Lock You Down (Rivers Brothers 2)

So there was no connection there that would be a reason to stalk the man.

But she clearly had a reason.

One that meant a fuckuva lot to her.

So much so that she wouldn't let it go even when she was found out.

That kind of comment was personal.

And what was more personal than family?

No, Reagan never personally had experience with Michael, but her sister did.

Whatever happened, it couldn't have been good.

No, it had to be bad enough that it brought out the stalker in her.

I just didn't know the exact details.

But one look at her face said she was one invitation away from giving them to me.

"I think it's time you tell someone about it, don't you?"TENReagan - 2 years agoI was distracted that day.

That was what my memory reminded me, shooting images of me rushing around my apartment, texting without looking, trying to find a file I had somehow managed to misplace from just the night before.

Work was crazy.

I was being pestered about three events over the same weekend.

My parents were waiting for an answer from me about my thoughts on buying one of the houses they owned and were unloading, wanting to scale down. And by "scale down" they just meant in the state of California. They were going to buy a villa in Tuscany the next spring.

But I had a million and a half things on my mind that day.

I would never forgive myself for that, for being caught up in my own world, for not stopping, taking a deep breath, really taking in every minute detail.

Maybe things would be different.

Maybe my world wouldn't have fallen apart.

But no wishful thinking could change the cold, hard truth.

When my sister showed up at my door, I was more worried about my date to get my hair colored than why she had shown up randomly.

Of course, as many therapists would tell me in the months following, I wasn't to blame. There was no reason to be suspicious. My siblings dropped over at my place all the time.

We had always been like that. We didn't call or text. We didn't knock or ring the bell. We used our key and let ourselves in because we knew we would always be welcome.

And she was.

Sammy.

She was always welcome.

I was happy to see her even as I overturned couch cushions looking for my missing file. I absentmindedly decided we would order in Chinese, would spend the night binging Gossip Girl on Netflix like we were in high school all over again.

"Everything alright?" I asked, finally finding my file, sitting down on the chair across from her, taking my first deep breath of the day.

"It's been a rough week," she admitted, reaching up to glide her hand over her smooth hair. I always thought it was prettier when she didn't get it straightened, but she liked the shine it got when it was ironed.

There were a lot of things to admire about Sammy. She'd always been the prettier girl--because, let's face it, Luis was the prettiest of us all. She had flawless skin even through the teen years that had me at a new dermatologist every month to try to get my skin sorted out. Her high cheekbones and gently pointed chin gave her an almost doll-like appearance. She was tall like me, but a little curvier than I turned out. She was also the softer, sweeter sister, all patience and love, easily likable. And everyone did. Like her. Immediately.

And yet, somehow, I had never felt any animosity toward her for being so pretty, so sweet, so agreeable.

Parents didn't have favorites, but Luis and I were sure they appreciated Sammy's nurturing side more than his vanity and my tendency toward being overly opinionated.

The last to be adopted and requiring months and months of nearly round-the-clock care for various niggling ailments she came into our family with, due to malnourishment at an under-funded orphanage, she was the baby of the family, the one who always needed our parents just a little bit more than we did. And they, getting older, knowing she would be their last, had fawned over her.

Which had turned her into the picture-perfect woman she turned out to be. No vanity like Luis. No bull-headedness like me.

We all loved her more than we loved ourselves at times.

"I know, right? Is Mercury in retrograde or something? Why is this an 'everything that can go wrong, will' week?"

I didn't notice it in the moment, but when I searched back through my memory later, I saw it. The glassy look to her eyes, the way she avoided eye-contact.

"I want it to be over."

"Me too. You know what, I was going to say we should order in and watch trashy TV. But maybe we deserve better than that. I have to go into work for a meeting. But then we should get dressed, and go somewhere fancy. Just you and me. Have a few drinks to celebrate this week being over. What do you think?"