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I place the warm mug on the counter, removing the tea bag before setting it aside.
“I keep finding those fucking things everywhere,” Sophie grumbles, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
I want to remind her that if she didn’t come to the main house, she wouldn’t find them. But I’m still trying to hold on to the high of the impromptu orgasm that came from a beautiful stranger. Still attempting to ride those endorphins, days after it ended.
I have to hold on to incidents that were never supposed to happen, just to keep from sinking; maybe that makes my life pathetic.
In so many ways, my life comes in waves. And most of the time, I’m barely able to paddle against them as I am dragged and pushed in the undertow before being spat out again.
I don’t say anything as I take a sip, leaving the tea bag where it is.
“I can see the birthday present I got you was a waste of money,” she says.
My copy ofThe Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Upis currently doubling as a leveler to keep my favorite wingback chair from wobbling. It’d been the perfect-sized gift.
“Did you come here just to nag me or is there a purpose for your presence?” I mutter.
She brings the claws out of me. And as much as I try to keep from getting to this wretched place, it’s fruitless. This is how we communicate with each other. With gnarled words and sharp jabs.
“I’m just here because I ran out of milk,” she informs me, opening the fridge and grabbing the milk carton. “Then I’m gone. The store opens in twenty minutes.”
“I know,” I tell her, bringing the mug to my lips for another sip. Not like I haven’t been opening the place by myself for the past few years.
My free hand kneads my neck as I try to stifle a yawn. Sleep isn’t giving me the kind of rest I need. But time off isn’t an option right now.
Nostalgia hits and I swear I can remember a time where my dad stood right where I am, drinking a cup of tea, watching his little girls run around, playing.
If only you could see us now.
She stares at me like she has something more to say. But I just don’t have it in me.
“I don’t feel like arguing with you, Sophie. Or Elizabeth. Whichever you’re going by these days.” My mug hits the counter with a clink, and I give her an even stare, watching her brow lift and her lips press together. Her hair wasn’t this short before and the tattoos are something I still have to get used to.
She’s beautiful. On her own terms and by her own standards.
Even with annoyance in her eyes.
“Well, whenever you feel like arguing, you know where to find me.” She turns on her heel, and I try not to watch her through the kitchen window as she heads back to her private oasis above the garage.
Good intentions mean nothing when you’re dealing with people who know what it’s like to make you bleed.
Sophie loves me, sure.
But she doesn’t seem to like me too much. And in spite of her moving back to help, we just can’t find the common space where we can be a little more like sisters and a little less like enemies. Except in one area.
The only thing we seem to be able to agree on is that our younger sister Kitty needs to be protected. From life and from our bullshit.
CHAPTER FIVE
SOME PIECE OF SHIT NEANDERTHAL
ELOISE
Truth be told,I never thought my life would look like this.
Dusty and disorganized; a mess of paperwork I never get around to making a filing system for.
No wonder this bookstore has gone to hell.
