The Imperfections

She’s quiet for a moment, probably gathering her thoughts. After a long pause, she sighs and turns in the bed so she’s facing me. “Bri did,” she says softly. “She was worried about me.”

Laughing a little, I shake my head. “That’s fucking rich, isn’t it?”

Alyssa flushes a little, but soldiers on. “Our relationship is just—she doesn’t get it. Since we had to lie to her about how we met, it seems to her like I’m in the dark. She thinks I don’t know what you’re capable of, and she was afraid of me finding out after I’d already married you when it would be too late.”

“That’s none of her goddamn business,” I tell Alyssa, reaching over to grab my phone off the nightstand.

Quickly moving over and grabbing my hands to stop me, Alyssa implores, “Please don’t be mad at her. She wasn’t trying to hurt you. I think in the long run she just wanted to make sure you weren’t investing in someone who couldn’t love you back, but you’re not. It doesn’t change anything for me. I do know who you are, and I did know what I was signing up for, but Bri doesn’t know that, Brant.”

“What did she say happened?” I demand coldly, remembering all too well the blinders my sister wore back then.

Now Alyssa stumbles, trying to edit her thoughts as I drag them out of her. “I—She—” Alyssa stops and grabs her head, afraid to say the wrong thing. “It doesn’t even matter,” she finally says, meeting my gaze. “I don’t care.”

“I do,” I state, not looking away. “Tell me what she said.”

It takes her a couple minutes, hemming and hawing and trying to come up with an answer. I wait, knowing she’ll eventually tell the truth. If she tries lying first, I’ll be able to tell, and we’re not ending this conversation until I know what my sister told her.

Finally, she gives me a summary of Bri’s version of events: me being overly suspicious and hard on everyone, poor Nicole and Brandon getting swept up in it. Every single thing about the way my sister sees that night pisses me off.

All three of us chose to hurt someone, but somehow I’m the only bad guy when she tells the story.

Alyssa’s paying careful attention to me, gauging my anger as she speaks. By the time she finishes, she’s practically in my lap, trying to soothe the storm inside me.

“It doesn’t matter,” she tells me again, looking up at me pleadingly.

“She told you about Brandon, too,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“Yeah, I was surprised she told me that, too,” Alyssa admits reluctantly. “Once she started talking it just seemed to pour out of her.”

That explains why she was upset when I came into the kitchen. We eventually swept all that shit under the rug in order to get on with our lives, but she never did forgive me for killing that asshole.

Even though she’s intent on keeping me calm, since my tone is even enough, Alyssa allows her curiosity to get the better of her. “I take it he was the second person you mentioned? You only said the first death was an accident.”

I nod my head, watching her face. “Yeah. The second one wasn’t.”

I don’t know why, but she’s right—the admission that I killed someone in cold blood doesn’t seem to change the way she looks at me.

Maybe it’s because I already told her what would happen to any man she dared cheat on me with, and she believed me.

“That doesn’t seem to shock you,” I remark, curious to see what she’ll say.

Alyssa shrugs, like we’re talking about something far less intense. “Not really. It surprised me to hear it was someone you were friends with, but I already knew you killed someone.”

“Well, he cheated on my sister and fucked my girlfriend behind my back, so… turned out he wasn’t much of a friend.”

With unwavering loyalty, she nods her head and runs her hand across my chest. “I wasn’t voicing disapproval, just saying. That must’ve been really hard for you. Your whole world shifted beneath your feet, everything you knew and relied upon just… exploded.”

Mild disbelief fills me and I can’t help shaking my head at her. “You’re always on my side, aren’t you?”

Alyssa nods and flattens herself on top of me. I lock one arm around her so she doesn’t fall, but she also anchors herself in place by wrapping an arm around my neck and leaning in to kiss me. “Always.”

“I am one lucky son of a bitch,” I tell her.

Smiling at me, she insists, “I’m the lucky one.”

I cradle her face in my hand, tenderly caressing her soft skin with my calloused thumb. She looks up at me with such love in her eyes, and I don’t know what I did to deserve it.