one.”
“Pass.”
She suddenly smirked. “I never pegged you for a quitter.”
“I’m not a quitter.”
“Okay.” She went to turn, but I snagged her arm and whirled her back to me. Her chest rose, which drew my gaze to her cleavage. I shook my head clear and tried to think straight.
“There are things about you that make it hard for me to be around you. It’s not something I can discuss very easily.”
“Okay,” she whispered as her gaze dropped to my lips.
My pocket vibrated, and I pulled it free and slowly let go of Sloane. “Hello.”
“Son, you need to come home. We can’t get…” Screaming in the background made my stomach coil into a familiar hard knot.
“I’m on my way.”
And just like that, my reality came screaming back to me, and I felt myself pull in again.
“I need to leave,” I muttered to her and raced back toward the path.
“Is everything okay?”
“No.”
We made it down the mountain within thirty-five minutes. I jumped into my truck without saying a word to Sloane. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk; I just had bigger things on my mind. My world wasn’t meant to be shared with two.
I arrived at my parents’ house in just under an hour. Even from my truck, I could hear her screams. I rushed inside and found my sister with her hands over her ears, her mouth wide open, with tears streaming down her face.
“Oh, thank God!” my mother shouted.
“What happened?” I dropped to my knees and held my twin sister’s head between my hands.
“We were trying to get her in the car, and she just panicked.” My mother pleaded, “She has a doctor’s appointment, and now we’re going to be late. I-I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
I glanced at my father, who was in the hallway, his face expressionless. He looked checked-out, as he often did these days.
“Ellie,” I whispered. “Ellie, look at me.”
Her bloodshot eyes opened, and she finally registered me. “John?”
“In the flesh,” I joked, knowing she often reacted positively to humor.
“I can’t go in the car.” Her speech was slow, but I was patient. “The last time I went in the car, I got hurt.”
My mother sank onto the couch and started to cry.
“El, that was years ago. You’ve been in the car a lot since then.”
She looked at me, confused, and I knew she was trying to search for those memories inside her head.
“Come on,” I helped her to her feet and handed her a tissue, “I’ll take you to the appointment. I think Mom needs to stay home right now. Let’s just go, you and me.”
“Thank you, John.” My mother was beyond emotionally and physically spent. I wished so much I could do more, but I didn’t know where to start.
By the time I dropped my sister off back at home, it was late. Mom had finished making dinner, and Dad was out in the barn.
“Doctor said she was okay, just to watch her salt intake.” I dropped my sister’s pills on the table and kissed my mom’s cheek. “I’m going to check on Dad.”
I walked across the yard and into the red barn that sat a few yards from the house. It had been our favorite place growing up. Our parents had let us decorate the loft and turn it into a clubhouse. Over the years, it became our place to escape from the world of grownups, and now it was where my father came to escape what was happening in the house. I took the twenty-foot ladder three steps at a time and found him sitting on the edge looking out from the massive barn doors, feet dangling, head back, and beer in his hand.
The white twinkle lights lined the opening, giving a warm glow on chilly nights. Three hens cuddled together in the hay and clucked when I came closer.
“Hey, son,” he greeted me with as much warmth as he had inside of him. Lately, there wasn’t much left.
“Ellie’s appointment went well.”
“Good.” He looked away, but I saw the stress that deepened the crow’s feet around his eyes. His dusty jacket hung open, and bits of hay clung to his sweater.
“I can come by tomorrow if you want and help move the hay.”
“It’s all done. We finished up today.”
“Okay.” I tucked my hands in my pockets. “How’s Mom?”
“Hanging in there, I guess.” He tipped his beer back and finished off the rest of it.
My heart squeezed tight; we were not that kind of family anymore. There was a time we