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Silence stood sentry between us.
Clearly, she needed to express herself, so I waited for her to regroup and go for it. She was much calmer after the moments passed between my comments and now hers than she was right after she’d caught me ogling her tits. I wish I could say I had planned that, but honestly, it was just dumb luck it had worked in my favor.
“You want communication? You want trust? Let’s add respect to the list. And a whole fucking boatload of it. Because I deserve nothing less. Speaking to me like a child is irritating and disrespectful of my intelligence. I would like you to not do that again. There,” she said with her regular tone of defiance. “How was that for communication?”
“Perfect, actually. I’m completely clear on your needs and expectations regarding this topic,” I answered a bit smugly.
She was spoiling for a fight, and I refused to be the one to serve it up. The air thickened between us as we held each other’s gaze. I was calm and mature in the face of one of her tantrums, and it completely threw her off.
That fact didn’t surprise me at all. I’d known people in my life who acted like this. Even as an adolescent, I had very little patience or understanding of it. Nothing was ever gained, and depending on the tantrumee, tons of energy could be expended on it.
I decided to prompt her a bit by restating the main points of my comments. “You will see that you can trust me to keep your journal and not violate your privacy and read it. Eventually, you will know that you can trust me in all things. But for right now, we start here.”
I gave her one of those winks again and went on.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day. Agatha, when I give you my word, it’s as good as done. I am telling you I will not read this.” I lifted the journal between us again. “I’m just keeping it to ensure you don’t ghost me. When you get it back, you will know I didn’t touch it. In fact, I invite you to put a marker on a page or something that would be disturbed if I opened it. That way you will know unequivocally that I kept my promise to you. As I will always will.”
I wasn’t foolish enough to hand her the journal. Together we crossed her room to a small writing desk, where I maintained hold along the top of the book while she carefully placed a dried flower she pulled out of some bit of décor on the windowsill between two pages.
She stepped back from the desk very carefully. It was as if she were traversing a minefield. She maintained a distressed stare on the book while doing so. Through lips pressed together nervously, a soft whistle escaped when she pushed out the air she had been holding inside.
She nodded slightly at first and then a more confident dip of her head while muttering, “Okay. Okay, there.” Finally, she lifted her stormy eyes and searched mine for reassurance. At least that was my take on what I just witnessed. This was a big step for her, and what started out as a ploy to get my way turned into an exercise of conquering a fear of hers. If nothing else, I would prove to her she could lean on me for strength when she was feeling vulnerable.
Not gonna lie, I was pretty damn impressed with myself and how the situation worked out.
I leaned closer and planted a slow but chaste kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well, Storm. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Six
Agatha
Carmen left after making small talk with my dad near the front door. I shot him every version of a glare I was capable of while he charmed the hell out of my father.
I totally had to draw the line when my mom joined the conversation and started asking things like, “So, will we see you soon?”
Back in my room, I was a whirlwind of pent-up sexual frustration, exhaustion, and indecisiveness. I couldn’t make up my mind if I’d be better working on the article I had due in the morning, unpacking, or calling my sister and pouring my guts out to her.
I was on my hands and knees with my upper body halfway in my closet when there was a knock on my bedroom door. If I ignored it, they’d go away and assume I fell asleep early again.
“Where the fuck is it?” I muttered to the pairs of sensible flats lined up across the floor of the space.
“Dah? You sleeping?” came through the door.
Well, if I were, I’d be awake now, I thought bitterly. It was my youngest, most precious sister, Clemson. She was still in high school and often came into my room just to hang out. She didn’t relate to the twins very well but couldn’t be faulted for it. The age gap was just big enough to put them at different stages of their lives.
Honestly, no one in the house spoke the same hissing and cussing mashup as Sheppard. Something was deeply wrong with that girl, and it broke my heart watching her become a shadow of the person she used to be.
Time and time again, one of us would risk our own life and approach her to try to start a conversation. Every time, whoever the brave soul of the day was would reemerge from the room way worse for the wear. The only person she didn’t really open fire on was our father. Probably because he was the one with the power to kick her ass out on the street once and for all.
“Yes!” I said excitedly to the back wall of my closet. Fingers wrapped comfortably around the neck, I pulled a bottle of vodka from where I stored it last. I only kept it in here for last-minute pregaming before nights out with my friends or Hannah. A nagging voice in the back of my mind—that sounded way too much like my husband—issued an accusation.
“And exactly when was the last time you went out with friends? Or Hannah, for that matter?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I told my imagined spouse and unscrewed the top. I just needed better sleep than I’d been getting. A swig or two would knock me right out, and I could get up early to finish the article with a fresh brain.
“See? Perfect plan,” I wheezed between slugs.
The knock came on my door again.
