Like Dragonflies

“No. Ever since I confronted him, he’s barely here and when he is, he’s passed out drunk. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with his shit, but it makes me realize how lonely I am now.”

I shut my eyes against his words, because the last thing I need to picture is my Mars all alone without anyone who understands him.

Without me.

I look over at the painting on my easel and frown at how sad the stars look. “Me too,” I say quietly.

Even though it hurts like hell to work through the wreckage caused by our parents, we’re the only people we can talk to about it. We’re the only ones who understand without judgment.

So we keep talking because it’s all we can do.

Mars

“You’re going to be fine,” I assure her. “It’s not like your mom hasn’t ever dressed you up and paraded you around before. You’ll have your phone. If it gets too boring, text me.”

She huffs and puffs. I can’t help but grin. It’s been three weeks since the bomb was dropped about Sage being my half sister. Two weeks since we started talking again. That first week had been hell. I could barely breathe or function. School and work were not even on the table when I didn’t even know which way was up. I was spiraling so fast.

But then I spoke to her.

She seemed to reach through the phone and grab onto me. She kept me from spinning out into the void forever.

We can’t have what we want, but it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I still don’t have the balls to see her in person. I don’t know that I ever will. For now, texting and phone conversations have to be enough.

“I look like a little girl going to see The Nutcracker. All dressed up for her mommy,” she grumbles.

I laugh. “Show me.” Because I’m a sick fuck who still likes to look at you.

She switches the phone to Facetime and her room bobs in front of me as she makes her way over to her full-length mirror in her closet. When I see her reflection, I can’t help but gape.

“Sage…”

Her cherry-red dress is strapless and shows off the tops of her bouncy breasts, forming to her body until it gets to her hips. From there, it flares out in an obnoxiously over the top but still cute way. She’s wearing a pair of strappy heels that makes her seem so much taller.

“Let me see the back,” I say, my voice gruff.

She turns and my eyes drop to her sculpted calves. “What do you think?”

The camera screen gets flipped to where she’s facing me. Her lips are pouty and red, matching her pretty dress. Normally, she’s makeup free, but tonight her eyes are lined in black and her lashes are long and dark. My fingers twitch to reach through the phone and toy with a strand of her silky raven-colored hair that hangs smooth on either side of her shoulders.

“You’re beautiful,” I choke out.

Her green eyes flare at my words, and she rewards me with a breathtaking smile that makes my heart thunder in my chest. “Thank you.”

“Promise me something,” I murmur. “Enjoy yourself. Talk to other people your age.” I grit my teeth because it pains me to say it, but she needs to hear it. “And if a guy asks you to dance, then you dance, Sage. Understand?”

Her expression sours. “I don’t want to dance with anyone.”

Anyone but me.

The sentiment is mirrored in my own features.

“You have to,” I whisper.

The stubborn girl lifts her chin and lets out a heavy sigh. “We’ll see. I’m bringing my big purse because the second this dumb event is over, I’m changing into my jeans and hoodie.”

I laugh as I try to imagine her mom letting her out of the house with a big purse filled with her regular clothes. “Call me later. I want to hear how it went.”

“I’ll probably not even make it halfway through. I never do. These events are disasters waiting to strike.”

“The pouting is cute, Sage, but it doesn’t get you out of your duties.”

She snorts. “Now you sound like my mother.”

I flip her off and she giggles. All too soon, we’re saying goodbye.

I’m just toweling off from a shower and pulling on my jeans when my phone buzzes. I rush over to it hoping it’s Sage, but it’s Aunt Darcy.

Aunt D: How’s my boy?

Me: Hanging in there.

Aunt D: Good, I was worried. Jimmy told me you’ve been hit or miss with your schedule. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.

I’m far from okay, but what can I do?

Me: I’ll survive.

Aunt D: Life is about more than survival. It’s about living. My sister forgot to do that, but I’ll be damned if I allow her son to do the same.

I let out a heavy sigh and send her some thumbs-up emojis.