So Wright (The Wrights 1)

“There’s nothing lingering, Gypsy. You and Dylan made your priorities very clear. Whatever ties we had died with Mom.” She dropped her arms, suddenly intensely aware of the pain swirling inside her. Pain Miranda had shoved into dark closets and locked with dead bolts a long damn time ago. “I’ve got to get to a job.”

Miranda turned toward her trailer.

“Miranda.” On the top step, Gypsy grabbed her hand. Miranda pulled back, hard, and turned on her sister.

She didn’t want Gypsy’s touch. Didn’t want her sister’s guilt or regret or even affection. The only thing she wanted from Gypsy or Dylan was distance.

“Stop.” Miranda was clear and determined. “Just because you’ve decided you want to reconnect doesn’t mean I do. You made your priorities crystal clear four years ago. And I’ve made my peace with your decision. But I won’t pretend I approve of or agree with your choices. You and Dylan burned the bridge between us. Go back to wherever you came from, Gypsy.”

Miranda opened her trailer door and shut it hard behind her. Then she held the door handle, afraid Gypsy would try to follow her in.

Miranda’s gaze focused on her hand, holding the door closed, and contradictions stirred in her head.

Gypsy had been the baby Miranda had loved with everything she had. The innocent little girl Miranda had showered with bedtime stories and regaled with praise over even the slightest accomplishment. The bubbly kid she’d tried to hold on to with every ounce of strength, but who she’d ultimately lost to her mother’s addictions.

Now Miranda was physically holding a barrier between herself and the woman Gypsy had become. A woman concerned with her own desires, her own needs. A woman who’d failed Miranda when she’d needed her most.

Tears spilled over her lashes before she even knew they’d gathered. The slide of warmth down her cheeks cracked her heart open. But Miranda held on to the door as if the apocalypse waited on the other side, because she could only take that kind of heartbreak once in a lifetime.

“Miranda,” Gypsy called through the door. “Can’t you just talk to me? Things… Things aren’t good for me right now. I’m in a bad place. I could really use a friend.”

It was all about her. Miranda willed herself to hold her ground even while she felt herself sliding down a muddy slope.

“I just…” Gypsy continued. “I just need a place to stay for a little while. I’ll pay rent. I’ll clean and cook and do chores.”

“Pffft,” Miranda sputtered. “Right.”

“I’m not ten anymore, Miranda.”

Her heart hitched, and she squeezed her eyes closed. She couldn’t deal with this right now. She needed to get away from Gypsy so she could ground herself. So she could think. So she could figure out how to handle this curveball.

But, for better or worse, Gypsy and Dylan were her family. Her only family. She’d given them both everything she’d had, heart and soul, when they’d been kids. Watched out for them, cared for them, guided them when their mother had been incapable. Having them both taken away by their fathers at four and six years old had torn Miranda apart. Watching them grow up with all the benefits those fathers had brought to their lives both pleased Miranda and seeded an unwanted and futile resentment.

This was all too complicated to resolve in the moment.

“Please, Miranda.” Gypsy’s voice softened with a pleading tone Miranda had never been able to resist. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know life hasn’t been fair to you. But I love you, and I really need a big sister right now.”

Miranda rolled her eyes and shook her head. Then she wiped her tears with a muttered “I’m a fucking glutton” before opening her trailer door.

7

My Darkest Days blasted through Miranda’s earbuds, and the spark of her torch on metal glowed green through her welding visor.

It’s just your typical, hardcore, casual sex

We’re single but we’re lovers, crazy for each other

Just your typical, hardcore, casual sex

We’re wild under the covers, crazy for each other

Miranda’s mind played back the feel of Jack kissing a trail along the inside of her thigh, his hand slipping between her legs, his fingers plunging deep inside just before he covered her with his mouth. The arch of her back, her own cry as she splintered.

Her hand shook, and the weld skewed right.

“Shit.” She released

the handle, and the flame went out. Sitting back on her heels, she lifted her face shield, dragged out her earbuds, and glared at the mistake. That’s what she got for pushing Gypsy from her mind by thinking about Jack.