My life is like a fucking blur over the next week.
I don’t do much—hell, I spend the majority of my time alone at my house once I go back to Los Angeles—but every move that I do make is haunted by her. By Sienna.
I must sound like a pussy for saying that, but I don’t give a shit.
She should be here with me.
So since she isn’t, I do my best to pour myself into my work, to drown out the memory of her with music.
This is how my kid sister, Kylie, finds me one evening.
“Ugh, it smells like smoke and booze in here, big brother,” Kylie says the moment she slips into my music room. “You’re the epitome of EMO right now, Lucas. I just want you to know that,” she adds.
Though I’m somewhat surprised by her arrival—she usually lets me know ahead of time if she plans to stop by so she won’t walk in on something she’ll regret seeing—I ignore her, scribbling down a line of shitty lyrics that barely make sense instead.
Kylie catches my attention again by plopping down on the leather couch directly across from where
I’m sitting and exhaling heavily. “Have you talked to her?”
Ever since I took Kylie to the DMV to get her replacement license earlier this week she’s been on my ass about contacting Sienna. For the hundredth time since my sister started hounding me, I hear myself ask, “Why? What good will it do if I get in touch with her?”
Sighing, Kylie slouches over, resting her forearms on her thighs. “It’s never too late to make things right.”
More than anyone, my sister should realize that fixing fuck-ups is never that simple. I flick my hazel eyes up from my notebook and take in the site of her pale skin. The gray smudges under her eyes from lack of sleeping. She looks like she’ll break at any moment. Yeah, Kylie should know better.
I’ve had to deal with Wyatt McCrae’s frantic calls about her since she came back from New Orleans last week, but I won’t say anything about that today. Not while she’s still so visibly hurt by whatever happened between them this time.
“I take it you haven’t,” Kylie says at last once she realizes that she’s not going to get any type of response from me. “You disappoint me, Lucas.”
Her words feel like claws down the side of my face, and I narrow my eyes into thin slits. “Have you contacted—” I begin, but once I see how her face falls, how her chest suddenly hitches, I catch myself. I’m a fucking monster for wanting to take my frustrations out on her simply because I’m hurting.
“Have you talked to Sienna?”
My sister relaxes, leans back and hugs her arms over her chest. The motion shifts her t-shirt, and I’m shocked that there’s no fresh ink on the left side of her chest, which is covered in tiny blackbirds.
Getting a new bird immediately after a parting with Wyatt has always been Kylie’s thing.
She must realize where my thoughts have shifted to because she flushes and adjusts her shirt, covering the majority of the blackbirds. “No, I haven’t talked to her. Not because I don’t want to, but because she’s disconnected her number. And that’s why I’m here.”
My eyebrow jerks up in surprise. “Even Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe can’t make AT&T change someone’s number back, Ky.”
“I need her address.”
“Don’t you think you might piss her off by showing up at her house?” I’ve unraveled her so much that, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she called the cops on my sister.
“Don’t you give a shit about what happens to her?” Kylie counters. I feel like she’s just punched the air right out of my lungs.
If I didn’t care about what happened to Sienna, she would be here with me right now, and there’d be no reason for Kylie to stop by and play therapist. I wouldn’t care that my time with Sienna could be cut short at any moment. I wouldn’t care about what Sam would do to her, to me. I wouldn’t give a fuck about anything but making myself happy for however long that feeling would last.
No, I care too much.
I flip my notebook closed and shove it aside because it’s impossible for me to write anything today.
I press my lips together and meet my sister’s gaze full on. Our eyes challenge each other for several seconds before I finally shake my head. “I know where she used to live, but now I’ve got no clue.”
“Can’t you find out?”
“No,” I say. “Because I shouldn’t be a part of her life.”
The determination leaves my sister’s expression and is replaced by disbelief. “There’s so much that I want to say, but I doubt it’ll make a difference. And I’m sure that even if I did, you’d just throw my own shit back into my face. But I know you don’t want this. I know you must love—”
I cut her off before she goes too far. “You must not know me all that well.” It even sounds half-hearted, and Kylie gives me a grim smile.
“Fair enough.” I struggle to control my breathing as my sister gathers her belongings, stopping to grab a stack of mail off the desk next to the couch. She says nothing more as she moves about the room, but when she gets to the door she looks over her shoulder. “Don’t think for a second that I buy any of that hard-ass crap. If I told you that I was over McCrae, would you believe me?”
Despite the pain rolling through every part of my body, I allow the corners of my lips to lift into a sorry excuse for a smile. “No, I wouldn’t buy that shit for a second.”
Kylie grips the doorframe. “Then make things right. Screw Sam, screw the past, screw being afraid.”
When she starts to leave, I clear my throat. “Will you take your own advice?” I demand. She freezes, and I stare at her tensed back for a long pause before she glances back over her shoulder.
“Yeah, eventually I will.”
I don’t know if it’s Kylie’s words or need that drives me out of the house, but I find myself in my car less than ten minutes later. I locate Sienna’s new apartment quickly, but I don’t stop the Audi. I’m not ready for that yet, and to be honest, I don’t think she is either.
I drive right past just as the plan to get her back hits me square in my fucking jaw. I fumble for my phone and dial the one number that shows up in my call history more than any other, and the call immediately goes to voicemail.
“We need to talk,” I say. “None of your bullshit or crazy games, I just need to talk to you, Sam.” I know that she won’t call me back until tomorrow or maybe even next week, but I’ll be ready for her.
The moment I step into my empty house nearly an hour later, all thoughts of Sam leave my mind. By the time I go into my music room, the only thing I can think of is Sienna. Her scent, her taste, the way she fucking felt when I buried myself inside of her.
I pull out my notebook and guitar and begin to tell her everything.
Look for Part 3 on Friday night!