Page 12 of The Last Goodbye

“She doesn’t show up unless it suits her,” I added. “And you know that.”

That was the problem.

She did know.

She just didn’t want to stop hoping.

And I hated that I understood exactly why.

“She’s sober and she has a good job, and she’s saving up to move back to Blue Sky Bay.” The hope in her voice made my chest squeeze. This weird mix of emotion flooded me. I was frustrated that my sister would have any faith in a woman who’d lied to her throughout her entire life, and then I also had this weird tinge of guilt that I couldn’t just allow her to have it.

Who the fuck am I to take the wind from her sails?

But I couldn’t help myself. It was like asking me to stand by and watch her put her hand in fire.

“Come on, Jov, don’t get sucked into this bullshit. How many times are you going to let her do this?”

“So, I should never allow a space for her to change? She’s an addict, Bass. I’m aware of that. Alcohol, drugs, men—I know. But I also know that people can change. She’s sober, and that’s the first step. And it’s never too late to say you’re sorry.”

“You’re serious?” A sarcastic laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. “And did you get that apology?”

“She feels bad about everything.” Her voice was quiet, cautious, and I fucking hated it. The one person we would always disagree about was our mother. For whatever reason, my sister looked at her through a very different lens than I did. “She wants to improve her relationship with both of us.”

“That’s rich,” I said. “At least there’s only one way to go, because it can’t get any worse than where we’re at. You know that, right?”

She was quiet. I knew her well enough to realize that she was processing my words.

“She’s not perfect,” she finally said.

That landed like a spark on dry wood.

“‘Not perfect’?” My voice sharpened before I could stop it. “She stood there and watched while her boyfriend beat the shit out of you. Do you remember that, Jov? Because I sure as shit do. Every fucking second of it.”

And I did.

Not just the moment itself but everything surrounding it.

The way Jovi had looked at me afterward, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be hurt. The way she’d tried to shrink herself smaller than the damage.

The way I’d felt something in me break cleanly in half, and it never quite stitched itself back the same way.

“She didn’t even bother to set her drink down,” I said quieter now, controlled in the way anger gets when it’s been carried too long. “She did nothing.”

“She was drunk and you know it,” Jovi shot back, louder this time.

“That doesn’t make it disappear,” I said. “It doesn’t undo what he did. That motherfucker gave you a fat lip and a black eye.”

“And you gave him one right back,” she snapped.

A beat of silence followed that.

I exhaled slowly as the memory tightened in my chest.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “I did.”

And I would’ve done a hell of a lot more than that, but I didn’t because she was there.

Because Jovi was watching me like I was the only thing keeping the whole situation from tipping completely out of control, and I couldn’t be that for her and lose myself at the same time.