Four Steps (Four)

Barrett and Bronson swallow in sync, their Adam’s apples bobbing. Lincoln’s tongue darts out and licks his lower lip. Lennox’s eyes are on my chest. When he’s caught, he looks down at the ground, but his gaze returns to my cleavage before finally lifting to my face.

The room has gone quiet. I’m speechless from their reactions, and they seem surprised too.

I finally break the silence. “If you have a problem with how I do my job, maybe I’ll go work at the men’s club in Whitman. I’ve always wanted to be an exotic dancer.”

I have not ever wanted to be a dancer, and doubt I have the coordination or the stamina for the job, but I say it to piss them off, and it works.

“The fuck you will,” Bronson snarls.

“You have zero say over my life,” I tell him. “None of you do. And if you ever had the right to give me advice on how to live, you lost that right when you left ten years ago.”

I’m on the verge of crying, and I’m going to be extremely pissed at myself if even one tear falls.

The men are once again stunned into silence. Lennox has a hurt expression that makes the back of my throat burn, but I stay firm.

“Caroline — Caz, we had no choice,” Barrett says. He steps forward and strokes a finger over my cheek, and I’m too raw to move away. A tiny thing that’s buried deep inside me wants to lean into his touch, but I won’t indulge it.

“We never meant to hurt you,” Bronson says.

The tenderness in his voice threatens to break me. I’m on the verge of crumbling when I straighten my spine and pull my shit together.

“That’s bullshit. People always have a choice. You could have at least said goodbye.”

7

Back then

They let me leave with no objection. In fact, they don’t say anything at all.

I drive home, pleased that I’ve finally gotten through to them, even though saying the things I did has ripped open the wound once again.

I should look for another job. Absolutely. But I’m torn between wanting to get away from them, and not letting them chase me away. I shouldn’t have to change anything about my life just because they finally decided to reappear.

I can probably wait them out. As devastated as she is right now, Rachel won’t need their help forever. After living in New York City, they’re going to get bored on Four Points pretty quickly. They’ll leave again; it’s just a matter of when.

At home, I take a shower, and decide there’s not enough soap in the world to wash away the stress of my day. Hot water and honey lavender shower gel do help a little, though.

I put on a sleep tank and shorts and crawl under the covers, grateful to have an alternate world waiting for me in my Kindle app. I’m not even half a page into the book when there’s a soft but distinct knock at my apartment door.

I know who it is with absolute certainty, but I look through the peephole anyway. What the hell do they want? Any relaxation from my shower is instantly undone.

Rage flaring back to life, I fling open the door. “Isn’t it enough that you’ve inserted yourself into my workplace in the most spectacular way? Now you’re showing up at my home?”

Lennox and Lincoln have the decency to look apologetic. The most I can say for Barrett and Bronson is that they look calm. “Can we come in, Caz?” Bronson makes an attempt to sound tender.

I come extremely close to slamming the door in their faces, but it’s the look in Lennox’s eyes that stops me. He always was the sweetheart, the most caring brother. The older twins’ first instinct in any situation was to be the protectors. Lincoln’s goal was to solve problems, and Lennox always aimed to soothe me.

Knowing I’ll regret it, but feeling some bizarre sense of obligation, I step back and let them inside. How do they even know where I live? Maybe Rachel told them. Then I remember that my address would be in Rusty’s files, which now belong to them.

I may have let them in, but I’m not playing hostess. I’m not offering them a drink, and I’m not inviting them to sit, not that there are many options for that in my small studio apartment. Let them stand and feel awkward while they’re here.

“What do you want?” I ask the four of them.

“We’re worried about you, Caz,” Lincoln says.

I’m not even going to respond to that. Nothing I’m saying is getting through to them.

“You seem like you’ve changed,” Lennox says.

“Yes, well, people tend to do that over a decade’s time.”

“We’re sorry we hurt you. We did what we had to do, and we thought it was for the best,” Lennox says.