“Okay, Kacey.”

“I mean it!” I hear Mia’s tiny gasp and I quickly temper my tone. “We don’t need them in our lives.”

There’s a long pause. “She’s not a bad person. She means well.” Livie’s voice turns soft. “You didn’t exactly make things easy for her.”

I push down the lump of guilt forming at the back of my throat, rivaling to take over my anger. “I know that, Livie. I do, really. But Aunt Darla’s way of ‘meaning well’ doesn’t work for us.” My hands move to rub my forehead. I’m no idiot. For the first year after the accident, I put all my effort, focus, and thought into fixing my body so I could move again. Once released, my focus moved on to shoving the memories of my former life into a bottomless well. There were impossible days though—holidays, birthday, and the like—and I quickly learned that alcohol and drugs, while capable of destroying lives, also had magical powers; the power to dull pain. More and more I relied on those weapons against the constant and overwhelming rush of water swelling over my head, threatening to drown me.

That and sex. Meaningless, mindless “take what I want” sex with strangers who I didn’t care about, and who didn’t care about me. No expectations, at least not on my part. Guys from parties, guys from school. If it was awkward for them after, I didn’t care. I never let them get close enough to me to find out. It was the perfect coping mechanism.

Aunt Darla knew what was going on. She didn’t know how to handle it. At first she tried connecting me with her priest so he could confront and rid me of the demons within. This all had to be the work of demons, after all, according to her. But when the demons proved resilient to her church’s powers, I think she decided ignorance was best. “It’s just a phase,” I’d hear her whisper to Livie with a comforting pat. A disgusting, self-deprecating phase that she wanted no part of. From that point on, she put all of her focus on her non-broken niece.

I was fine with that.

Until I woke up to Livie smacking my back to keep me from choking on my own vomit, tears streaming down her cheeks, sobbing hysterically, saying over and over again, “Promise you won’t leave me!” her words a knife stabbing through my heart.

I stopped everything that night. The drinking. The drugs. The random sex. The sex, period. I haven’t so much as looked at a guy since. I’m not sure why. I guess it’s all linked together in my mind. Luckily, I found a new release with kick boxing soon after. Livie’s never completely approved or supported me in this newest addiction but she happily takes it over the other stuff.

I slam the fridge door, not wanting to think about Aunt Darla or the depths of my self-destructive past anymore. “What time’s breakfast?”

“Brunch!” Mia corrects me with a loud sigh of exasperation.

***

The delicious smells of bacon and coffee sparks hunger pangs as we follow Mia into her place. I mentally pat myself on the back for making the right choice. If nothing else, I’ll have loads of energy for the gym today.

My attention drifts over Storm’s apartment with a degree of awe. It’s a mirror of ours except it’s nice. She’s filled the living room with a dove gray sectional, sparkly throw cushions, and little glass tables with pretty crystal lamps. A flat screen television sits on a stylish teak armoire. The hideous green carpet peeks out beneath a cream shag rug. Her walls are a light gray and splashed with candid black and white photos of Mia. Where our apartment looks like a cheap rental, Storm’s looks like a trendy girlish boutique.

I have to admit, as I sit at the table and quietly listen to Storm, Livie, and Mia banter back and forth, I’m starting to like Storm whether I want to or not. Though one would never know by looking at her, what with those distracting inflatables on her chest, Storm’s street smart and she acts a lot older than her twenty-three years. It takes no time to see that. She’s laid back and she cracks a witty joke here and there in that soft, but husky voice of hers. She fumbles with her hair a lot, and laughs easily, and I see nothing but sincerity and interest in her eyes. For someone so beautiful, she doesn’t come across as vain or self-absorbed. Mostly she listens though. And watches. Those shrewd orbs take everything in. I catch her studying the tattoo on my thigh, narrowing slightly as I’m sure she zeroes in on the hideous scar beneath. It’s the one major scar that’s not caused by surgery on my body but from a jagged chunk of flying glass.

She doesn’t ask about it, though, and that makes me like her even more.

“Oh, man!” Storm exclaims through a yawn, eyes red and lined with dark purple bags. Leaning on her elbows, she rubs her face fiercely. “I can’t wait until Mia learns how to sleep in. At least during the week I can sneak in a mid-morning nap while she’s at school.”

“Oh, I was going to ask you. Do you mind if I take Mia to the park down the street?” Livie offers as if she’s been thinking about it and genuinely forgot. I instantly see what she’s doing. That’s so Livie. “I won’t let her out of my sight. Not for a sec, I promise. I’ve got my CPR certification, my junior lifeguard designation, a thousand hours at a private day care.” Livie starts rhyming off her impressive resume. “I even have a printed copy of my resume in our apartment if you want to have a copy. And references!” Of course you do, Livie. “We’ll be back in, say, four hours, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, Mommy! Say yes!” Mia bounces up and down on the couch, waving her arms frantically. “Say yes! Yes! Yes! Mommy, say yes!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Storm laughs, patting the air. “Of course you can, Livie. You spend so much time with her as it is, I’m not worried about your credentials. I should be paying you, though!”

“No. Absolutely not.” Livie brushes her words away, earning my sharp glare. Is she nuts? Does she enjoy eating bologna? Must we move on to Spam?

Livie helps Mia with her shoes. “Bye, Mommy!” Mia shouts on her way out. Livie avoids making eye contact with me. It’s like she has a line to my brain and can read my scathing thoughts.

As soon as the door closes, Storm’s forehead drops to the table. “I thought I was going to die today. Oh, Kacey. I swear, your sister’s like an angel fluttering around with little satin wings and a magical wand. I’ve never met someone like her. Mia’s already so in love with her.”

The layer of ice over my heart melts. I decide maybe I can “try” to be friends with Storm Matthews, giant fake breasts and all.

***

“See you later, Livie,” I grumble, grabbing my things for Starbucks, a scowl twisting my face.

“Kace …” There’s a long pause. Livie’s gulp fills the silence in the apartment and I know something’s bothering her.

“Ugh, Livie!” I roll my head back. “Spit it out. I don’t want to be late for my stellar job.”

“I think I should have stayed in Grand Rapids.”

That freezes my feet. Anger sparks inside me at the thought of my little sister left back there. Not with me. “Stop saying stupid shit like that, Livie.” I tap her nose, making her flinch. “Right now. Of course you shouldn’t have stayed in Grand Rapids.”

“How are we going to survive though?”

“With ten hours of prostitution for each of us. Maximum.”

“Kacey!”

I sigh, turning serious. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I can get a job.”

“You need to concentrate on school, Livie. But …” I waggle my finger at her. “If Storm offers you money again, take it.”

She’s already shaking her head. “No. I’m not taking money to hang out with Mia. She’s fun.”

“You’re supposed to be having fun with people your own age, Livie. Like boys.”

She sets her jaw stubbornly. “When they’re not idiots, I’ll do that. Until then, five years olds make more sense.”

I stifle a laugh. That’s part of Livie’s problem. She’s too smart. Genius smart. She’s never related to kids her own age. I think she was born with the maturity of a twenty-five year old. Losing my parents only exacerbated that problem. She’s grown up too fast.