Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
My phone vibrates, and for half a second, I wonder if it’s her. That maybe tonight, I’ve finally succeeded in breaking down a few of her walls.
Instead, it’s my younger sister, Kia.
It’s 10:42 p.m. She should be out with friends, not calling me at this hour.
I pick up and hit speaker. “Hey, kid.”
“Hey.” She sounds more subdued than I’m used to hearing from her. Normally, she’ll open with sarcasm or a story about the guy in her psych class who likes to quote Nietzsche.
Tonight, she just sounds tired.
My brow furrows. “Is everything okay?”
There’s a pause long enough for tension to crawl up my spine.
“It’s fine,” she says, but the words wobble. “I just needed to hear a familiar voice.”
That alone tells me something’s off. Kia doesn’t need anyone. She’s stubborn like that.
Kind of like me.
Must be a Van Doren trait.
“What’s going on?”
A faint rustle filters through the line, as if she’s pacing. “Nothing major. I don’t know. Everything just feels off lately.”
“Off how?”
A beat, then two pass by.
“Like maybe college isn’t for me. Everyone around here seems to know where they’re going, and they’re excited about it. I’m just not sure anymore.”
That lands harder than expected. “I thought you liked being at Western. You’re almost done. Graduation’s right around the corner.”
“I know. I just don’t think I’m cut out for accounting. I hated the internship this summer, and the idea of doing it for the rest of my life makes me want to scream.”
I rub the back of my neck, searching for an answer but come up empty. “Can’t you talk to your advisor? Maybe change your major?”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s a little late for that. I’d be stuck here for another two years, and I just can’t do it, Ollie.”
Her voice cracks on my name. She’s the only one who still calls me that. She’s from the part of my life that still feels untainted by headlines, contracts, or expectations.
“Have you talked to Mom or Hayes about it?”
“No. Mom’s so proud that I’m following in Dad’s footsteps. I don’t have the heart to tell her I might not want it anymore.”
I lean against the counter and watch my reflection shimmer in the glass. “You don’t have to figure out the rest of your life tonight. Just finish what you started. Give it a little bit of time to settle. You’ll get through it. Promise.”
“God, you sound just like Hayes.”
I smile faintly. “Yeah, well. As much as it pains me to admit it, he’s usually right about things.”
The silence that stretches between us is one that’s warm and heavy with memories. I can almost see her, barefoot in her apartment, hair in a messy knot, that stubborn crease between her brows when she’s trying not to cry.
“You remember when he made us paint the deck that summer?” I ask.
She groans. “How could I forget? I was eleven and it was a thousand degrees outside.”
“He said it was character-building.”
“Pretty sure you ditched us halfway through.”
“Hey, I had to get to practice,” I say with a grin.
“Right. And I was left to finish with Theo.”
“Exactly.” My tone lightens. “You don’t quit, Kia. You never have.”
She’s quiet for a beat. “You really think so?”
“I know so. College is just another deck in July. It sucks and burns, but you get through it.”
That earns a small laugh. “You always make metaphors sound like punishments.”
“That’s what big brothers are for.”
There’s a faint sniffle from her end and then a low, “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“I should go. I’ve got an assignment due tomorrow.”
“All right. You’ll text me in the morning?”
“Yeah.” There’s a pause. “I love you.”
“I love you too, kid.”
The line goes dead and I stare at the phone in my hand for a long moment.
She’s not fine.
I could hear the weight she tried to hide under her casual responses.
Kia doesn’t call when things are easy. She calls when she’s scared.
I sink onto the couch. The leather creaks under my weight as I think of my sister in her cramped apartment a few hundred miles away, trying to hold herself together. I’ll text Hayes in the morning and see if he knows what’s going on.
It doesn’t take long for my mind to turn to Rina. If I know her, she’s probably busy convincing herself that what happened tonight was a mistake.
I open our text thread again and find my message staring back at me.
I was serious, baby. We’re not done.
I type another line beneath it.
You can fight it all you want, but I’m not going anywhere.
My thumb pauses over the send button before deciding to delete the message. I’ve pushed enough for one night. When the screen goes dark, I set the phone on the table and then cross to the dry bar, pouring two fingers of bourbon before lifting the glass toward the skyline.
“To sticking it out,” I mutter.