She wasn’t overreacting, or feeling sorry for herself. Living in the past, or being paranoid. She was facing the truth.
Jem had put Tressa’s needs over hers. And his own.
“I know why,” she told Kacey later that night as the sisters sat on Kacey’s balcony with a bottle of wine on the table between them. “It’s because I don’t make waves. I get mad, but I get over it. And everyone who knows me knows that.”
Kacey’s silence didn’t hit her at first. Until it hung there, between them, for more than five minutes. She glanced over to see tears sliding slowly down her twin’s face.
“What? Oh, my gosh, Kacey, are you in pain? What’s going on?”
Shaking her head, Kacey looked over at her. “You’re right.”
“What? That you’re hurt?” Ready to call an ambulance, she knelt at Kacey’s feet. She couldn’t lose her. Kacey was her rock. Her foundation. Her...other self.
“Don’t you dare kneel at my feet,” Kacey said, pulling Lacey up and directing her back to her chair. She knelt then, at Lacey’s feet. “You’re right that you’re easy to disappoint, Lacey. To take advantage of. Because your mad is so...not ugly. You get quiet. That’s it. And then you get over it and life goes on. That’s why you got passed over and I got chosen, don’t you see? Even with Mom and Dad. Because I made a stink. I made noise. I made it hard for people to pass me up.”
“So what are you saying? That I should make more of a stink?”
“No! I think you’re perfect.” Kacey ran a hand along Lacey’s cheek and Lacey turned her head, placing her lips in her sister’s palm. “Don’t ever change,” Kacey said. “The world needs more yous. More kindness. Understanding. More selflessness. And the rest of us...we need to protect you from our own selfishness.”
She was talking nonsense, of course. And yet...her words struck a chord. Hadn’t she had a similar thought about Jem? About Tressa taking advantage of his goodness?
Tressa the noisemaker, the one who would create hell if she didn’t get her way. While Lacey...she’d understand. Be steadfast in her kindness. Get quiet. And get over it.
Except that she hadn’t.
She’d gotten out. For the first time in her life.
She walked out on the one person who truly loved her above all others. Forever. When he’d needed her most.
* * *
JEM DIDN’T CALL Tressa Sunday morning. He called Lacey. And when she didn’t answer, he went by her house. His truck was out front right where he’d told her to leave it. He’d told her he’d bring a second set of keys when he came to pick it up.
He pretended that all was well. With Levi by his side, he mudded Lacey’s birthday-gift room. She’d be back. She was as steadfast as the sun that set each night. And when she showed up, he’d be there.
He had a key to her home, just like she had a key to his.
He cooked dinner from the leftovers in her fridge and put his son into her bed. And sometime after midnight, he joined him there.
Tressa had left sixteen voice-mail messages and sent him eighty-two texts. He didn’t respond to any of them.
On Monday morning, after dropping Levi at day care, but before going to work, he called Kacey. And almost dropped the phone in relief when she answered. She was still talking to him.
Boy, was she talking to him.
She told him, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t deserve her sister. And that Lacey had taken a week’s vacation. He was told to leave her alone.
He knew, in Lacey’s world, exactly what that meant. Leave her alone. Do not call her. Do not attempt to see her. Or to contact her in any way.
To do otherwise could mean a restraining order.
On Monday, Tressa left fourteen voice mails. And sent ninety texts. He spent Monday night in Lacey’s bed again. Levi slept in Kacey’s room.
On Tuesday, Jem dropped Levi off at preschool and went to see Sydney. They talked for a long time. When he left her office, he had a name: Brett Ackerman, the founder of a local shelter for abused women. A man who’d been a victim of domestic violence himself.
He and Levi had dinner with Brett and his wife, Ella, while their infant child slept in a bassinet nearby. In a few short hours his life changed forever.
He saw himself, a young self, in some