dr. Chickenshit hadn’t realized was that he’d met his fornicating match. I didn’t want a relationship any more than he did, and once he figured that out, the randy physician was more than happy to keep reaching out for snacks… or asking for tickets to my brother’s concerts. As if. Asshole. That’s what I got for picking the winners. I scrunched my nose in protest of the memory… yeah, maybe not the pantsuit.

So that was my last coitus, not that you probably cared. Not that I even cared. When it came to men and sex, I could take it or leave it. And more often than not, I left it. It wasn’t that I was some hardcore feminist who reveled in pummeling men in their nether regions just for the sake of it, although that did sound strangely entertaining. No, my reasons were far simpler and less violent. I’d found over time that the only men with balls big enough to approach me were cocksure dipwads. And despite what my appearance and demeanor obviously said about me, I wasn’t used to men like that. All the guys in my life, my father and my brothers, were dynamic and sincere. Sure, they made mistakes, and could at times be giant walking, talking assholes, but at least they tried to do the right thing. I liked to think my brothers treated women with as much respect as could be reasonably expected, given they were of the male species and thought primarily with their frontal genitalia.

Even if the nice guys were to come hither, it’s not like I’d know what to do with them. I’d spent my adulthood avoiding congenial men. The fact that I didn’t want what nice guys wanted – namely, marriage and a family – pretty much excluded them from my rather empty playbook.

So, what should I do? my sister Grace texted. She was having boy problems and naively believed her big sister had all the answers. Ahh, bless her. Honestly, she’d have better luck asking some middle school hussy than me but, sure, I’d pretend for her. Why the hell not? Okay, so let’s see, the guy in her English class just told her he thought she had a thick ass – thick, for all you pre-Kardashians out there, now meant deliciously scrumptious. Does she a) engage him in conversation; b) ignore him and make him want more: or c) rub her thick ass all over the douche to give him a taste of what he’s been missing? Okay, seeing as this was my baby sister, c) was most definitely off the table. Selection b) would be my standard protocol, and we certainly didn’t want Grace to be anything like me, so there was really only one option...

Fine. I didn’t want to be her Oprah anyway. Relieved, I shifted my focus back to the pile of clothing and begrudgingly acknowledged that it really didn’t matter what I found in my closet; nothing was going to get me out of a shopping date with my brother’s fiancée, Casey. I’d been putting her off for too long, and now it was crunch time. Somehow I’d agreed to let her help me pick out two ‘music festival appropriate’ outfits for the coming weekend. My brother Jake was headlining the three-day line-up and, because it was our father’s birthday, had invited the entire clan out for some fun in the desert sun. But although I’d been looking forward to the event for weeks, finding something to wear was another story altogether.

The Sun Desert Music Festival was known as much for the fashion stylings of its concertgoers as it was for the music. And that’s where Casey came in. Since saying yes to my brother four months ago, my future sister-in-law had been trying her best to bond with me. I was fine with our friendly arrangement of seeing each other only when Jake was around – after all, I wasn’t known for having female friends – but apparently that didn’t fly with girlfriend-centric women like Casey. She wanted a deeper connection with me, and even though I had trust issues with other women, I’d promised Jake during our last phone conversation that I’d try harder to get to know his soon-to-be bride.

I mean, how difficult could it be? Casey seemed fairly straightforward. I couldn’t imagine there being some hideous beast hiding under all that smiling. Normally I didn’t trust anyone whose lips were perpetually curved upward, but with Casey, I truly believed she couldn’t help herself. Don’t get me wrong – I didn’t dislike Casey or her bubbly personality. On the contrary, I found her a breath of fresh air in my brother’s previously stale life. She’d found a way to pierce his steely surface to find the person inside – not the rock star or the crime victim, just the man I knew and loved. And for that I bowed down to her. But becoming best buddies? That didn’t seem likely.

I guess selfishly I’d always just pictured Jake and me, lonely and unloved, living out the later years of our lives together in some swanky old people’s home in Florida, complaining about the freezing temperatures and arguing over whose walker was fastest. But with Casey in the picture, that lofty dream was all shot to hell. It was now looking like I’d be getting a table for one in old folks’ heaven.

Obviously, the issue I had with Casey was more a reflection on me. I simply couldn’t keep up with the girl. The last time we’d hung out, she’d done 90% of the talking. At some point I’d retreated to a safe place in my mind far, far away from the endless words. Again, my fault, not hers. No doubt my reserved demeanor had made Casey extra chatty that night.

The phone calls for this current round of attempted bonding had started last week. Of course, Casey initiated each and every call. There’d been three in all, if you didn’t count the ones I’d let go straight to voicemail. She wanted to set up a shopping date with me, which required a trip to the mall or something equivalent. Noise. Lines. People. Yuck, double yuck, and shoot me now. All my go-to excuses were depleted after call number one. I dipped into the reserves for call number two. But by call number three, I was weak and defenseless, and in no position to refuse. Yep, there was no way out of the trip to the mall.

The only type of shopping I enjoyed was done from the comfort of my own home… and in a pair of colorful pajamas. Almost everything I desired could be ordered through the click of a mouse. The painless efficiency of online shopping sent happy flutters through me. Nothing was more satisfying than coming home from a long day of work and finding brown packages waiting for me on my doorstep. It was like Christmas every day.

My aversion to the mall came at the onset of puberty, when I grew to my full and ridiculous height. Pushing six feet tall in seventh grade, it was a challenge to find flattering outfits that fit my long, pencil arms and Stretch Armstrong legs. And don’t even get me started on my size ten flipper feet. That’s why I stuck to the brands I could trust, with the online stores specifically tailored to beanstalk girls like myself.

Casey didn’t have to worry about such things, as she was the south to my north pole. Her cute little personality was matched by her cute little body. She could rock any outfit and look cool doing it. Add to that her flowing brunette locks and easy smile, and Casey was hard to resist. She definitely had a way of growing on you, sort of like a staph infection – you didn’t even know she was invading until you had a full-blown case of her.

Honestly, I just didn’t want to be embarrassed when I went into stores for normal-sized girls. Although I liked being able to reach items on the top shelf, there were times I thought life would be easier if I was short enough to fit inside a smart car. Certainly it would be simpler when it came to men. I was no troll, but my height definitely complicated matters with the opposite sex. Guys over a certain length generally found me attractive – hell, even the shorter ones had no problem flirting with me – until I stood up. Then came the sweaty foreheads and awkward excuses. Even the big guys seemed to be calculating in their heads how much taller I’d be in a pair of stilettos before committing to an evening out, not that such a scenario came around all that often.

Perhaps to offset the shock of my lofty, slim frame and bee-sting sized boobs, I had been graciously blessed with the gift of light hazel-gray eyes, high cheekbones, and lustrously long, thick tresses, which at the moment were dyed a platinum blonde, courtesy of my fashion-obsessed sister Grace. While she’d done a great job, I was currently rethinking my color choice after overhearing someone at work call me the White Witch.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only unfavorable nickname I’d earned at the hospital. I was also routinely referred to as Nurse Nasty and The Rock Star’s Bitch Sister; always behind my back, of course. For whatever reason, women didn’t particularly care for me. It wasn’t that I was ever outwardly rude to other people, but I wasn’t touchy-feely, either. I had a tendency to keep my emotions firmly in check, and apparently that rubbed people the wrong way.

When I’d first started at the hospital, I really had tried to fit in, but my brother’s reputation preceded me. A leak from the administration outed my identity, and upon arrival I was bombarded with questions about Jake. Being the fiercely protective sister I was, I immediately shut down the intrusive inquiries, and in doing so, set the course for social obliteration for the next four years.

Of course, it hadn’t helped my cause that male coworkers occasionally hit on me in front of the other nurses. Even openly rebuffing their advances to appease my female colleagues didn’t get me off the hook. In fact, it only seemed to incite them further. The Rock Star’s Bitch Sister thinks she’s too good for our doctors. I figured out pretty quickly that I couldn’t win no matter what, so I stopped trying. In fact, I had only one friend among the nurses, and that was really just by default. Everyone hated her, too.

No, I was used to not being liked by other women, and it hadn’t bothered me too much until Jake asked me to try harder with Casey. I’d never been able to say no to him, and his concern for her happiness tugged at my heart. His was a request I couldn’t ignore. Nor did I want to. I owed as much to Casey. Her commitment to my brother gave us something very important in common. And if, like Jake had said, she didn’t think I liked her, well, that was definitely something I could change.

At least I had a better chance of making things right with Casey than of fixing the other issue Jake had with me. According to him, I suffered from a condition referred to as Resting Bitch Face, otherwise known as RBF. Apparently even when I wasn’t annoyed, my expression said otherwise. As if I didn’t have enough to be self-conscious about, now I had to worry that my very aura was displeasing to others. Talk about pressure. The moment I was made aware of the fact that I was indeed suffering from the chronic pinched-lipped disease, it was all I could think about. Feeling the need to prove I was more than just a facial expression, I practiced ‘resting’ my face in front of a mirror, adopting a more pleasing wide-eyed, clueless look. If it worked for puppies, it could work for me.

Once I had my most adorable look down pat, I tried it out at work, greeting my co-workers enthusiastically. Instead of being thrilled with my delightful new outlook on life, my sudden friendliness had the opposite effect, and for the remainder of the day, I had to endure long sideways glances from women worried I might show up at their homes and boil their pet bunnies. In hindsight, it might have been best to ease them into the new me.

I hadn’t always been the odd woman out. Once upon a time, I’d had plenty of female friends; in fact, dare I say, I was a popular girl. Back then, if females hated me it was because they wanted to be me. Now they just hated me with no strings attached.

It’s not difficult to pinpoint the moment in time when everything changed for me. In fact, I could tell you the exact minute of the exact day. When tragedy stuck, it was all-consuming, and I was wholly unprepared for the aftermath. I collapsed inward, clinging to my parents and siblings, the only people who truly understood the magnitude of what we’d survived. I would have gladly stayed inside that bubble, us against the world, had the inevitable not happened and we’d all grown up. I went off to college and started my life, but emotionally, I stayed behind, watching from the sidelines as one by one my little sister and my four brothers began to spread their wings. It was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. Letting them go left a void in me that I’d never been able to fill back up. As my brothers fell in love, they added new members to our tight knit group, making me feel pushed out and unnecessary. Maybe that’s why I’d never embraced Keith’s ex, or Jake’s fiancée or Kyle’s girlfriend. Tears filled my eyes. I needed to try harder.

“I can always count on you, can’t I, buddy?” I said, bending down and giving my fur baby a good scratching behind his ears. Forgetting about his butthole, if only temporarily, Cynthia purred and rolled around on the floor in frenzy as if my fingers had been dipped in catnip just for his petting pleasure.

The ding of the doorbell put an end to the cat worship. There’d be plenty of time for that later. Oh, yeah, there was always ample time for the cat.

“All right, all right, hang on,” I called, as I padded my way to the front door. Pulling out my phone, I clicked on the electronic doorbell app to confirm who I already assumed was there – my lunch date. He came around at least every other week after trips to LA, and although I’d never admit it to him, his visits were the highlights of my month. The camera on my doorbell app finally activated, and I gasped at the image that popped up on my screen. An ass. And not just any ass… my brother Keith’s. I wished I could say it was the first time I’d seen it so up close and personal, but sadly I couldn’t. Despite myself, I laughed at his juvenile behavior. My penchant for frat boy humor was an unfortunate side effect of growing up with brothers.

“Damn, Keith,” I said into the speaker, “you’re looking so handsome today. Did you get a new haircut or something?”

“Well, actually I did do a little manscaping. Thanks for noticing.”

“You know, I didn’t buy this doorbell so you could have your way with it.”

The naked ass that had been greeting me on my screen disappeared and was replaced by Keith’s eyeball.

“EMMMAA,” he said in a crazy voice, his giant orb rolling around in its socket. “Open up.”

“Stop,” I laughed, unlocking my front door. “You’re going to freak out the neighbors.”

Keith stepped in, a bag of oranges in one hand and the other adjusting his shorts back into place. “Have you seen your neighbors? You live in the Valley, for god’s sake.”

I pulled him into my charming yet snug, three-bedroom condominium.

“Shhh,” I snickered, and shut the door. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

I lived on a quiet tree-lined street in the Valley. Yes, that valley. Also known as the New Jersey of Los Angeles, the San Fernando Valley had long been considered the place to go if you weren’t beautiful enough, cool enough, or rich enough to live in the city. Many Angelenos wouldn’t even consider stepping foot on this side of Mulholland Drive without a full set of shots on file. Home of porn stars and Moon Unit Zappa’s Valley Girl song, one might think the area had no redeeming qualities, but in recent years it had become a mecca for young families. The rents were cheaper and the vibe was considerably more laid back.

Although it was far from what others might consider a dream home, for me it was perfect. Having the finest of all things had once been my goal, but that was a long time ago. I’d long since stopped valuing the measure of life through opulence. The people I chose to surround myself with, my family, were all the treasure I needed. Sappy, I agree, but in my case, true. Yes, I was proud of my little condo. It had been through my hard work that I’d earned enough for the down payment. Because my brother was a millionaire musician, people just assumed I routinely piggybacked off his fortune and fame. That could not be further from the truth. My life was mine, far removed from my brother’s crazy, rock star existence, although that’s not to say that if I’d wanted to live vicariously through him, I easily could have. Jake was liberal with his money and never thought twice about sharing his wealth with the ones he loved.

Case in point was the owner of a skate and surf shop who was standing before me now. The money for Keith’s business had come from a very rich and very generous musician, one who just happened to share his last name. Keith might not have minded taking handouts, but I did. I liked my quiet little existence, but more importantly, I liked paying for it on my own. That didn’t mean I wasn’t open to bonuses from time to time, generally in the form of plane tickets, hotels, and all-expenses-paid family trips like the one I was about to enjoy this weekend.

By the time we’d made it into the living room, Keith was already picking items off my coffee table and rearranging them, something he did strictly because he knew it annoyed me. I purposely ignored his nettling.

“So how was work?” he asked.

“Actually, pretty good… only three death threats against me yesterday.”

“Well, now we’re talking.” Keith nodded his approval and then gave me a high five. “Nice job, Emma.”

“Thanks. It feels good to be so loved.”

“I’m sure.” Keith handed me the bag of fruit he was still carrying. “Mom told me to give these to you.”

“Oh, yay. I’m going to make fresh-squeezed orange juice later.”

“Oh, yay!” he mimicked in a girly voice, and then took it a step further by throwing his hands up in a gleeful display of faked happiness. “Nice to see you’ve got big plans tonight.”

“Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering my evening with Casey. “Never mind. I’ll have to squeeze the citrus on another night.”

“So you do have plans?” Keith raised an eyebrow suggestively. “A hot date?”

“Yep. With a girl.”

“All right. Uh huh, a bit of girl-on-girl action never hurt anyone. Oh, hold on… now all I can picture is your face in the equation. Thanks for ruining the fantasy for me.”

“Shut up. It’s with Casey, you creep.”

“Huh. Casey, you say?” He grinned.

“Keith!” I slapped him in the arm. “Do not let Jake know you’re lusting after his girl.”

“Not lusting… just appreciative. I’m a guy. Our eyes are genetically engineered to admire attractive women. It all stems back to the caveman days.”

“Somehow I feel your logic is wrong on this, but I’m going to cut you some slack because I know your elevator doesn’t stop on every floor.”

Not even the least bit offended, Keith nodded his agreement as he continued his exploration of my belongings. Picking up a colorful porcelain origami crane, Keith examined it before making a face and asking, “Why do you need this?”

“I don’t. I just like it. Put it back.”

He didn’t, instead pretending to make it fly.

I snatched my crane from his hand and returned it to the shelf. “No touching.”

“You know, Jake getting married still freaks me out a little bit,” Keith said, without taking his eyes off the damn crane. Move along, buddy. “I mean, what are the chances that out of all of us, Jake would be the first to marry?”

“He wouldn’t be if you’d gotten your act together sooner.”

Keith picked up the crane again and held it out in front of him, threatening to drop it. “Take it back,” he demanded. “Take it back or the bird dies.”

He’d just been waiting for the opportunity to murder my crane. I lunged for it but Keith was too quick, deftly skirting the breakable bird behind his back before I could save it. “All I’m saying…” – he stopped mid-sentence to smirk at my pathetic rescue efforts – “is ten years ago I thought Jake would be drooling in a mental hospital right about now, but look at him. Our little psycho has grown up.”

“Keith,” I said, shaming him with my disapproval. “Could you be any more politically incorrect?”

“What? He doesn’t care. I call him that all the time.”

“No, you don’t, because if you did, he’d beat the shit out of you on a regular basis.”

“Please. Jake’s got nothing on me.”

“You’re right. You’re so much better than him in every way. Can I have my crane back?”

“Now was that so hard?” Keith asked in a condescending manner, grinning as he replaced the bird.

It might seem that his assessment of our little brother’s state of mind back then was overly harsh, but then you wouldn’t know the full story. Jake was a mess, and no one, not even he, denied it.

“I guess it goes to show what finding love can do for a person.”

“I guess,” he said.

“You guess?”

“I mean, come on, Emma. You have to give credit where credit’s due. Casey might have changed Jake for the better, but we both know who saved him.”

I shrugged.

Keith shook his head. “You never give her any credit, do you?”

“I know what Mom did for him,” I said. “I don’t need you reminding me.”

Keith put his hands up in submission, my snappy tone not escaping him. “Forget I said anything.”

I realized I was being too sensitive, but even after all these years, the subject of Jake’s kidnapping and the horrific aftermath still had adverse affects on me. Although I loved my mother to death and credited her with keeping our family intact, she and I had a complicated relationship, one that could not be explained in a simplistic exchange with my brother.

The great thing about Keith was that he didn’t linger too long on deep thoughts. In fact, the minute he detected my shifting mood, he changed the subject by walking over to my couch and picking up a glove with little spikes on it. One brow arched in question as he held it up and made spanking motions with it. “Do I even want to know what this is used for?”

“It’s to prevent hairballs,” I said.

The blank look on his face forced me to clarify. “For Cynthia.”

“Oh, right,” he said, grinning mischievously as he elongated my cat’s name. “Cyn-thi-a.”

Keith tossed the offending glove back where it came from. “Where is that sexually disoriented cat of yours, anyway?”

“He’s still in the closet, I think.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. “No, literally. I was going through my clothes.”

“Oh, good.”

I tensed, glaring at my brother. “What does that mean?”

His eyes expanded as he realized his mistake. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. You don’t like my clothes?”

“They’re fine.”

“Fine?” My voice rose in accusation.

Keith grimaced when he realized he wasn’t getting out of the shitstorm he’d just created. “Maybe they’re a tad bland, is all.”

“Bland? Well, duh… I wear scrubs all day.”

“Actually, Em, your scrubs are the best part of your wardrobe. I was talking about everything else. I mean, you’ve got a decent body – for a sister, I guess – but you dress like a schoolteacher,” he said, before adding, “…and not the Van Halen ‘hot for teacher’ kind.”

“Thanks for clarifying.” I offered up my most menacing scowl.

But instead of taking the hint, he just kept going. “You have a more, ‘Students, I go home after class and play with my cat’ type of a vibe.”

“Yeah, I get it Keith. I’m a boring cat lady. As if that hasn’t been played to death in our family.” I waved him off. “What about you? How are you enjoying Mom and Dad’s house?”

Now it was Keith’s turn to glare at me. Okay, admittedly it was a low blow. He and his girlfriend of six years had recently split, and he’d moved out of their apartment and into our parents place a little over a month ago.

“You just had to go there, didn’t you?”

“What? I’m simply being conversational.” I feigned innocence.

“It’s a big house, Emma. I’m fine.”

“And Sam? How’s she doing?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Keith said curtly. “Ask her.”

“So still no communication?”

My brother headed for the door, ignoring my question completely.

“I just thought the two of you would work it out.”

“Well, you thought wrong. Sam and I aren’t together anymore. End of story.” His tone was short and snippy, but something in the way he said the words made me think he had only just recently realized what he’d lost in her.

“Okay,” I mouthed, raising my brows as I silently mocked his attitude.

“You know the best part about not having a girlfriend?”

“What?” Leave it to Keith to find the positive in his obvious heartbreak.

“I can finally take advantage of Jake’s fame this weekend. Cool music, hot chicks, free liquor…”

“Name-dropping your rock star brother,” I added.

“Of course.” He grinned. “That’s the best part. The women will be stripping off their clothes as they come running.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t uh-huh me. I’m the full package: single, hot, and I live with my parents.”

“Wow, you’re going to be beating them off.”

And, honestly, he probably would be. Attracting females had never been a problem for my older brother. He had a charm to him that was apparently hard to resist.

“You know I will.” He smiled, pretending to swing a bat. “You want my advice, Em?”

“Nope.”

“Have a little fun this weekend.”

“I said I didn’t want your advice.”

“When was the last time you went out? Oh wait… never,” Keith said, ignoring my protest. “Do yourself a favor. Kick back this weekend. Let your bun down.”

“Um… I don’t wear my hair up in buns.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“You’re so tense all the time. Let loose a little. Hang with some wild drummer. Pound the liquor.”

“None of this sounds like good, solid advice, Keith.”

“And good god, Em, go buy yourself some new clothes that aren’t out of the men’s department.”

* * *

“Can I ask you a question?” Casey’s sunny demeanor turned instantly serious, and I felt my stomach do a nervous little flip. Up to this point our shopping trip had been fun and light-hearted. I’d even go as far as to say she might have actually changed my mind about visits to the mall. I’d found three awesome outfits with Casey’s help and was feeling pretty good about our connection. Jake would be pleased.

But then, out of the blue, she changed the rules of the game, and my mood turned instantly sour. “Okay, what?”

“Why are you alone?”

It took effort to force my face to stay neutral when, in reality, I wanted to blast obscenities at her. Why I was alone was none of her damn business.

“You’re a beautiful woman… smart and successful. Men fall all over you. I mean, you could have anyone you wanted. So why don’t you?”

Oh, she was going right for the jugular, the answer to her question hitting to the very core of who I was as a person. Certainly I wouldn’t be discussing my hang-ups with the world’s most perfect woman.

“I guess I just haven’t found the right guy.” I shrugged, hoping she’d take the hint, all the while knowing Casey wasn’t the type to let things lie.

“Are you looking?”

“Why do you care?”

Casey appeared startled by the hostility in my voice, but she bravely held my glare. In that moment, I knew. She and Jake had been discussing me, and for whatever reason, that was infuriating. It was like Jake went and got himself engaged and then immediately turned traitor. My issues were not his to share, especially seeing as I’d spent my life safeguarding his.

“Why? What has he told you?” I asked, looking away in irritation.

“Please don’t be mad. I’m just trying to understand you better.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Now I was really pissed. “You don’t think I know that you and Jake are having little powwow sessions about me? I’m telling you now: stop it.”

Casey raised her brows. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” I asked, grumbling.

“Sensitive subject. Sorry I said anything.”

I didn’t care for the tone. She was the one who’d brought it up, and if she didn’t like the response, well, too damn bad. “Not everyone is you, Casey. Not everyone gets the fairytale.”

She looked away and silence ensued. If Jake wanted me to work harder with his fiancee, then he’d better stop throwing me under the bus with her. He was going to get a swift talking to this weekend.

“You know,” Casey started, but then the words stopped suddenly. She placed her hand over her heart, looking up at the ceiling as emotion played out over her face. “If you mean fairytale in the sense that I found the man I love more than life itself, then yes, I would have to agree with you. But if you mean fairytale in that everything is always perfectly perfect… well, then, you don’t know your brother as well as you claim to.”

Her words hit me. Of course I knew Jake had issues, but for whatever reason, I guess I didn’t see them spilling out into his relationship with her. Certainly they’d always portrayed their unity as near perfection, and her confession both surprised and intrigued me. “Are you and Jake having problems?”

“You first.”

“What?”

“You answer my question and I’ll answer yours.” Casey sat back in her seat and crossed her arms in front of her. “Why don’t you date?”

We stared each other down. Oh, she was good. For the first time, I was seeing this girl in a different light. Something told me she was stronger than I’d ever given her credit for. I contemplated how to answer her question but then opted for full disclosure.

“I don’t want to get married.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Your turn. Are you and Jake having problems?”

“Not problems, necessarily.” Casey sighed heavily. I could clearly see the weight bogging her down. How had I not detected it earlier? “I’m just worried about him. I’m going to tell you something, but it’s just between the two of us, okay?”

I nodded, leaning in.

“He stopped seeing the therapist a while back.”

The information surprised me. Jake had seemed so positive about the sessions. Why would he stop going just when he was seeing results?

“Your turn,” Casey said, a smile forming on her face.

I smiled back. It was as if we’d come to an understanding. We were on a level playing field, both carrying secrets the other wanted to know.

“I don’t want to get married and have kids because I already basically raised two, and I have no need for more.”

It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know everything.

Casey seemed to consider what I said, and then nodded like she didn’t quite believe me.

“Jake told me you had a lot of responsibility. He feels bad that you had to pick up the slack because of him.”

“He said that?” I whispered, heaviness tugging at my heart. I always hated when he blamed himself for the things he’d had no control over. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“Well, Jake carries a lot of regrets.”

“Why did he stop seeing the therapist?” I asked.

“All he said was that he didn’t feel comfortable going anymore. It was weird because it happened so suddenly. One minute he was totally positive about the progress he was making, and the next, he refused to go back.”

“When did this happen?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

Dammit. Now I was worried. When Jake retreated too deeply into his own mind, things got hairy. Did Casey understand this? Could she handle the fallout? Perhaps sensing my concern, she reached over the table to cup my hand.

“It’s true. I have been asking Jake questions about you, and, yes, I did ask him to broker this meeting, but it’s not because he and I are ganging up on you. I genuinely want to get to know you better. I’ve never had a sister, and I really want to have that close relationship with you… but I also need you.”

“Why?”

“Because you know Jake… maybe better than anyone.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m thinking you do.”

Casey slowly lifted her head, leveling her serious eyes to challenge mine. “Who is Glen?”

It was a gut punch of a question that took my breath away. I had to think. What had Jake told her? What could I say about Glen? Nothing, that’s what.

“How do you know about Glen?”

My quivering voice was enough for Casey to drop her own to a near whisper.

“He has notebooks filled with songs in the music room. They’re just lying in an unlocked drawer. If they were private, why would he have them in such an open place, right?”

“They’re in a drawer. I’d hardly call that open.”

“That’s not really the point now, is it?”

“Okay, so I take it that you read them.”

She nodded, a guilty pout puckering her lips.

I would have liked to lambast her for snooping into Jake’s personal property, but I was too anxious for an answer to the Glen question to wait.

“This one notebook was pretty old and worn, like he’d spent a lot of time working in it. The writing was dark and chilling; not the stuff he sings up on stage nowadays. I knew immediately these were his private thoughts about the kidnapping.”

“And you didn’t shut the notebook and put it back? You know damn well he wouldn’t want you reading it.”

“I couldn’t help myself. I’m not proud of what I did, but now I’ve read things that I can’t unread. This one song was about Jake watching something bad happen to someone else. He didn’t go into specifics. It was more his own feelings about what happened. At first I thought it might have been written about Ray, but then it became clear that Jake seemed to care about whoever this person was. Here’s where you come in… at the end of the song was a note in his handwriting that said, ‘Never should have told Emma about Glen.’”

Yes, he should have.

Suddenly I was burning up, my cheeks hot and flushed. Upon seeing my horrified expression, Casey sat back, looking somewhat stunned herself. “Jesus, Emma, what happened to Glen? Who was he to Jake?”

Everything.

I hadn’t realized tears were rolling down my cheeks until Casey dabbed them with a napkin.

“Oh, god, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

My sudden waterworks weren’t about being hurt, they were about getting caught with a secret and feeling as though I’d been the one who’d blabbed it. Rest assured, my loyalty was absolute. I’d held his truths in silence all these years. In fact, up until just now, I wasn’t even sure Jake remembered telling me about Glen, as we’d never discussed it since. He’d been in a terrible state of mind, ready to end it all. That secret needed to come out, and even though it broke my heart, I listened. I like to think I absorbed some of the pain for him… so that he could go on living.

“Jake’s secrets have never been mine to tell,” I said.

“I know that.”

“And” – my voice was suddenly weary with exhaustion – “if you think I’m going to betray his trust, you don’t know me very well.”

“What I think is that Jake is lucky to have you… to talk to.”

“He doesn’t talk to me, Casey. Not like you think he does. When we were younger, there was an… incident, and I basically blackmailed him into talking. We’ve never discussed the kidnapping since. If you really want to know, bring the notebook to him and ask. But I’m warning you, be prepared for the answer.”

“I don’t think this is the right time to push him. Something spooked him into quitting therapy, and all I want is to get him back on track. That’s why I asked you to meet me today. I need your help – to help him. But for that to happen, you and I have to be friends… allies. We have to trust each other. So I’ll ask again. Why don’t you date, for real?”

My eyes narrowed in on my future sister-in-law. At this moment I both hated and admired her. She had me over a barrel because she knew I would do anything for my family, especially Jake, even if it meant revealing why I was determined to go through life a lonely old hag.

“Because, Casey…” I said, coldly, “If I meet a man and fall in love, he will want kids, and I refuse to bring a child into this world if I can’t protect it. There! Are you happy now?”