Flaunt, page 21
Therapy is the one nice thing she could’ve done for me. Of course, she didn’t. I never thought for one moment that she’d play the same games with Bethany.
Bethany pulls away and then digs in her backpack for a tissue. Sweet girl.
The loneliness in her eyes is salt on a wound in my soul that has never healed. There’s always something in the back of my brain, even now, that tells me to prepare for having my world thrown upside down. To be ready to have my safety net cut.
To be alone.
“I understand what you’re going through,” I say, plucking the hair stuck to her cheek away. “And, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t have a great solution.”
“Can I stay here with you?”
I sigh. “I’d be fine with that, but this isn’t my house, and your mom needs to know where you are.”
“She’ll kill me, Sara. I skipped school today. I know they robo-called her to tell her I was absent because they always do when you miss a day. But I just can’t see her. She’ll be madder than she was this morning, and I just needed some space.” She dries her eyes, then drops her hands. “How hard is it to give someone space?”
I grin. She’s not as different from me as she might think.
“Look, I can’t say she won’t be mad,” I say gently. “But I know your mom loves you more than the universe. When she calms down, I’m sure you can have a rational conversation …”
A bright-blue sedan speeds up the road, coming to a stop at the end of Banks’s driveway. Bethany jumps to her feet, a hand clutching my arm.
I stand too. “It’s okay.”
Sabrina and a man I’ve never seen before, Gary, I presume, get out of the car. He stays next to the door while Sabrina marches across the lawn.
“Where have you been, young lady?” Sabrina shouts, stopping at the base of the steps. “Answer me. Have you been here all day?”
Bethany swallows hard. “No. I was at the park. I just got here.”
“I was starting to think you were dead. Your phone was off and your location tracker wasn’t able to work, and I’ve been scared to death.”
I bet Bethany turned her phone on to find Banks’s address.
“Get in the car,” Sabrina says, the words crisp enough to cut you. “Now.”
“Sabrina, wait—”
“I’ll get to you in a minute.” Her eyes flare. “Bethany, now. I’m not telling you again.”
Bethany picks up her backpack and gives me a long hug that only seems to piss her mother off more.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I’ll do what I can,” I whisper.
“I love you, Sara.”
Tears pool in my eyes, and I give her another squeeze. “I love you too, Bethany.”
“Now, Bethany,” Sabrina barks.
She pulls away from me, slings her backpack on her shoulder, and lifts her chin in defiance. That’s my girl. Don’t let her break you.
Sabrina follows her toward the car, saying something too quietly for me to pick up.
I descend the steps and step into the sun. Out of my peripheral vision, I spot Jess still standing in the spot we left him.
Great.
Bethany climbs in the car and slams the door. Sabrina whips around and storms back to the house with her finger pointed at my face.
My stomach tenses as I prepare for an onslaught.
“How dare you talk to my daughter about anything!” she says, almost spitting the words as she stops feet in front of me. Her finger shakes with anger, and her words get louder. “You don’t have a clue what you’re doing. Hell, Sara, you’re a child of the streets.”
What? I grin at her, trying to stay calm. Bethany doesn’t need to see a screaming match between us. “And whose fault is that?”
“Certainly not mine, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She drops her finger. “Your father had given up on you well before he met me.”
“I was ten years old. So you know …”
We stand toe-to-toe, eye to eye. I want to run inside and away from this mess, but I can’t back down to her. I won’t. I’ve done it too many times.
Foxx’s truck inches down the street. He rolls the window down. He doesn’t have to say a word; I can read his question on his face. Are you okay?
A well of emotions rises in my chest as I wave at him. He gives me a nod, dragging his gaze across the front porch, and then pulls up his driveway at the end of the lane.
“You really still are the same ten-year-old little girl who I met back then,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You’re twenty-five, Sara. You’re living with a man who I didn’t know you were even seeing until last week. You’re unemployed. Your belongings are in my garage.”
“I’ll get them.”
“Doesn’t this embarrass you?” she asks, the words growing louder. “Do you have any sense of humility at all? Do these poor people understand who they’re dealing with here?”
The door squeaks behind me. Banks. Tears fill my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks. Despite my practiced ability to hold my emotions, this time it’s a struggle.
I don’t want my little sister going home with this woman. I also don’t want to fight with Sabrina. Worst of all, I don’t want Banks witnessing this dysfunction, and Foxx and Jess watching as I bring all of this drama to their brother’s doorstep. Literally.
“You are tainting my child,” she sneers. “I shouldn’t have let you around. I’ve been entirely too nice to you.”
“And I’ve been entirely too nice to you by letting you stand out here for this long,” Banks says, putting his arm around my shoulders. “You need to leave. Now.”
His eyes blaze with a fire I’ve never seen in them before. I didn’t even see this the night in the bar that ended with his arrest.
My heart aches for my sister, for me, for Sabrina—and for Banks for having to deal with this.
“Oh, you have someone fighting your battles for you, huh?” Sabrina says smugly.
“Sara can take care of herself,” Banks says. “I’m pretty sure you taught her the necessity for that.”
“You don’t know shit.”
Banks grins. “I know that you aren’t going to roll up to my house and disrespect her. I know you better not take that little girl home and treat her like this.”
“She’s my child. You stay the hell out of that conversation.”
“Just some friendly advice.”
Sabrina clenches her fists at her sides, and she walks backward down the sidewalk. “Your shit will be at the end of my driveway. Get it before morning or it’s going in the garbage.”
He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. I wave at Bethany, hiccupping back a sob, as they speed off.
My emotions are all over the place, and I don’t know where to start to pick them apart. All I know is that they’re the tangled, messy web that I work really hard to avoid.
I’ve been sliced wide open, the ugliness inside me spilling out for everyone to see … and every Carmichael on this street has watched my mortification. Not sure how things could get worse.
“Doesn’t this embarrass you? Do you have any sense of humility at all? Do these poor people understand who they’re dealing with here?”
“Let’s go,” Banks says, kissing me again.
“Where?”
“I’ll put a pizza in the oven while you get a bath.”
I look up at him and take him in. Handsome face. Kind eyes. Genuine empathy.
He nudges me toward the door. “It’s so much easier not having to walk across the street to get a frozen pizza. Who knew?”
Even though I don’t feel like smiling, I can’t help it. Because it’s Banks—the man who not only stood up for me but stood by me. The man who was kind to a little girl he doesn’t know, and firm to a woman he’d naturally despise. And he did it all with grace and class.
"Sara can take care of herself. I’m pretty sure you taught her the necessity for that … I know that you aren’t going to roll up to my house and disrespect her.”
The man who is fierce yet gentle, strong yet kind.
The man who I think I’ve fallen in love with.
25
Banks
“Open up.” I smirk, dangling a piece of pizza over the bathtub. “I’m not usually talking about pizza when I say that.”
Sara gives me a small smile. I’ll take it.
She’s been quiet since the whole Sabrina bullshit went down an hour ago. I don’t blame her at all. I have no idea what it would be like to have someone talk so much shit to you—intentionally tear you down and hitting you where they know your wounds lie—and then have to pick up the pieces and go on.
I’d probably knock them out. Not that it would help because, if it would, I would’ve grabbed the guy accompanying Sabrina and put him to sleep.
That’s the thing—I don’t know how to make this better. I don’t know how to fix it. That makes me feel like a failure.
Sara leans up and bites the tiniest end of the pizza.
“How are you doing?” I ask her, putting the pizza back on the plate.
I stretch my legs, still clad in my dirty work jeans, and wish I was in the bath letting it soak my sore muscles. Wishing I was holding Sara. But there’s a look in her eyes that tells me she doesn’t need that right now and, right now, it’s not about me.
Who even am I? It’s always about me.
“I’m okay.” She pokes a toe out of the bubbles. “I’m worried about Bethany, but I don’t know what I can do.”
I feel ya on that.
“Maybe Sabrina will be more calm when we get your stuff, and we can at least see Bethany,” I offer.
She frowns. “I hope so.”
I give her another bite. It’s slightly bigger than the last.
“I just keep thinking about how miserable she is in that big house,” she says. “Sabrina was a bit more controlled when I was a teenager because my dad was there. We’d fight, and she was cold, but she didn’t completely lose her shit.”
Her toes flick water against the tub.
“How old were you when you moved out?” I ask.
“Eighteen. Hence, my debt. I had to get out of there, and Dad figured I was an adult so I could figure it out on my own. Then he died shortly after that, and Sabrina inherited everything, so that was the bookend for me on that life.”
How does someone do that to their child? Or to anyone they profess to love? That screams neglect. And must only reinforce her thoughts of not being good enough.
Fuck all of them.
My parents bought their children houses on the same street as them so we could all be close. And they say I’m needy. Our family is lucky we were able to afford to do that, but even if we weren’t, I’m sure they would’ve supported us however they could—at the very least, they would’ve always been there for us emotionally.
My phone chirps. I pull it out.
Maddox: Good news. Sara’s rental is ready. The tenant had a warrant and didn’t want the court system involved. So I have the keys. Let me know if you want me to bring them home or if you want to meet me over there this evening.
Fuck. I glance up to see Sara studying me. I have to tell her.
My stomach tightens. “That was Mad. He has the keys to the apartment you were wanting to get.”
Her brows shoot to the ceiling. “Oh.”
“You don’t have to go, you know.”
“Why wouldn’t I go?”
My heart races, and I move the plate off my lap because I feel like I might jump to my feet.
“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “You just seem like you need someone to take care of you tonight.”
I don’t know what I said, but tears pour down her cheeks. My insides scream at me to do something to stop it—that I upset her—but for the love of all that’s holy, I don’t know how.
“Sara …”
She scoots up in the tub. Her breasts sit just above the bubbles, and I can’t even enjoy them.
“I love that you want to take care of me, Banks. You are taking care of me—more than anyone in my life ever has.” Streams of mascara streak her face. “But this … shit, this drama, is a part of my life. It’s an unfortunately big part of who I am. I can’t stop moving forward because something gets all fucked up or else I’d be sitting in your tub crying all the damn time.”
Her words pierce my heart. The look on her face turns the knife and twists it, causing me to bleed all over the bathroom floor.
“Then sit there,” I say, unsure of what else to say. “And I’ll sit right here and remind you of how great things are on the other side of the bathtub.”
At least she tries to smile.
I sit on my knees and face her, needing her to believe me. “You can’t let what that nasty woman said get to you, babe. You are so much more than what she said.”
“But what she said was true—”
“Look at you.” I point at the mirror across the room. “If this is a part of your life, you’re still here. You’re here and strong and smart and beautiful. So fucking beautiful. You’re funny and impressive and so good at giving head.”
She shakes her head, her lips flirting with a grin.
“You’re impressive and talented. You have an interview with Myles Petterson.” I stop to let that sink in. “You did that. He saw you and what you’re capable of, and he wants you on his team. Think about that. That’s amazing.”
She scoots around, her ass sliding against the porcelain.
My brain flies like it does when a new car comes in the shop, and I start mentally planning all the things I need to do and check and replace and repair. It’s like that, only more frantic. More necessary.
More important.
“Sara, she hurt your confidence, but she didn’t hurt you. Do you get what I’m saying?”
She nods slowly. “I hear you, and you’re right about some of that. I know it. I’m not … totally pity-partying myself. I’m still grounded in reality.”
“Good.”
“But that reality includes a whole other side of the coin, Banks.”
“Like what?”
She takes a long, deep breath. It’s one of those breaths that someone takes in preparation for something—a speech, a negative review, something hurtful. A bomb.
A wave of emotions rise in my chest, and I try to think of what to say before she can get the next words out. But I fail.
“I am in my mid-twenties,” she says.
“So am I. It’s a great place to be.”
“Okay, yes, you are. And you have a house, two vehicles, a business—a career. You have a family and Sunday dinners and pizza nights at Moss’s house. A nest egg.” Her eyes fill with pain. “I have … me.”
“Sara, stop.”
“My life is in boxes at a woman’s house who hates me,” she says, hiccupping back a sob. “I have a car that makes a whole lot of sounds when it’s been running for a while, which makes me nervous. I have two friends that have their own lives to take care of, no job, and a hefty amount of debt.”
I watch her wrestle with her words. I want to interrupt and argue all of those points—explain how we can fix them and express how fixable they all are, but I know we’ll come back to this. We need to come back to this. This is the crux of the issue.
The same one I discovered during vibrator gate.
“What Sabrina said tonight is the same thing that Joshua said to me.”
I get up, shaking my head. “I’m not listening to this.”
“Why? Because the truth hurts? Because it’s ugly?”
“Because I’m not going to listen to you talk about yourself like that,” I say, staring down at her. “And you’re not giving either one of those assholes any … relevance. Nothing that either of them said is true, Sara. It’s what people who want to rip someone else down say because it’s the lowest hanging fruit.”
She leans away, and I realize I’m shouting. I take a deep breath and blow it out.
“Look,” I say, crouching beside the tub. “Everyone has things about them that make them insecure. We all have wounds.” I quickly try to come up with something to relate to her. “Okay, like sometimes Maddox will come home from work in his suit and tie, and I’ll think, ‘Shit. Maddox looks pretty handsome. I might not be the best-looking one in the family anymore.’”
Sara grins.
“And if I didn’t prove to myself that wasn’t true, I might believe it. But instead, I go to a mirror and take a good gander and realize it’s just my insecurities screwing with me. There’s no competition. I am the handsomest Carmichael.” I pause. “And that’s what this shit is for you. It’s not real.”
She touches my cheek. Water drips down my face and onto my shirt.
“But it feels real, Banks. It hurts me. And you must be stronger than I am because I can’t just look in the mirror and see this woman that I’m just not.”
I sigh, wishing so much that this never happened. That smiley, happy Sara was with me at Jess’s looking at the baby chickens.
“And do you know what else?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“It looks real.” Her bottom lip quivers. “Foxx and Jess saw what was going on. They had to have heard Sabrina laying into me, and that’s humiliating.” She leans forward. “I’m so embarrassed, Banks.”
“Why? Sabrina should be embarrassed—not you. You did nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She lies back again, dejected. “I told you. This is my life. I’m not like your mom, or Brooke, or Ashley, or Pippa. I don’t have my shit together. Hell, I don’t even have my shit. It’s at Sabrina’s. Probably at the bottom of her driveway by now. Maybe nothing will be left by the time I get there.”
I don’t think that was supposed to be funny, but I crack a grin anyway.
“This is just a glaring reminder that I have a lot of work to do,” she says, the words dropping into the water like a coin in a wishing well. “I have to figure out how to pull myself up by the bootstraps.”
“I’ll help.”
“You can’t.”
“The hell I can’t.” I stand again, my thighs burning. “That’s what happens in a relationship, Sara. They help one another. They’re there when it’s good and even more when it’s bad.”
