Haunt Your Heart Out

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The next morning, there were doughnuts and coffee, as promised, sitting on a tray outside the door. Two tiny foil packets of Advil and two roses accompanied them. I grabbed the breakfast offering and tore off pieces of fluffy, yeasty glazed donut, popping them into my mouth one by one. Jordan had cocooned herself inside the dinosaur print sleeping bag. Only her wavy blonde hair escaped the folds of rustley nylon.

I got dressed, then tugged the curtains open a bit to let some daylight into the room. The monster clock on the nightstand turned to 7 A.M. , the latest I’d slept in ages, even without factoring in the time zone adjustment. A dull ache hung out at my temples, but it seemed that I’d mostly avoided a hangover. I hadn’t been the one pounding shot after shot, though. That was all Jordan. Perfect, always proper Jordan.

“Hey,” I said, quiet enough that maybe she wouldn’t hear it and wake up. I wasn’t ready for a recap of the night before.

“… time is it?” she mumbled into the crook of her arm. She peeked her head out of the sleeping bag. “Seven. Too early.” She flipped the sleeping bag over her face again, then popped up again in seconds. “No, Alex, why didn’t you wake me? Lucas will be here in half an hour. I have to shower and get the kids up, Dad’s going to need help getting brunch ready. Alex, honestly. I can’t lounge in bed all day.”

“Sisterly bonding time is over, then.” I pressed my lips into a line, then handed Jordan her coffee.

Jordan sat up, pressed a palm to her left temple, and accepted the mug with her opposite hand. She blew her fringed bangs out of her face, then looked at me from behind her uncooperative hair. “Was there something else?”

“I don’t know, things felt a little unfinished last night. Interrupted by dizzy spells and hiccups.” That, and her slurred speech was more difficult to follow than her usual faster-than-fast chatter.

“We didn’t drink that much.” She sipped her coffee, then her mouth turned downward in a sour grimace. “Or maybe we did.”

“What’s the deal here? Do I pretend we never had this heart-to-heart?”

She gave me a look. “As opposed to what, exactly? Shouting at him about his affair over brunch? Just play it cool. Forget anything I said last night, okay?”

“Just answer me this—are you alright?” I asked.

“Alex, I am fine. It was the rum talking last night, nothing more. Relationships are simply meant to fail, that’s the nature of the thing. It isn’t sustainable to fight for something when both parties aren’t invested. He’s blowing off steam now. We will either work through it or be miserable forever.”

“Cheery outlook.” I ate the remaining bite of doughnut and dabbed the glaze from my fingertips.

“I’m a realist. We can’t all have your carefree attitude.”

Drunk Jordan considered me independent and strong, but sober Jordan went right back to the same argument my parents had for everything: I was too free-spirited to be trusted with my own decision making.

“Thanks for the confidence.”

“Oh, I meant everything I said last night. Don’t assume that I couldn’t think clearly simply because I’d had a few shots. I just meant that—”

“Jordan?” Lucas’s voice carried down the hall. “Mr. and Mrs. McCall?” The front door clicked shut and the rumbling of kids’ feet sounded from somewhere in the opposite corner of the house. Cheers of “Dad!” and “We missed you!” mixed with laughter and the grunts that came with big, squeezing hugs.

My parents joined the welcoming committee, and James’s voice joined as well. I gritted my teeth and raised my eyebrows at Jordan, who sprang to her feet and dragged her fingertips through her hair a few times.

“Do I look presentable?” she asked.

“As presentable as you’ll ever be after half a bottle of rum.”

“Shit, shit. Alex, shit. Mom and Dad are going to lose their minds. You look fabulous, as ever, not even a hair out of place and your clothes aren’t wrinkled. They’re already furious because Lucas took that shift last night, which is somehow my fault. And now I’ve got rum seeping from every pore.”

I reached for Jordan’s wrist and dragged her to the window. “I’ll cover for you.” I tugged the window open, popped the screen from its frame, and gestured for Jordan to make her big escape. “Sneak around back, take a shower in the guest house, and just pretend you were there all night.”

She disappeared through the window, promising that she owed me one, and dashed around the side of the house to scale the fence into the patio area. I grabbed the sleeping bag from the floor, crammed it unceremoniously into the closet, then took a deep breath before opening the door to greet the newest arrival.

“Morning, Lucas,” I said when I reached the entryway. Lucas was shaking the wrinkles from his jacket before hanging it. “I think Jordan’s still in the guest house. Haven’t heard a peep from her since last night.”

James gave a slight nod of understanding. Finding a guy who would lie to my family for me hadn’t been on my to-do list, but it was absolutely working out.

“Well, come in, come in!” my mother said. “Brunch isn’t for another couple of hours, but we have doughnuts and coffee, courtesy of James. He happened upon a darling little bakery when he and Alex were out yesterday, and he surprised us all with delightful treats. A little more sugar than I’d usually have, but today, I’m indulging.”

She shuffled him down the hallway toward the kitchen. James followed, but I loitered behind until they were out of sight. I wasn’t sure what a cheating asshole would leave behind in terms of evidence, but I fished in his jacket pockets anyway. The snooping paid off: A balled-up baggage tag was crammed into the interior pocket. Destination: Maui. Returning flight landing date: Christmas Eve morning. So much for the selfless overnight shift.

I smoothed and folded the baggage tag and tucked it into my pocket. The kitchen island was piled high with doughnuts and croissants, two four-cup coffee trays stacked one on top of the other, and a giant bowl of strawberries.

I was halfway through my second croissant when Jordan slipped in through the back. “Morning,” she said, her carefully done-up lips curling upward into the parent-pleasing smile she’d worked so hard to perfect as we were growing up. The same one plastered on her face in the billboard ads for the hospital where she worked: the face of the practice.

“I was about to give up on you and drink your coffee. Did you sleep in?” I asked, an eyebrow hitched in challenge. She couldn’t talk back for once, and I was determined to take full advantage.

“Just catching up on the news, listening to a little NPR while it was quiet out there.”

“Hmm.” Lucas nodded as he sipped from his to-go cup. “I’m glad you were listening. I had it on in the car. They were talking about that poet I was telling you about. Did you hear? He read the piece about the freeway, the one I thought you’d like.”

Jordan’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I heard that,” James cut in, to Jordan’s visible relief. “I enjoyed how he connected the known world with the idea of possibility and newness, and how what’s considered the most probable is not always a direct path.”

“Exactly, exactly,” Lucas said. He sipped his coffee, then gestured toward James with the cup. “I like him, Alex.”

“Well, as long as you approve, I suppose that’s all I need.” I gritted my teeth as I sent an overly sweet smile in his direction. I’d never liked the guy, but knowing he was betraying my sister multiplied my distaste. “So how is Hawaii this time of year?”

Lucas flinched.

“I haven’t been, but I assume you have? Seems romantic. Is it romantic?” I leaned on the counter, resting my chin in my palm.

“I’m sure it is,” Lucas said.

“If you were going to suggest a location, would you say Maui is best?”

He shoved a large piece of pastry into his mouth and shrugged, his eyebrows standing in worried arches. He chewed slowly, his eyes aimed just over my head rather than making eye contact.

“Jordan and I have some last-minute shopping to take care of,” I said, snagging her by the arm and tugging her toward my room. “Hope you don’t mind. I’ll have her back in a couple hours.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” she whispered. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have obligations. I have to start the bread and help Mom with the hens.”

“We have hours. Come on. We need to talk about …” I shook my head. “Just, we have to talk.”

“Fine, I’m coming. I swear, Alex, you can be so dramatic.” She slipped on her simple black ballet flats that turned her skinny jeans and slouchy sweater into a masterpiece of casual style and retrieved her bag from its place on the entryway side table.

“Need anything else for dinner, Mom?”

“I have everything we need; enjoy yourselves. And don’t rush back, it’s so rare that the two of you get along this well. A Christmas miracle.”

I shuffled the jackets on the coat rack, and a familiar texture grazed my knuckles. I gripped James’s Yankees cap and pulled it off the hook.

“I’ll stay behind. There’s a post-production supervisor who lives nearby and has agreed to meet with me so I can ask a million questions about wrapping on the film.”

“Nerd,” I said, ignoring the sinking feeling in my chest at the mention of filming ending.

“Go enjoy your sister time,” James said, leaning against the wall.

If only it were that simple. “You sure?” I asked.

“I’ve got this under control. I’ll just wow your mom with my knife skills any time she gets too personal.”

I didn’t have the energy to think about the ways my parents would pick at him, asking questions they had no business asking. But he didn’t need me to protect him. He was an adult, and besides, he’d probably already figured them out based on what I knew of his father.

I ushered Jordan into the driveway, tugged on the passenger side door of her car, then gestured for her to unlock it when the door didn’t budge.

“Why yes, Alex, I’d be delighted to be the chauffeur, of course.” She fished in her purse for the keys, and I dove into the vehicle the moment the lock popped. “Had I known I was required to drive, I may have worn different shoes.”

“Oh, shut up, you look fantastic. At least you got to shower.” I ran my fingers through my unwashed hair and cringed at the greasy mess. I wasn’t even wearing mascara, which wasn’t abnormal—but I at least tried to look decent when I had to stand beside my tall, poised, perfect sister.

Their house was barely out of sight before I started in on her. “Please tell me you’re going to divorce him.”

“Divorce is not the answer. If I ever confront him about it—and that’s a giant ‘if,’ because I can’t call him out without evidence or I’ll look like a moron—we’ll figure it out. That might mean we try counseling. That might mean I agree to let him have his life on the side because it’s better for the family.”

“I’m not just saying this because I hate the guy,” I said. “You need to end things with Lucas. Divorce that cheating asshole.” I focused on her profile; the muscles twitched as she clenched her jaw and swallowed.

“A divorce affects more than just me, you know. Other people are involved.”

“Yeah, your husband, who obviously doesn’t deserve your love and patience.”

“No, he doesn’t. But do you seriously think that if we get divorced, he’ll stick around for the kids? If I tell him to get out, do you think they’ll see him again?” Her chin wobbled.

“He’s already not around. What kind of argument is that? Did you know that Isaac told me last night Lucas missed his final soccer game? He promised he’d be there, but he didn’t show. Zero explanation. Levi said he almost missed their birthday party—their birthday party , Jordan—and when he showed up, he barely glanced up from his phone. They’re already feeling the separation, and you’re still together.”

Jordan’s knuckles blanched as she wrung the steering wheel. “Leaving him won’t fix anything. At least if we pretend, he has a chance to come to his senses.”

“If you stay with him, how long until you have to explain to the kids why he works so late every night? And how long until they realize they’ve been lied to? Sometimes, sticking around is the bigger problem.”

“Funny, I never pegged you as a quitter.”

“Because I don’t think you should let your husband run around behind your back while you keep it together at home?”

“I said we’d work it out.”

“You work things out when he buys a stupid timeshare or gets a new car without discussing it with you. You talk about a gambling problem. Not cheating. Never cheating.”

Jordan didn’t respond. She held her hands at ten and two and kept her eyes on the traffic ahead of us. We’d gotten to the shopping mall and swung into the parking garage before she spoke again. “You’re not always right, you know. Giving up on my relationship might seem easy for you because you can make it on your own. You know how to thrive. I’ve never had that chance. I don’t want to hear another word about how difficult your life is. It doesn’t have to be difficult. Part of me thinks that you like it when the world kicks you. It gives you another chance to brush yourself off and tell the world that you’ve got this, you’re fine.”

If she only knew. Though maybe she had more of a handle on how outward appearances could lie than I’d realized. “I’ve been fine so far, haven’t I?”

“If you’re so fine, then why haven’t you bought that bookstore you love so much, huh? Or done anything with your life?”

I barked a laugh. As if it were so simple. “Success isn’t always dollars or empires. Sometimes success looks like the quality of the people you have in your life—and that doesn’t mean powering through a relationship that’s not working. The wrong people are worse than no people.”

She scoffed. “Oh, we’re back to the ‘woe is me’ mantra, are we? Of course my marriage issues come back to how horribly you’ve been mistreated—”

“Whatever, do your thing. Stay with him. But don’t be surprised when you realize that his tan isn’t from your fancy rooftop pool or that the extra shifts he’s been taking out of the goodness of his heart require a red-eye flight instead of a quick drive home.” I pulled the luggage tag from my pocket and held it between my index and middle fingers. She squinted at the text, her face morphing from anger to confusion to disappointment—then back to anger.

“Out of my car.” Jordan pointed into the dim parking garage. Her nostrils flared with each breath and her chest rose and fell at a quickened pace. “I do not need to sit here and have you explain exactly how much I’m ruining my life by making the decisions I have to make. If you can’t support me, you can walk home.”

I clenched my teeth and huffed, then grabbed the door handle and shoved the car door open. I half tumbled from the vehicle, tossed the baggage tag onto the passenger seat I’d vacated, then slammed the door behind me.

Jordan turned on the engine and squealed out of her parking spot.

So much for that bonding experience.

I scanned the lot, looking to see if anyone had witnessed her dramatics. But it was just me, standing all alone in the dim yellow glow of the flickering fluorescent overhead lighting.

I reached for my phone, but my back pocket was empty. Of course.

I plodded my way down the stairwell to the street, kicking bits of gravel along the way.

After two hours of walking at a brisk pace, I dragged my feet up the steps and through my parents’ front door. I’d missed brunch, judging by the rattle of my mother’s antique wooden rolling pin drifting down the hall. She was probably on the third pie crust by now. Guests had to have options, after all. That’s common courtesy. Roll, press into the pan, and blind bake—it was like clockwork after so many years. The crust never tasted the same as my Gram’s, never quite so flaky and light, but my mom churned them out every year anyway.

Lucas and Jordan were unaccounted for, though Jordan had left my phone on the entry table, so I had a connection to the world at large again. James was sprawled on the living room floor, a wicked grin on his face as he decimated my nephews at Life. Get used to it, kids, that’s one game you’ll never win—no matter how far ahead you think you are.

“Hey,” James said when he caught my gaze lingering. “I’d get up for a proper hello, but I have a game to win.”

Isaac bounced on his knees, like he was pleased to be deemed important by the cool, new adult.

“He knows the best rules,” Levi said. “Like, when you don’t have enough dollars for the stuff you land on, you can ask for the trivia round and if you answer right you get to skip the payment stuff. I got it right nine times, and James says it’s because I’m brilliant.”

“I’m brillianter, though,” said Isaac.

“I think we can claim equal brilliance here, all parties are winners.” I squeezed in to sit on the chair behind James. He grinned up at me, then took his turn spinning. I reached forward and dragged my fingertips through his hair, enjoying the way his body relaxed at the contact. As much as I had hated the idea of this trip, he was settling in better than I could have imagined.

“He’s fun,” Levi said. “He even lets us say ‘dang it’ when we lose a turn. Mom never lets us say ‘dang it’.”

I smiled. “He lets me say ‘dang it’, too. He’s cool like that.”

“Dang it,” Isaac groaned, glaring at the spinner, which placed him on a “you’re fired” space. “Can I spin again?”

“You get one spin, that’s the rule,” James said. “Anything else gives you an unfair advantage, and we can’t have that. I’ve already told you the secret trivia rule.”

The game continued without argument over take-two turns or special treatment. The man was a master at kid wrangling.

“What else have you talked about with fun James?”

“He says he has friends all over the whole country, like in a lot of cities. But it’s been a long time since he saw some of them, and he misses them.”

“Yeah?” I asked, raising a hand to squeeze James’s shoulder.

“He said sometimes people have to leave because that’s the way life goes. Like how sometimes the game doesn’t work how we like but that doesn’t mean we didn’t try. And sometimes people try but can’t win so they try something new.”

“Big life lessons to be teaching nine-year-olds,” I whispered.

“Seemed timely,” James said.

My fingers halted against his scalp. Timely how? Like, he’d decided he wasn’t going to be sticking around after all and he was gearing up for his next new adventure?

“Maybe family matters should remain within the family,” I said, the hardness in my tone amplified to convey the exact gravity of the situation he’d created.

James leaned back to look at me, confusion behind his eyes.

“Never mind, I can’t deal with this right now. I’m going to help my mother. Please stick to cartoons and fart jokes until further notice. No heart-to-hearts allowed until I’ve given express permission to engage. Enjoy the game.”

I stormed into the kitchen and pulled my hair back into a ponytail tight enough to tug at the roots. “Where are we with the pie-baking? Jordan ditched me at the mall, and I need to roll some dough or chase after her with the rolling pin. And I’d rather not run, because I just walked six freaking miles home.”

“She did what?” My father pulled his glasses down the bridge of his nose and peered at me over the top of the frames. “Well, you must have provoked her, in which case, I’m likely to side with her in the matter.”

“Ugh!” I marched into my room and slammed the door. It didn’t have the satisfying creak and smash that my bedroom door back in Vermont had, but it echoed sufficiently, given the situation.

Before I’d had the chance to sulk appropriately, a soft tap sounded at my door. I dragged myself from the bed and pulled the door open to reveal James. He scrubbed at the back of his neck, a frown on his face.

“I feel like … some wires got crossed?” He pressed his lips into a line.

“Jordan left me at the mall and made me walk home because I dared suggest she leave her cheating jerk of a husband. I have blisters. I want to go home to my cozy house to sleep in my own freaking bed. And I don’t have a Christmas present for you because I didn’t know what to get you so now you don’t get to open anything tomorrow.”

“Whew,” James said. He slipped into the room and clicked the door closed. “Anything else?”

“And … and I’m mad about it.” I flopped onto the bed and pulled the edge of the pillow over my face. “Oh.” I let the pillow flop back open so I could glare at James. “And you’re having a heart-to-heart with my nephews about people leaving and the timing is suspicious.”

James sat beside me, slid up beside my feet, and squeezed my ankle. “Suspicious, how?”

“Like you’re preparing them for something. Like their dad leaving. Or, like … you … leaving.”

James muffled a tiny laugh. “Or maybe like their friend is moving to Colorado, and they won’t be seeing him anymore. They wanted to know what it was like to move after they heard how many places I’d lived.”

I slid my arm up to hug the pillow around my face again. “Oh.”

“You’re worried about me leaving?” His voice was soft.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Traveling is what you do. You and Julian wander the country making films—how do I know Vermont is a long-term thing? If you were the ‘stick around’ type, you’d have registered your car in any of the dozen cities you lived in, or at least signed more than a month-to-month lease. What happens when it’s time to move on, and I can’t go with you? What then?”

“Listen,” James said, sliding closer and moving the pillow from my face to make eye contact. “There’s something I have to tell you. I’m not sure how you’ll like it. I know how you feel about change, but—”

Levi and Isaac called for James then, their voices echoing down the hallway toward my room. His eyes shot to the door. If he was about to make some big confession about his plan to leave, or worse, beg me to leave with him, I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I’d probably get angry and kick him out or cry in front of him. Either way, it wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have on Christmas Eve, at my parents’ house.

“He’s in here!” I called. The stampede of kid feet shook the floors and rattled the door, and they busted into the room and charged him.

“James, you have to come back. Isaac is cheating, and he took all of your dollars for his pile.”

“No, I didn’t, liar. Why are you always lying? I only wanted to straighten the pile up because it was falling over. James, you have a lot of money in your pile. At least, like, a million.”

“A million, huh? Maybe enough to buy something extra nice, then. Shall we go see which piles of cash look different since I left?” He squeezed my ankle again, then stood. “Can we talk later?”

I smiled and nodded—then resolved to avoid the conversation at all costs for the rest of the trip.