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Taking my magazine and the image of all my teenage dreams with me, I hoisted myself up onto her bunk, the ladder creaking as I climbed. I sank onto my stomach, placing the poster between us.
“I’d be happy to see him completely exposed.” I gave her a light nudge, accidentally creasing Remington in the process.
“Good grief.” She could barely look at me.
“Oh, shoot!” I immediately straightened him out, fearing I’d ruined his perfection. “I wish we could go see him at the concert.”
“That’s what you’re wishing for? Really?” Her blue eyes turned cold, tears rising from the pain inside her. “Well, we can’t.” She clamped her mouth closed, irritated with me yet still keeping all the rage inside until there wasn’t room to store it. “How can you even think about a guy we’ll never meet? A guy who gets to live the high life while we live like this. Our parents are gone before we’re even out of our teenage years! Our home is gone! Our lives are falling apart! We’re homeless, Cat. We have nothing!”
“Shhh…” My finger touched her lips, shutting down the attention falling on us from everyone else in the room. The little ones were no longer running wild, their mother’s shoulders were slumped a little more than usual, and the two women in the far corner, who chatted about the men who’d got them into this mess, no longer chatted.
Words drifted around my silencing finger. “You’re living in a fantasy.”
“What are you talking about? I’m the future Mrs. Cole.” I tried to brighten the mood, forgetting all the watchful eyes.
Rhylie’s hardened features dragged my efforts down.
She turned away, her blonde waves fanning out on the pancake-flat pillow. She hated my change of expression. She hated that she was the cause of the obvious sadness, but it didn’t stop her from replying.
“Guys like Remington Cole will never be interested in girls like us.”
“There’s nothing wrong with us, Rhylie. Especially you. You’re so beautiful.”
“That’s an opinion. And I’ll say it again, take a look around, Cat. We don’t exactly have much to offer.”
“We have good hearts. Well, you do. Mine’s in the right place, but that’s kinda all it has going for it.” I laughed, trying again to lift the mood.
Rhylie’s head twisted to me, her features softening. “You have the best heart.” A sad smile stayed on her lips.
“Tell that to the murmur that will likely kill me in time.”
“I’ll tell that murmur to get lost and go as far as to give you my heart in order to keep you alive. I couldn’t live without you, too.”
We’d popped to the mall as Mom was about to cook dinner. I hoped never to forget how she looked in her yellow apron or the sound of her voice as she complained over it feeling tight around the middle when she tied the knot at the back. I wished to remember her that way forever, her and Dad’s deeper voice telling her she looked perfect to him.
They had no idea of the gas leak when she lit the stove. And we had no idea that when we said goodbye, it would be for the very last time.
Dad’s deep voice was echoing in my head now, and it hurt more than any headache. “Goodbye, girls…Look after each other, please.”
Always.
Thinking of that, of the pain they endured in their last moments and all the pain we were suffering now, brought down my mood, too.
“You look sad. Are you and Remington getting divorced because he’s touching other fans in that daydream of yours?”
“No. He’d never do that.” I closed the magazine, happy to see my favorite rockstar again on the front cover as he smiled up at me, his tongue peeping between white teeth. I liked his teeth. His canines could rival the Cullens, and I liked the idea of his nibbles and the marks they’d leave all over my body.
I pushed that thought aside and ignored the tingles in the region of my panties.
I tucked Remington under my arm and shifted down the ladder of the bunk, tickling my sister’s feet on the way down. She tucked them under the threadbare blanket, rushing to get away from me because she was in no mood to laugh, and she always laughed when I tickled her feet.
“Come on. Let’s go get some air.”
Arm in arm, we walked the streets of San Francisco. The winter sun shone down on us, highlighting the contrasting tones of our hair as we trotted along, purses bouncing against our very different frames. Remington was peeping out of the top of mine, admiring the city he’d play in next weekend.
“Do you think he’s already here?”
“I think you’re fangirling a little too hard.” Rhylie laughed. It was the first time she’d laughed in the two months without our family.
