Aerie

---

After a while, my conversation with Eva wound down. I needed a break from all this, from talking about it. I needed…I wasn’t sure what.

Canaan.

I needed Canaan.

But I also needed a break from him, because I had no idea what to do about him. If I was around him, we’d end up screwing and that would only confuse things even more, because it was growing more and more difficult to separate sex from the confused maelstrom of my feelings for him.

I wanted to get drunk, but Tate was pregnant and couldn’t drink. Maybe I could talk one or more of the others into a girls’ night.

I excused myself from Baxter’s room and went into the bathroom to touch up my makeup; on the way from the bathroom back to the living room, I passed Canaan and Corin’s room. I went past it, initially, and then something caught my eye, and I stopped, went back. Stood in the doorway. Staring.

There was a bunk bed, and two bureaus side by side, and a closet; one of the bureaus had been rifled through, and the closet was open, hangers dangling empty. I went in, hunted through the bureau, which had open drawers—I recognized several of the T-shirts as Canaan’s.

Why would…why would there be clothing missing from his room? A sick feeling shot through me, and I left the room, confused and off-balance. Eva was on the couch beside Bax, and Lucian was there as well, resetting a chessboard as Bax whispered to Eva.

They saw me entering the living room, and the whispers stopped. Eva’s gaze told me she knew exactly what was going on.

“Where did he go?” I asked.

No one answered.

“Seriously, you guys. Where is he?”

“Seattle.” Lucian was the first to speak. “Didn’t say why.”

“Where is Corin? Where is my sister?”

“They left after…all that other stuff, and I haven’t seen them since,” Bax said. “Just so you know, I told him he was making a mistake, and that he was a dick.”

I sniffled a laugh. “Thanks, Bax.”

“Hey, what are brothers for, except to call people out on their bullshit?”

I was emotionless, at the moment—the kind of numbness that happens when you’re fresh off one full-blown sobfest and you’re savaged all over again by something new: too much emotion, and not enough Aerie to deal with it. I stood staring at nothing, trying to come to grips with the fact that Canaan had run away from me.

What the fuck?

WHAT THE FUCK?

I shook my head. “I can’t deal with this.” I moved past the couch, and everyone on it.

“Where are you going, Aerie?” Eva asked.

“To the bar. I’m going to sit in the family booth and get as wasted as I possibly can.”

“That’s not going to bring him back,” Eva said.

I laughed, bitterly, angrily. “No shit. Nor will it constitute actually dealing with the emotions of it. That’s the whole point. I cannot deal with this. It’s too much. It’s all too much.”

“I can go with you.” Eva stood up, bending to kiss Baxter.

“I don’t want a babysitter. I’m serious. I’m planning on passing out in that booth.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Baxter said.

“What?”

“Call the girls. When shit like this happens, you call the girls. That’s what family is all about.” He slid a pawn forward two spaces, and then glanced at me. “For real. They’ll sit and drink with you, and get your mind off of my asshole brother.”

“I was thinking about doing exactly that, actually,” I said. “Although I’m not sure I count as family.”

Baxter sat back as Lucian stared at the board. “You count. I’ve known you since you were in diapers. You were there when Mom died. My brother may be stuck in his own stupid head right now, but he’ll come around. May take my foot up his ass to get him there, but he’ll come around.”

“What if I don’t want him to come around? If he’s capable of this, of running away now? After what I just told him? Maybe that’s my breaking point.”

Baxter shrugged and nodded. “Sure, and that’s your call. Won’t make you any less family, Aerie. Your sister is having my brother’s baby. You’ll always be family.”

My throat closed. “Goddamn you, Bax. Can’t you just say something stupid and funny? I don’t want to cry anymore.”

He scratched his chin. “This one time, in college, there was this new guy on the team, and he was a seriously arrogant dick. He thought he was god’s gift not only to women, but also to football. So me and the rest of the O-line Saran-Wrapped him to his bed, gagged him with his own dirty sock, and then each of us took giant steaming shits all over his Saran-Wrapped chest. It was awful. He not only quit the team, but left the school. Transferred to…Notre Dame, maybe? We played his team once, and he was on the opposing offense. Let’s just say it was open season on douchebag. We made sure his ass got tackled hard. Every play, somebody would nail him so hard they heard the impact in the nosebleeds.”

I snorted a laugh. “You…you pooped on him?”

“Straight on him. On the plastic wrap, so it wasn’t like it was on him, but it stunk. We’d all had White Castle, so it was…god, it was the most awful smell I’ve ever encountered.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Was he really that much of a dick?”

He rolled his eyes. “And then some. First time the team all went out for drinks together, he hit on all the players’ girlfriends. Every single one. Not just harmless flirting, but outright hit on them. Coach wouldn’t tolerate open fighting on the team, so we had to get him somehow. Then, on the field, he acted like he was actual football Jesus. Like he knew everything. He didn’t suck, but he wasn’t as amazing as he seemed to think, and yet he treated the rest of us like fuckin’ rookies. Pissed us the fuck off.”

“So the obvious answer is to defecate on him?” I asked, cackling.

He shrugged. “Eh, it worked, didn’t it? We couldn’t beat him stupid in the locker room or we’d all get cut, so we had to get creative.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. “Yeah, that’s pretty creative,” I said. “Awful, and cruel, and absolutely disgusting, but funny.”

“Better?” Bax asked.

I nodded. “Better. Thanks.”

“No problem. Anytime you need comedy relief, hit me up. I’m full of shit like that. Zane has some funny stories from his days in the Navy, too.”

Lucian, apropos of nothing, spoke up. “I once got rolled by a prostitute.”

We all stared at him.

“You…what?” Baxter twisted in place to face Lucian. “Bullshit.”

“For real. What you’re going to call bullshit on is the fact that I didn’t hire her for sex. You won’t believe me, but it’s true. I hired her because I was alone in Thailand, and I got hammered. I was worried about getting sick in my sleep and choking on my vomit, so when I passed this hooker on the street on the way to my room, I handed her a wad of cash and told her in my best Thai that I wanted her to go to my hotel with me and keep from puking on myself in my sleep, and that was it. I said I had more cash that I would give her in the morning. Well, I passed out, and when I woke up I was totally naked, all my clothes were gone, my wallet was gone, my cash was gone, everything. I was still alive, and there was a trash can full of puke, so she’d done her job, but she completely rolled me.”

We were all laughing.

“So what’d you do?” Baxter asked.

“Fortunately, I’m not an idiot. I never brought my passport with me, never carried anything in my wallet except enough cash for whatever I wanted to do. I never brought anything I wasn’t prepared to have stolen, because I’d been mugged once and spent a month in South Africa waiting for a new passport. After that, I made sure I never brought anything ashore I couldn’t lose.” He chuckled quietly. “I did a walk of shame. The hotel was three blocks from the ship, so I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked back. I caught no end of shit. Especially because the moment I stepped foot on deck, someone snatched the towel. Embarrassing part was, it was a coed crew. And I’d been crushing on one of the girls.”

“Lucian, buddy, you gotta tell us more stories. I always got the impression you were just this side of perfect.”

Lucian shook his head, smiling. “I don’t think so.” He glanced at me. “My recommendation to you is to get Xavier to make you some food before you start drinking, or you’ll pass out too soon and wake up hungover with too much daylight left.”

“You’re younger than me, Lucian—how do you know this stuff?”

He just shrugged. “The drinking age is lower in most other countries, and when everyone on the crew is drinking below deck on a transpacific haul, no one really stops to ask if you’re twenty-one.”

“Oh.”

I made my way to the bar with Eva, and I was in luck, because Claire was already in the booth, laptop open in front of her, fingers flying on the keyboard, and Dru was on the other side, watching something on an iPad. When Eva and I showed up, there were greetings all around, a welcome for Eva from both women, and then we four sat down. I decided to head questions off before they started.

“Canaan ran away,” I said, as we settled in. “So I’m here to get wasted.”

Claire let out a sigh, and closed her laptop. “Well, that’s work done for the day.” She twisted in the booth, calling out to Brock, who was behind the bar putting clean pint glasses away. “Hey, babe? Can we get a bottle of Maker’s Mark and four glasses?”

I boggled at her. “Whiskey? I was thinking I’d start slow.”

Claire just shook her head. “Nope, when shit like this happens, sweetheart, you go hard and you go fast.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “XAVIER!”

Xavier appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, whisking something in a bowl. “You bellowed?”

“We need comfort food, honey. Can you hook us up?”

Xavier’s eyes went from Claire to Eva to Dru, to me, settling on me. “Canaan is being difficult, I assume?”

I frowned. “How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “Process of elimination. Claire and Brock are fine, Dru and Bast are fine, and I’m assuming Eva and Baxter are fine since they just returned from an extended vacation together. Leaving you as the only one who could possibly require comfort food.” He glanced at Brock who had just dropped off a brand-new bottle of Makers and four rocks glasses. “And alcohol. Wow, Canaan really messed up, didn’t he?”

I sighed. “I opened up to him, and he bolted.”

“Well, we all struggle with intimacy and forming healthy relationships with females, due to the fact that our mother died when we were all young. I suspect Canaan also harbors some secret rejection that has left him even more unable to form attachments. His dedication to music is total, and I also believe it serves as a stand-in for a real relationship with anyone except the seven of us.” Xavier then turned abruptly and went back into the kitchen, whisking faster than ever.

We all just blinked at each other, and Brock even stopped halfway back to the service bar.

“Wow, he, um…that was…” Brock shook his head. “He’s not wrong.”

I massaged my temples. “We’re not talking about this. I came here specifically to avoid talking about Canaan.”

Claire poured whiskey into all four glasses and lifted hers in preparation for a toast. “Here’s to men: sometimes getting the right one to man up and love you like you deserve requires a little bit of heartbreak first, just so you can appreciate how amazing it is when you finally get it.”

I stared at her. “I’m not toasting to that.”

Eva leaned close, gesturing for us to all do likewise. “Here’s to the Badd brothers, and the amazing things they can do in bed.”

Claire howled, Dru cackled, and I just bit my lip. “Now that I’ll toast to!” I said.

We clinked, and drank, and that was the beginning of a day I only have vague recollections of. I know there was a lot of food, courtesy of Xavier, and I know at some point we got so loud Brock and Zane had to escort us upstairs so we didn’t bother the rest of the customers, and I know at one point Tate showed up while we were trading dirty stories about men who weren’t our current men, and I ignored her because I wasn’t having any of that shit, and eventually she left again. Which is understandable. She was sober, we were all colossally hammered, and she and I weren’t in a good place. I remember laughing my ass off with the girls, and I remember Dru trying to get me to tell her what had happened, and I may or may not have lost my mind at her, screaming incoherently, sobbing, trying to slap her…all of which she handled with more aplomb than I would have in her situation. I think I passed out, after that, or blacked out. Not sure which—I don’t remember anything else.

Which, after all, was the point: get so drunk I could forget about Canaan.

---

I woke up and wished immediately that I hadn’t. Even my pulse was too loud, and my stomach was a pit of boiling acid, and my mouth was so dry the Mojave seemed like an oasis in comparison, and my head hurt so bad I wanted to cry. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t.

So I got up, stumbled out of the bed, somehow found a bathroom, peed, and drank water straight from the faucet until my stomach rebelled, sloshing, and then shuffled back to bed. Eva was in the bed. She was wearing a sweatshirt of Baxter’s, and she had an actual eye mask covering her eyes.

She must have heard me come in, because, without removing the eye mask, she pointed sloppily at the bedside table. “Tylenol. Vitamin Water Zero. Shot of whiskey. Orders from Bax.”

I realized I was, yet again, in Baxter’s bedroom, although I have no memory of how I got here; last I knew, I was in the apartment over the bar, sobbing on the kitchen floor, drinking a beer all the girls had insisted I probably didn’t need, but which I was adamant about drinking.

I twisted the cap off the bottle of Vitamin Water, took the painkillers, and then slammed back the shot of whiskey and chased it with more water, and promptly passed back out again.

---

Next time I woke up, I was feeling a little less like death warmed over, and the alarm clock on the bedside table told me it was two o’clock in the afternoon.

After checking to make sure I wasn’t naked—I was wearing a hoodie I recognized as Canaan’s, and a pair of his gym shorts, and although the scent of him on the clothing stirred anger and hurt and confusion inside me, it also stirred emotions I didn’t mind, which I also didn’t dare examine too closely—I exited the bedroom, following my nose to coffee, bacon, and waffles.

Claire was on the couch, laptop on her thighs, giant headphones on her ears, and Lucian was in the kitchen, creating the smells.

He saw me first. “Ah, good. I hoped the food would bring you out.” He poured me coffee and pointed at the kitchen table; I sat, gingerly, and sipped at the delicious black nectar of the gods, bringer of life, and infuser of all things that are good. “Hungover?”

I put a finger to my lips. “Sssshhhh. Not so loud. The world hurts me right now.”

Lucian chuckled. “You knocked out about half that bottle by yourself, you know, and you’re just a slender little thing.”

I winced. “Yeah, well…your brother is a bastard, and I blame him.”

Lucian didn’t respond to that right away; instead, he lifted the top of a waffle iron, forked out a thick, fluffy Belgian waffle, and set it in front of me; there was a bottle of maple syrup, a shaker of powdered sugar, and a dish of butter arranged near my plate. I fixed the waffle with all the trimmings and dug in, moaning at the goodness.

“Ohmagawd, Lucian,” I moaned, my mouth full, “this is amazing. Where’d you learn to make waffles like this?”

He switched bacon from the pan to a plate covered in paper towel and set it near me, then sat down and helped himself to coffee and bacon. “I spent some time as a galley cook. Learned a few tricks.” He watched me devour the waffle. “Want to hear something funny?”

I nodded. “Sure. Hit me up with humor.”

“The waffles are made with mostly almond flour, the syrup is sugar-free, the powdered sugar is mostly xylitol, and the butter is organic grass-fed butter.”

I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

He gestured at the counter, where all the ingredients were still sitting out. “Something I’ve been experimenting with.”

“Well…I would never have known.” I held up a piece of bacon, tried a bite. “This tastes like real bacon.”

He laughed. “Oh, it is. Real honest to goodness pork bacon. No turkey or chicken nonsense here.”

Claire appeared, headphones around her neck, sniffing. “Waffles? Bacon?”

Lucian laughed. “Would you like a waffle, Claire?”

“That would be fantastic, thank you, Lucian.” She poured coffee for herself, killing the pot, and spent a moment making a new pot before sitting on the other side of me. “So. Aerie.”

I sipped, and ate. “So, Claire.” I eyed her. “Last thing I remember is being on the floor of the other apartment, crying, and trying to drink a beer.”

Claire laughed. “Ohhhh god…girlfriend, you blacked out for the best part, then.”

I winced, covering my face with one hand. “Oh dear god. What did I do?”

Claire snagged a piece of bacon and ate it, eyeing me speculatively. “You really don’t remember?”

“Nothing past being on the floor of the kitchen.”

“You chugged three beers in a row before we could stop you, and then you got this hair up your ass about needing to wear Canaan’s clothes, so you booked it over here, and you started to strip before you’d even gotten inside. I had to talk you out of getting naked in front of Lucian, Baxter, and Brock, and I managed to get you into Canaan’s room. You found the clothes you wanted, changed, and then you sat down in the middle of the room, crying, and sniffing the clothes. Poor Corin and Tate were super confused by the whole thing, since they’d been sleeping. Well, I managed to get you out into the living room, and you wouldn’t stop crying. Just…sobbing and sobbing and sobbing, but you weren’t making any sense.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess, clearly.”

“Eh, that’s what we’re here for, hon.” Claire paused, eyeing me. “Do you remember telling us this crazy story about you and Lex Landon, and a pregnancy, and getting an abortion?”

I thunked my head on the table. “No. No, no, no. I didn’t. Please, sweet baby Jesus, tell me I didn’t.”

Claire nodded, patting my shoulder. “You sure did, sweetheart. Every last sordid detail.”

“Who all exactly did I tell?”

Claire made a face. “Um. Everyone?”

I lifted my head to look at her. “Everyone? Like…who is everyone?”

“Me, Brock, Dru, Bast, Baxter, and Eva. Zane and Mara weren’t here, and Tate and Corin were in bed.”

“Literally everyone except Zane and Mara?”

“Yes ma’am.”

I groaned. “Oh my god.”

Claire rubbed my shoulder again. “So…that story. It’s true?”

I nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“And you told it to Canaan?” Lucian asked, setting a waffle in front of Claire and pouring more coffee into my mug.

“I told him, then promptly had a panic attack, and when I got my shit together—thanks to Eva—he was gone.”

“I remember him going up to the door of Baxter’s room where you were with Eva, being about to knock, and then leaving suddenly,” Lucian said. “Maybe he overheard you saying something out of context.”

If he’d heard me say I was too afraid to try to be with him, I could see how it would send him into a spiral—and there’s no way to take that out of context. Shit, if I’d heard him say something that, I’d go into a spiral. Plus my confession…

“I guess I get why he’d run away,” I said, “but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Lucian turned his gaze to middle distance, leaning back in his chair, both hands wrapped around his coffee mug. “This is kind of a mess.”

“Kind of a mess? Kind of?” I snorted a sarcastic laugh. “Lucian, this is an unqualified disaster.”

Claire put her hands over mine. “So…what do you want to do?”

Abruptly, absurdly, my eyes watered, and then a tear dripped down my face. “Shit.” I ducked my head to hide it. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know. Everything hurts, and I don’t mean being hungover. He left, Claire. He left. I told him my deepest, darkest secret, and he turns around and checks out. I’m angry, but…I’m hurt more than anything. I told him because…because I wanted him to know. He deserved to know. Because if we…if we were going to be able to ever…” I trailed off, unable to finish.

“Why don’t you take a day or two and let yourself sort of…back away from everything?” Claire suggested. “Sort through your emotions, and decide what you want. I know things with your sister are also somewhat…strained. You have a lot going on, a lot that’s coming at you all at once. Take some time to process. Let things cool off, emotionally. I know from experience that it’s all too easy to make snap decisions in the heat of all sorts of crazy emotions, but when you take a minute or two to step back and really think, really let yourself feel more than just the hot, crazy intense emotions, it all seems a little different.”

I nodded. “I just…I don’t know what to do.”

She shrugged. “Go get your hair and nails done. Go shopping. I don’t know you well enough to know what your hobbies are, but I’m sure you have something you love doing…do that.”

“Music. I like music.”

“So do music.”

“A spa day and shopping sounds pretty good, too, though.” I sniffled, wiping under my eyes.

“So let’s get the girls together for a girls’ day…” She laughed. “A sober girls’ day, that is.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Although I probably need a shower first. And my own clothing.”

I hadn’t been back to the B&B in a few days. I had been living out of a backpack of clothes, toiletries, and makeup. Once Mom showed up, I hadn’t wanted to go back and face her, but now I had no choice. First, though, I had to get myself under control—I wasn’t about to let her see me hurting like this: she’d ask questions I’m not prepared to answer.

Claire walked with me back to Grandma and Grandpa’s just in time to see the tail end of another blowup between Mom and Tate; Mom stormed out the front door, letting the screen door slam loudly, stomping down the front porch steps in three-inch stilettos, her face a blank mask of anger. She pinned me with a brief, intense glare, huffed, and kept walking. I let her go, exchanging glances with Claire.

“Maybe I should go see about rounding the others up?” Claire suggested.

I nodded. “Might be a good idea. Looks like I have family drama to attend to.”

Nervously, gingerly, I entered The Kingsley’s Rest. Grandma and Grandpa were sitting together on the love seat, Grandpa’s arm over Grandma’s shoulders, their expressions nervous, tight, and anxious; Corin and Tate were sitting together on the couch, holding hands; silence reigned, thick and awkward. Tate looked up as I entered, and her expression morphed through relief, hurt, anger, and uncertainty, before she attempted to smooth her features into neutrality.

“Did I miss something?” I asked.

Grandpa snorted derisively. “Not all, sweetpea. Everything is totally normal.”

“Richard, really,” Grandma chided. “Sarcasm will not help the situation, dear.”

“No, but it sure does feel good,” Grandpa said.

“Seriously, though, what’s going on?” I asked. “Mom left in a huff.”

“I told them,” Tate said, her voice low and small. “I told Grandma and Grandpa that I’m pregnant.”

“I see. And why did this lead to a Mom-splosion?” I frowned. “She already knew, so even Mom won’t blow up twice about the same thing.”

Grandma sighed. “She doesn’t agree with our feelings on how to best handle the situation.”

Grandpa snorted again. “That woman won’t tolerate anyone’s decision or point of view but her own. Never has, never will.”

“Richard—”

“No, Ellen. She’s my daughter, and I’m not going to ignore the way she is, or pretend she isn’t that way.”

I looked from Grandpa to Grandma to Tate, and then to Corin. “So…what was the argument about?”

“What wasn’t it about?” Tate groaned. “You and me running away, Grandma and Grandpa taking us in, me being pregnant…” She threw up her hands. “It was a full-on tantrum.”

“What does she want?” I asked.

“For things to go back to the way they were before we moved here,” Tate answered.

I sat on the arm of the love seat next to Grandpa. “Did we move here? Like, permanently move here?”

Tate groaned. “Honestly, A, I don’t have the energy for that particular conversation with you right now.”

I waved a hand, dismissing the topic. “Fine. So what does she say regarding you being pregnant?”

“It’s all tied together, for her,” Tate said. “She said Grandma and Grandpa should never have allowed us to stay with them, that they should have contacted her immediately and forced us to go home with Mom, that if we were living with them, then they should have kept a closer eye on us. Apparently, to Mom, Grandma and Grandpa are directly at fault for me being pregnant.”

I blinked, trying to process the logic. “Um. So…to Mom, then, you and I are still little girls? Like, we need babysitters? Like, what? Grandma and Grandpa are supposed to be our guardians? Do we need a curfew, now, too? What the hell is wrong with her?”

Tate raised both hands to slow my tirade. “Aerie, you don’t have to convince me of this. I don’t understand Mom any more than you do right now.”

“She’s not in control of the situation,” Grandpa explained. “So…she’s upset. Rachel has always liked to have every facet of her life under control. Being your mother, that control includes the two of you. So when you girls decided to take your lives and your futures in your own hands and out of hers, well…you hurt her pretty bad. It was inevitable, though, so don’t feel too bad. You girls are adults, and you’ve been adults for a while. You’re just now sort of catching on to the fact that being an adult sometimes means making hard decisions for yourself, decisions that may not make everyone else around you happy.”

Tate sniffled. “I want to go back to being a little girl, Grandpa. Being an adult sucks.” She put her face in her hands, stifling a shudder and a sob. “I didn’t want this. I wanted…I don’t know. I wanted a break from Mom deciding everything for us. I wanted to have some fun, I wanted to…and then we got so carried away, and now…” Tate glanced at Corin, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Cor. I don’t regret us, or you, or even this baby, really. I just…” She shrugged. “I don’t know how I really feel. I just don’t know.”

Grandpa rose from the couch and moved to sit on the arm of the love seat beside Tate. “Honey, listen. I know this whole situation is confusing and upsetting. Your mother means well, and she really does want the best for you. But right now, as much as I love my daughter, and just looking at this thing as objectively as I can, you need to do what’s best for you. You have to figure out your own life for yourself. You’re pregnant, now, baby girl. That changes everything. So you’re gonna have to think long and hard about what you want your life to look like, now and especially after you have that baby.” He glanced at me, and then back at Tate. “Here’s the hardest thing for me to say—you have to do what’s best for you. Not Corin, much as I like him, and not Aerie, even if she is your twin. When it comes down to brass tacks, baby girl, all of us are only responsible for ourselves. You’re not responsible for Corin, you’re not responsible for your mom, for Aerie, for anyone. You’re responsible for yourself, and for that life growing inside you.”

“But I am responsible for Corin, Grandpa. I got us into this mess by being so…so forgetful and irresponsible. This wasn’t his fault, it’s mine.”

“Bullshit,” Grandpa spat. “Number one, there’s no sense in playing the blame game. But if you’re going to insist on placing blame, it was both of you—you for forgetting birth control, and him for not taking precautions whether you were on birth control or not. Reality of things is, babies can happen even when you’re on birth control, even through several layers of precautions. A young couple came through here a few years ago, staying here on their honeymoon. They’d had an unexpected pregnancy, while she was on birth control and he was using protection, and she was only a day out of her cycle, so she shouldn’t have been fertile in the first place, and she still got pregnant. This stuff just happens. You have sex, you run a risk of getting pregnant, no matter how you do it, unless you’re having, you know…the kind of sex where—” He stopped with a gruff clearing of his throat. “Well, anyway. You get what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, Grandpa, we all get what you’re saying,” I said, cringing. “Seriously no need for further detail.”

“Right, right.” He resumed his seat beside Grandma. “Point here is that passing blame around is a waste of time. It won’t solve anything, and it won’t help you figure out the future. Accept the way things are, and get on with what you gotta do.”

“I know what you’re saying, Grandpa. I get it.” Tate scrubbed her face and intertwined her fingers in Corin’s, and then looked at me. “It’s just hard, because Aerie and I have been making our decisions together, about each other’s lives for our whole lives. I’ve never even thought about not taking her into account, and now, this thing, being pregnant, it…like you said, it changes everything. It already has changed everything, and I haven’t even had the baby yet.”

“You’ve got that right,” I muttered.

Tate’s gaze snapped to mine, blazing with anger. “If you’ve got something to say, then fucking say it, Aerie.”

I shook my head, standing up from my place on the arm of the couch. “No, not now. You being pregnant does change everything. For you, for Corin, for me, and for Canaan. That’s all I’m saying right now. But Grandpa is right—you have to do what’s best for you. You, the baby, and Corin. What I want, want I wanted, what I thought was going to happen, none of that matters anymore. All that’s left now is for you to figure what your future is going to look like, and I have to do the same for me.”

“Aerie, about yesterday—” Tate started.

I held up a hand to stop her. “I’ll quote you, here—I don’t have the energy for that conversation.” I moved toward the stairs. “You and me are going to have to sit down and have a hell of a conversation, and soon, but right now, I need to shower and change, and get some time alone to think about what I’m going to do about my own life, which is pretty messed up too, at the moment.”

Tate sighed. “Aerie, I don’t want things between us to be like this.”

I turned back and went over to her, bent to give her a hug. “You’re my twin, Tate. I love you. No matter what. It’s going to be fine, okay? We will be fine. You figure out you, I’ll figure out me, and when the dust settles, we’ll figure out us. Twinsies for life, always, no matter what. Okay?”

She sniffled, nodding, and clung to my neck. “Love you.”

I let her go, and went upstairs to shower and change.

I managed to avoid thinking about Canaan while showering, dressing, and then meeting up with Claire and the girls downtown. I managed to continue to avoid thinking about him as we shopped for new clothes, shoes, and purses, and then got our nails done and our hair blown out, and all sorts of fun girly endeavors meant to keep my mind off of Canaan and the clusterfuck that was…well, everything.

It was weird to be out with girls and doing fun girl stuff without Tate. Weird, meaning…abnormal. Disconcerting. Disorienting.

I’ve spent every single day of my life, my entire life, with Tate. All day, every day, forever. She’s more than a twin, more than a sister—she’s…she’s like an extension of myself. You never think about your shadow, right? So she’s not a shadow, which is a tempting analogy to make, here…she’s so much more. She…she’s me. A mirror image of me. I feel her. I am her. It’s…you can’t fathom it, if you’re not us. So, to spend this time without her, to be doing these things, picking shoes and purses and skirts and bras without my twin…it’s almost anathema.

But what hurts, what scares me, what niggles under my skin, like a pebble in my shoe…is the fact that it also feels…normal.

That’s the disorienting part, the paradox, the oxymoron: it is both anathema and inconceivable and bizarre, and also a new kind of normal that feels right.

These girls, they’re family. Claire, Dru, Eva, and Mara—Zane was off work this afternoon and volunteered to stay home with Jax so Mara was able to come out and join us. Let me tell you, Mara is something else. She’s the kind of woman you’d imagine being woman enough to fulfill and challenge and satisfy a former Navy SEAL and man like Zane Badd.

Each of them found her own way to comfort me, to take my mind off things, to keep me relaxed and having fun.

It would only work for so long, but…like Claire said, taking the time to push the events away, to push my initial emotional reactions away long enough to look at the situation with a bit more objectivity did work wonders for me. I even managed to feel, for a few hours, that life was something like normal.

But when we got back to the apartment above Badd’s to unload our haul, Tate was there, waiting for me.

“You went shopping with literally everyone except me?” Her voice quavered. “Nice. Thanks for thinking of me, A.”

“Tate, I—”

“No, of course, I mean, why would I want to go shopping with the girls? It’s not like I’m your sister or anything.” She shot to her feet, shaking her head, hissing in anger as she paced back and forth in front of me. “Nah, screw Tate, right? Why include her? It’s not like she’d need a girls’ day out or anything. I mean, it’s not like I’m dealing with anything stressful at all or anything.”

Somehow, Claire, Dru, Eva, and Mara had all vanished, leaving Tate and I alone in the living room, facing off.

“Tate, stop.”

She halted, staring at me. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” I sat on the couch, keeping my eyes on Tate. “I needed some time, Tate. There’s just so much going on. Between you and me, between me and Canaan, it’s all too much, and I needed some time to decompress, and honestly, that included time away from you. I’m sorry. I love you, and I know it hurt you, but I just…”

Tate nodded. “I get it. My feelings are hurt, but I get it.” She sat down next to me. “So, Canaan? What’s going on with you and Canaan?”

“He left, that’s what.”

“He…left? What do you mean, he left?”

I gestured at the boys’ room. “He’s gone. He packed his shit, took some guitars, and left. Lucian says he was going to Seattle, but no one knows where he is or what he’s doing there, or when or even if he’s coming back.” I leaned back against the couch, trying not to cry. “I told him about Lex, and he ran away.”

Tate was silent for a while. “Wow. I mean…Jesus. He just…left? I don’t think Corin even knows he’s gone.”

“Exactly! He ran away like a scared little boy.” I rubbed my eyes, refusing to cry about this. “I’m so mad at him, T! I just don’t get it! I tell him something I’ve never told anyone, not even you, and he can’t handle it?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Me either.”

“You’re mad at him, though?”

I nod. “Of course.”

“Just mad?”

I sighed, realizing she was drawing me out into talking about it. “No, not just mad. I’m…everything! If there’s a negative emotion, I feel it toward him. I’m hurt. I’m betrayed. I’m not just mad, I’m fucking furious! I hate him for abandoning me. I don’t know…there’s so much…so much anger, and hurt. I don’t even have words for it all.”

“Why, though? Why are you so mad and so hurt?”

“I don’t need a therapist, right now, Tate,” I snapped. “I need a sister.”

“I beg to differ,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder. “You need both. I think you’re in denial.”

“In denial? About what?”

“Yourself. How you feel, and what you want.”

“Maybe I am, but what does that have to do with being angry and hurt?” I asked.

“Everything.”

“Explain.”

She sat up, pulling her legs underneath her to sit cross-legged on the couch. “You have to understand it for yourself, Aerie. If I told you, you’d just argue with me. Deny it. You’d change the subject, and come up with excuses.”

I groaned, knowing she was right. Knowing exactly what she wasn’t saying, and knowing that I wasn’t ready to face it. “I hate you.”

“I know you’re joking, but…it kind of feels like you actually do, ever since I told you I was pregnant.”

“I don’t hate you, Tate.”

“Feels like it.”

“I’m just angry at you.”

“But why? I’m the one who’s pregnant, not you!”

“Yeah, but you being pregnant screws up my plans.”

She glared at me. “Really, Aerie? Me being pregnant screws up your plans?” She didn’t bother hiding the anger in her voice. “Do tell, dear sister, how that works.”

“We were coming back to Ketchikan temporarily. To get away from Mom and her controlling, domineering, momager ways. To figure out what we were doing next. I know you’ve been fed up with modeling, especially after what happened with that douchebag photographer. I get it, and I get that we needed a change of pace. We needed some downtime to plan our next move. But I thought we’d be planning our next move together. I thought we’d get into acting, or music, or…art, or I don’t know. Whatever it was, I thought we’d be doing it together, because we’re twins and we’ve always done everything together. Our brand, everything we’ve built since we were sixteen has been predicated on us as twins, as a unit. You being pregnant is a really big, giant, complicated wrench in the gears, T. Like, what now? What about us? What about our plans?”

“It doesn’t have to be the end of all that, Aerie,” she replied.

But even she didn’t sound as if she believed herself.

“Tate, come on. At least be honest with me, okay? What are you and Corin going to do? How is this going to work for you?” I took her hand in mine. “Grandpa was right, Tate. You have to do what’s best for you. Not me. Not us. You, and that baby, and Corin.”

She sniffled, nodding. “I know, I know.”

“So, what’s your plan?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Tate.”

She looked at me miserably. “Fine! You want to know? We’re going to get married, and we’re gonna stay here in Ketchikan. Corin likes playing at the bar, likes the work, likes the peace and quiet, and being around family all the time. I’m going to have this baby, and I’m going to…I don’t know. Take up photography again, maybe. That’s what I’ve been thinking about, at least. That’s what excites me—being behind the camera, not in front of it. Maybe I’ll pick up the cello again, too—I’ve thought about that. I’m not ready to be a mom, but it’s happening like it or not, and at least here in Ketchikan I’ll have a support system around me. Grandma and Grandpa will be here, not to mention Corin’s brothers and their wives and girlfriends. I was going to talk to Eva about the two of us possibly opening an art studio together. I don’t know. I just know I love it here. This is home, Aerie, and I don’t want to leave.”

I nodded. “That’s what I mean. That’s not what I want, and that leaves me to figure out what I’m going to do, alone. I need to figure out what I want outside of you, outside of us as a unit.”

“It’s more than all of that, though, Aerie,” Tate said, sighing. “It’s more than what I’m going to do, or be, or where I live, or any of that. None of that really even matters.”

“I’m lost, then.”

She smiled at me. “Corin.”

“Corin?”

“He’s what matters, Aerie. I wouldn’t care where we were, as long as I’m with him. I could make it work and be happy anywhere, as long as I have him.”

“Oh my god, Tate, you’re so dramatic,” I said, but the insult lacked sting, because deep down, her words stirred something inside me—jealousy? Envy?

She smiled at me. “Maybe. But it’s true.”

“So you’re totally content just being a wife and a mom? Really?”

She laughed, a bright, happy sound. “Yes! Absolutely. I love Corin with all my heart, and the thought of having my whole life ahead of me, with him in it as my best friend and my husband? It makes things like what I do for a living seem…irrelevant. We’ll figure that out. I’m capable and talented, and I know I can figure out some way of making money doing something fulfilling. Modeling was never that. It never fulfilled me. It gave me a fat bank account, which is nice, and it was fun traveling the world and all that. But all of the traveling and the money has only served to reinforce how much I don’t need or want any of that.”

I shook my head. “See, I could not disagree any more strongly, T. I want so much more. I want to…I want to make music. I want to play in front of crowds, and sell out stadiums, and see my name on a movie soundtrack, and…I want to see more of the world. I want to walk the red carpet. I want…there’s so much I want. And none of it is here, in Ketchikan. I love this place, I truly do. I appreciate the peace of it. I love having people here that I care about. Whatever I do, I’ll always come back here. And I know someday, someday, I’ll make Ketchikan home, but that’s far in the future. I have too many things I want to do first, though.”

She sniffled. “And that’s fine, Aerie. We have to live our own lives. We’re not kids, anymore. We don’t have to go everywhere together, do everything together. We don’t have to be Tate and Aerie, Aerie and Tate, the twins. We’ll always be twins, obviously, but we can live our own lives.” She met my eyes. “I think, at this point, we have to. I think we’d have come to this conclusion even if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. That just moved the timeline up a little, I guess.”

“Yeah, just a tiny bit,” I said, sarcastically.

Tate and I let the silence stretch out between us.

“Where does this leave you and Canaan?” Tate asked, eventually.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I sucked in a breath and held it, trying to fend off the fresh onslaught of tears threatening and pooling behind my eyes. “God, I don’t fucking know! Nowhere? How am I supposed to know where any of this leaves him and I when he’s fucking gone?”

“The only thing I can say about that, Aerie, is that if something crazy happened and Corin were to freak out and run away, I’d be so mad the only possible option would be for me to find him and punch him in the nose, and then ask why he wouldn’t just talk to me about it. I’d tell him I love him, and that being apart isn’t an option.”

“It’s not an option?” I frowned, stood up and paced away. “Being apart isn’t an option?”

Tate spoke from the couch. “It’s just not a thing. Corin and I…being together, being a couple? It’s more intense and more…necessary, I guess, than even you and I being twins, being connected the way we are. You and I, we didn’t choose to be twins. It’s always been a thing. It always will be a thing. But Cor and I? I choose this, Aerie. He’s…he’s necessary. I don’t know how else to put it. I just…I can’t not be with him. It’s not a codependent thing, like, I can exist and survive on my own, I just choose not to.”

“I don’t know how to have that…I don’t know if I even want that. I don’t—” Tears sprang out, staining my cheeks, salty on my lips. “If he runs when I give him the trust I gave him in telling him that secret, then what do we have? I was trying to…I was trying to pave the way for there to be an us. I couldn’t be with him, I couldn’t let him be with me without knowing that about me. That secret has…it’s tainted my life. That secret has ruined anything I could have had with every man I’ve ever known, because I couldn’t talk about it, and because Lex just ruined all men for me, in so many ways.”

Tate hesitated, and then spoke. “See, that’s what I don’t get.”

“It’s complicated.”

“If anyone can get it, I can.”

I sighed. “The way he hurt me, the way he betrayed me…it was betrayal and abandonment and a stab in the back and salt on a wound all in one, and it made it so I just assumed every man was going to treat me the same way. I mean, shit, what reason do I have to trust any man, ever?”

“Aerie, I—”

“No, I mean, think about it, Tate. Our father left us when we were little kids, and he never looked back. He didn’t want us. We didn’t matter to him. We never mattered to him. And then there’s Bob—”

“Bob is a dick and he doesn’t count.”

“I know, but he does count. He left a wife and two kids to be with Mom, and he tried to be all buddy-buddy with us, but…”

“He’s just creepy,” Tate said.

“Beyond creepy. The looks he’d give us made me sick to my stomach.”

“He never did anything, but…”

“I just don’t like him, and never have and never will.” I shivered.

“What does Bob have to do with anything?” Tate asked.

I shrugged. “Because he’s just one more man in my life who’s added to my inability to believe any man could ever be…not a dick.”

I felt Tate behind me. “That’s not true or fair.” She just stood behind me, her voice quiet, but strong. “Corin isn’t like that. Bast isn’t like that. Neither are Zane, or Brock, or Bax…”

“What about Cane?” I turned around, crossing my arms over my chest. “He left at the first hint of shit getting hard.”

“Dick move, I grant you.” Tate bumped her shoulder against mine. “Question is, what are you going to do? Only you can answer that question, Aerie.”

“Helpful, Tate. Super helpful.”

She laughed. “I live but to serve, swami.”

Another long silence.

I finally turned to meet Tate’s eyes. “Doesn’t it scare you, needing Corin?”

“Absolutely.” She answered without hesitation. “But it’s worth it.”

“How?” I asked, in a whisper. “Why?”

“I love him,” she answered. “He’s worth it.”

“What if he leaves you? What if he decides he wants something else, someone else?”

“That’s the risk, and it’s one I’m willing to take. It’s a gamble. He could totally decide that. I have no way of knowing with one hundred percent certainty that he won’t do that to me, at some point.”

“And you’re still willing to give him your heart, your future? Your whole life?”

“Without question.”

“Why?” I asked, because I genuinely had no answer, no understanding, no comprehension of how that could possibly work.

She shrugged, shaking her head. “He’s worth it. Loving him is worth the risk. Letting him love me is worth it.”

“But how can you—”

“He’s not a random stranger, Aerie,” Tate cut in. “He’s not some bar hookup. He’s not some hipster I met at a coffee shop in Greenwich Village. It’s Corin. We played together in diapers. He knew me when I was in braces and thought Baby-Sitters Club was the height of literature. It’s…it’s him. That mitigates the risk somewhat, because I just know him. But this whole thing where we’re in love and all that? There’s no formula for it. There’s no manual, no way to know. There’s no secret. You just…you have to decide if the guy is worth it. You have to decide if having him in your life is enough to risk everything you have at stake.”

“I don’t know how to do that! How do you decide that?”

“Can you live without him? Can you let him walk away?”

I shook my head. “It hurts, Tate. It hurts so fucking bad! He left? He ran away? He couldn’t…I’m not…I wasn’t enough? How could he? How could he? I hate him so much, because I thought of anyone in this whole world, if anyone could understand and forgive me and love me despite…despite my secret, it would be him. But he didn’t.” I was crying, now, speaking through clenched teeth, anger and pain vibrating through me. “He didn’t. He made it clear I’m not enough. That he doesn’t care about me. That what I told him was too much for him.”

“They won’t admit to it, but guys get scared too, A. Guys are just as scared of being hurt, just as wary of trust as we are. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed and scared, and doesn’t know how to deal with it, much less admit it to you.”

I had no response for that.

He’s afraid? How does that lead to him going to Seattle?

My head spun. My heart ached.

I found myself outside, alone, on the docks, a cold wind blowing, tossing my hair, cutting sharp across my cheek. My thoughts swirled and wheeled, and my heart posed question after question, but I had no answers.

One thought repeated itself in my head and heart, over and over and over again—Tate’s words: can I live without him? Can I let him walk away?

Questions of love and the future and all that aside, I deserved more from Canaan than him just ghosting on me without a fucking word. I deserved answers. We may not have a future together, maybe neither of us was strong enough to be able to risk what it would take to have a relationship like Bax and Eva or Corin and Tate have, but I damn sure deserved more than him vanishing on me. Closure, at the least.

What did I want?

More.

I can admit that much to myself. I want more than the distrust and the fear. I want to be free of the poisonous taint Lex left on me. I want…

I want what Corin and Tate have.

I want to be worth loving, to Canaan. I want to need him. I want him to need me.

Maybe that’s never going to happen. But at the very least, he owes me an explanation, and closure to whatever it was we did have—sexual chemistry at least, the potential for more, possibly.

I have a plan, at least, although it’s not much of one—I’m going to Seattle, and I’m going to find Canaan, and I’m going to confront him. What it will get me, I don’t know. But Canaan doesn’t get to just run away from me and think that solves anything, or that I’m going to let him get away with bullshit like that.