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“Cara?” I look past her down the hall, but it’s empty.
Is she here because she’s my sister or because Nate sent her?
“Are you going to leave me standing here in the hall?”
I don’t immediately move to let her in. “Why are you here? I was just getting packed up to check out.”
See how easy it is to lie? And I judged Nate so harshly for it. Shame on me.
“Where are you going?”
A door down the hall opens, the carpeted footsteps of a couple inching toward us. I move so Cara can come inside the room, locking it behind her when she steps past me.
“Did you even sleep?” she asks, looking at the fully made bed.
“Yes.” Another lie. I laid down, but after tossing and turning for hours, I got up and made the bed. I’ve been sitting in the chair to the right for hours, chewing my fingernails to nubs as if it will help me figure out what to do. The only problem is having no options at all which is worse than having too many to choose from.
Cara turns toward me, and I want to feel this bone-deep connection to her, but the truth of it is, she was shunned when she left. There was never another kind word said about her after it was discovered that she snuck away in the night and didn’t come back.
I’ve tried for years not to feel the bitterness I’ve always felt because she left and didn’t take me with her. I was a young child, barely in double digits, and for the longest time, I didn’t understand just how hard the real world was. Heck, I barely have a glimpse of it now. Why I still hold on to the bitterness that my sister didn’t take me with her and finish raising me, I don’t know. It would’ve been impossible, and in the end, she finally got me out, but I still can’t let it go fully. When someone disappoints you at such an early age, trust doesn’t exactly come as readily as one would hope.
“Have you eaten?”
I blink at her but don’t respond. I’ve already felt mountains of guilt for my lack of food intake. I know it makes me a horrible mother for not providing my growing child the nutrients it needs to survive. I’m already an awful mother for choosing to walk away from the clubhouse where I would’ve been fully taken care of because my feelings were hurt.
So Nate lied, big deal. It’s not like he hit me. It’s not like he brought a woman into the bed we were sharing. Things could be worse. I know things are going to get much worse.
“I wasn’t—”
“I’ll order lunch,” Cara says, crossing the room and grabbing the room service menu from the small table next to the chair I’ve spent hours in already.
“I don’t… Cara stop. I can’t pay for it.”
She frowns at me. “No one is asking you to. Javier put his credit card on file. He expects you to use it.”
“They’re not going to deliver food. It’s already after checkout time.”
“He reserved this room for the week.”
“Why?” I don’t even know the man. What is she going to have to do to make up for what he’s providing me? “Cara, I didn’t ask for that.”
“And you didn’t have to. You’re family.”
She says it like it explains everything. It only serves to confuse me more.
“Now, what do you want to eat?” She looks up from the menu. “Are you in a sweet or savory mood?”
“I have no way to pay him back,” I mutter. “I already owe Nate—”
“Owe Nate what?” She’s glaring at me now. “What, April?”
“He’s bought me food twice now.”
“And he told you that you needed to repay him?” She’s growing angrier.
“No, but—”
“Then you don’t repay him. It’s not expected.”
“I can’t just—”
“You can and you will, April. The people at Cerberus don’t do things with expectations attached unless they say them out loud, and it’s usually like, I’ll make the potato salad if you chop and cook the ground meat for the lasagna, or I’ll sweep if you mop. That’s how their expectations work.”
“Because they’re all family?” She nods. “We’ll I’m not, and I’m not staying there, so I need to pay back what I’ve been given. And I can’t stay in this hotel another night. It’s not exactly the motor inn, so it’s already going to take me forever.”
She sighs, turning her back to me and picking up the room phone. She places an order for a pancake breakfast as well as a steak and steamed vegetables, cocking an eyebrow when she hangs up and turns to face me as if she’s challenging me to say another word.
“You said you aren’t staying. Does that mean in New Mexico or specifically at the clubhouse?”
“I don’t know.”
“I spoke with Javier. He’s fully ready to get a house, and you can live with us.”
