The Broken Sister Part 11

"I don't know. I mean, we get along well enough." He hadn't ever been grilled by a girl's parent. If he'd met parents most liked him, especially in the last few years, when his success showed through his vehicle and clothing.

"How'd you meet?"

"She was my waitress." True enough. He almost felt the need to proclaim he hadn't slept with her. He didn't expect the grilling by her father-figure.

"You..." Donny started to say, but then Kylie and Tracy came through the front door towards them. Smiling. Kylie walked with her arm around her mom's waist. Donny immediately smiled and his entire intimidating act dissolved. Tristan blinked. Had he imagined the whole thing? No. He hadn't imagined that.

Donny put his hand out as if to friendly handshake. "Have fun. Be careful." Tristan got the implied "with her" and Donny didn't really care how Tristan fared.

They got in the truck and pulled away. "I hope you don't mind the truck. I think Donny's right."

"No. It's fine." His tone was absentminded as his thoughts drifted.

Snow. They finally hit it once they'd gone about thirty-five minutes from the main road up back roads on the mountains. It was soon covering the road and they hit an area where the tire tracks petered out.

"Here?" she said, her eyes eager with antic.i.p.ation. He parked and watched as she pulled her snow pants on and reapplied her parka. She stopped as she reached for the door handle. "Aren't you going to put yours on?"

He had snow gear. It was used for snow skiing, not frolicking like a child in the snow. With a sigh he started pulling it all on as she jumped out.

But by the time he'd put his stuff on she was out of sight. He followed her footsteps through the six inches of powdery new snow. He found her down a hill that went down towards a wide, shuffling, and swift creek. It was glossed over in thick shelves of ice on both sides. Snow glittered like diamonds shavings were strewn all along it. It was blinding as the sun shone off the water, ice, and snow in eye-searing reflections. The sky was bright blue and sharp against all the pristine white of trees outlined in crusty snow. And in middle of it was Kylie down on a long thick flat shelf of ice. She was poking her way along, tapping before she stepped to make sure she didn't fall through. He watched her. Almost confused. He felt compelled somehow to pull his phone out and take some pictures of her. She just looked so happy. Carefree. She was literally frolicking like a kid in the snow and trying to ice skate, without the benefit of clear ice or ice skates, but laughing as she slipped and fell hard to her b.u.t.t.

Her snow outfit was all black with a bright purple hat pulled low over her head. Nothing about her was snow-bunny hot. There was her in too big of pants and coat because she was so skinny it all hung on her as all her clothes did. As she liked.

And still he clicked her picture, unbeknownst to her. She was just such an anomaly he couldn't figure out. She spotted him and waved him down. He finally half slipped, half walked, half slid on his a.s.s towards her. The ice, snot-like in its slipperiness, made Tristan step carefully towards where she frolicked.

"Isn't it glorious?"

It was. Truly. He paused and raised his head up and his gaze up higher. How often did he do that? Look around? Notice nature? It was a stunning day. Blinding, really, in color and vibrancy. He closed his eyes as the piercing cold air stung his face, and yet the sun's warmth could be felt on his skin. Odd contrasts. It was somehow invigorating. Kind of like the girl he was with. He mentally shied from the thought.

He marveled until a hard pack of snow smacked his cheek and eye and went up his nose. Startled, he pushed the snow off him and turned towards her. She was already backing up while she giggled and laughed and then full-on turned and tried to run. But her sliding steps had her in a cartoonish slow run. He started after her, much more coordinated and on surer feet.

He got close enough to launch himself at her and tackle her, turning so he took the brunt of their fall to the ground as they ploughed into a s...o...b..nk of powdery snow. It shook down all around them. She struggled, laughing and gasping as he finally rolled her under his weight.

All the layers kept them separated but she was laughing so hard he could easily take a fistful of the white powder and stuff it in her face, into her mouth and down the top of her coat where it gapped around her chin. She ate the snow, almost choking on it when she sucked it in from laughing so hard in gasping breaths and screams.

"Not smart, Kylie McKinley. Not smart at all. You get that I'm way bigger than you," he finally taunted.

She squealed, "Oh my G.o.d! It's so cold," as the snow hit her chest under her coat. He grinned wider.

"So smart. I got you! No matter what you do to me from here, I got you first!" She was still laughing. Her cheeks were pink with cold. Her nose was wet and dripping snot from the cold and all her laughing. She merely took her glove and wiped at it. There wasn't one pretentious thing about her. She was real. Out there.

It all made her laugh harder. He sat back enough to let her finally catch her breath. She laughed for a full five minutes, squealing about the cold. He studied her and then her laughter started to still and she seemed to realize he was watching her. Her eyes fluttered open and focused on him. Her face was still red and splotchy from the cold and tears from laughing. He leaned down and his lips found hers. He kissed her with just his lips, easy and soft until he lifted his lips barely just off hers. She blinked repeatedly.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because I couldn't think of anything else I'd rather do."

Her cheeks were already pink from the cold but his comment drew out more color.

"Why'd you attack me?" he challenged.

"You were grouchy. Thought maybe you'd relax."

"I was grouchy?" His head snapped back in surprise. Grouchy? Had he ever been called grouchy? He imagined Morgan calling him grouchy and the image made him smile. It was what a mother called her tired, spoiled, annoying kid who needed a nap. It wasn't something he was called.

She nodded, her eyes losing their mirth. Her mouth twisted. "Yes. Meeting my family... it was too soon, huh?"

"You think they made me grouchy?"

"Yes."

He shook his head, on top of her still, but he could hardly feel her through all the poufy layers. "Am I still?"

"Grouchy? I don't know. But at least you smiled."

He stared down at her. His mouth wasn't smiling now. "I find it particularly easy to smile with you."

Her eyes grew wide and then dimmed.

He sighed. Yes, grouchy was kind of the word to describe his earlier mood. He hadn't wanted to look forward to seeing her today. He didn't want to like her parents, or respect how her mom was so careful with her. Or why his heart felt heavy with tenderness understanding why her mom was so careful with her. There was something about Kylie that begged him to be kind to her. A softness that totally didn't match with how she dressed or how she enjoyed the boys of college, but that same fragility seemed to evoke a protectiveness in him he didn't understand.

Yesterday he'd noticed a homeless woman who was sleeping on the corner of the parking lot and he wondered if Kylie would really just go up to her and start talking to her as if she was someone she'd met in an elevator or grocery store. But easier still, he could picture the kindness coming from her to do so. He'd, of course, done neither. He'd merely slammed his car door and headed into the office building, leaving the woman shivering cold outside with her grocery cart and cardboard box. But it was something new that he noticed her. Maybe, given time and enough of Kylie's influence, he'd do something more productive than notice her.

He lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers. He sighed deeply and whispered, his lips cold against her skin right by her ear, "It's all too soon. Don't you feel that?"

"Yes." Her voice was almost a conspiratorial whisper back. Her eyes widened an infinitesimal amount and she just barely smiled as she added, "That's why I keep waiting for you not to contact me again."

He didn't answer. She was perceptive. More than she first let on. He leaned forward and his lips touched her as his tongue gently slid into her mouth. Her body shifted, letting him fall more comfortably against her. He closed his eyes as her warm, wet mouth surrounded his and everything fizzled from his brain like snow melting on a hot plate.

"I don't think that's going to happen," he said after they finally stopped kissing.

She shrugged as something, doubt or uncertainty, flashed in her eyes. "We should go sled. There's a great hill right over there."

He rolled off her and laid there in the soft snow for a long moment as she jumped up, snow falling off her. He stared up at the blue sky. Cold air filled his brain, dousing the fire of desire, and worse, the interest he had in the girl he was playing in the snow with.

True to her word, they sledded. For hours. It was fun. Up and down the hill they went. Together, apart. On their stomachs. On their knees. On their b.u.t.ts. Spinning backwards and forwards. Trying to hit the jump he made. Trying to outdo each other.

When they got cold she suggested they leave and stop for hot chocolate at the first cafe they came to in a small, remote town at the base of the mountains. And there he sat, drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream with the girl he was supposed to be ruining. When they leaned towards each other, intimately talking, sipping the chocolatey fragrant drinks, he had a weird thought flash through him of what an amazing day it had been. Fun. Greatly fun. It just didn't make sense who it was with.

They ended up back at her parents' house. After unloading the sleds and throwing their snow gear in his car he followed her back into the family's house.

"Ally!" Kylie exclaimed when a tall, auburn-haired girl stood up from the couch when they barged through the front door. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Heard there was someone to meet," Ally said with a smile towards him as the sisters embraced. Kylie had thrown her arms around her and then stepped back and to the side. "Tristan, this is my sister, Ally."

He stepped forward, surprised when she put her hand out to meet him. Not all college students did that. She had a firm grasp and met his gaze head-on, squarely. She straightened her shoulders back and flashed him a guarded smile. "Tristan." Her tone was prim, formal, and he swore that one word was some kind of command towards him.

They were strikingly different and he didn't even really know either of them. Ally was the center of the room, her confidence wafting off her. She was extraordinarily beautiful with strong features, dark brown eyes, and thick mahogany-colored hair that undulated around her shoulders and down her back.

Kylie was a waif next to her. Slight, delicate, skinny, all described her. Her hair was tucked back in her severe ponytail but the snow hat had messed it up and stray strands stuck up off her scalp in static electricity.

It was the stray strands that stuck straight up as she smiled with joy at her sister's presence that had his heart twisting around weirdly. There was something about her carelessness about her appearance that made everything she did that much sweeter.

She was right. Ally was the complete opposite of Kylie. Anyone seeing them would a.s.sume he was there with Ally. They had the same preppy, neat appearance. They were both confident in their carriage and demeanor.

But it was Kylie who his eyes stayed glued on. It was Kylie he watched as she smiled and tried to cover up her unease by crossing her arms over her stomach while she looked down, listening as Ally asked him rote questions that he answered without listening. Something b.u.mped near his heart as he watched Kylie. There was some trait of vulnerability around her that made him want to step forward, grab her in his arms, and hold her close to his chest. It was a protective urge he'd never once experienced with any kind of woman before. Why her? He didn't really know. There was something unsure, insecure, and weak about her. There was this urge to tell her that contrary to what she thought, she was far more interesting, intriguing, and mysterious than her rather ordinary, good-girl perfect sister.

Yet he felt strong feelings for her. She wasn't the strong, confident and therefore what society would deem an attractive kind of girl. She was unsure and seemed to give in to behavior that made her fit in. She seemed to not flourish in school or anywhere but her art. She was insecure and obviously looked to Ally as the ideal of perfection she should be. And an ideal he should want. He totally got and agreed with that.

The thing was there was something about her. A kindness he witnessed lurking just beneath the surface of all her behavior. A vulnerability that covered a heartbreaking need to be accepted and loved. Yet, even when she had it-Tristan was sure she had from her mom and sister-she didn't seem to see it or totally believe in it. She seemed angry with herself for not accepting the family she obviously loved as enough. She thought she wasn't enough. It came through in every way she presented herself and her sister and even her mom. She was convinced she would hurt or shame them with every single thing about her, with her looks, her work ethic, her hobbies, her att.i.tude, her behavior, even her s.e.x life. All of it was to be hidden and ashamed of. She didn't even grieve "right" when the dad died, it sounded like.

But the weak girl who looked like a wind would push her over tromped around at night at her college, in her neighborhood and in all of downtown Marsdale and didn't even get why anyone worried about it as she helped segments of the population that most others either disdained or were afraid of. She was the most decent to those who needed it the most and who other people were usually the worst behaved towards. She was morally superior to him in her ability to not judge others and to accept them exactly as they were and not use it as a basis to decide who was worthy of help.

She was, in a word, a total juxtaposition of confidence and insecurity.

He sat down to their table, a six-seat oak table. The dinner was meatloaf, a green salad and potatoes in some kind of cheese sauce. It was unpretentious. It was, he suspected, what most average family dinners were like. His own family was ridiculous with their airs and formal dinners. There was not much occasion for family dinners, thank G.o.d. His family didn't much hang out together other than for business. He had impeccable manners, of course, from years spent under his grandfather's demanding tutelage. He pa.s.sed the food around, ate neatly, never spilled, and handled the questions that were thrown at him with smiles and ease. Even Ally. She was pretty h.e.l.l-bent on grilling him. He almost asked her if she'd like to see his stock portfolio.

She was going to be a pain in the a.s.s and annoying, he realized. She might be what derailed this entire thing. No doubt one quick investigation into him and she'd figure out he wasn't who he said. Then it would be done. Over.

The realization made him glance sharply at Kylie as she sat beside him, mostly quiet, and pushing her food about the plate. Tracy noticed. Her mouth kept puckering up but she remained quiet on the matter. He felt compelled to reach out and touch Kylie's knee with a quick, soft squeeze. She peeked up at him without turning her head, obviously startled by the discreet touch. She smiled softly, blushed and glanced down to grapple for her water gla.s.s and drink.

They stayed for another hour. It was a pleasant evening, Tristan admitted, even if he was predisposed to hate it. He didn't really like families. Nothing about family ever called him to willingly hang out with them. But maybe if his mother was as kind and interested as Tracy was towards her daughters, maybe he'd get the urge to interact with family. Donny still was pretty quiet towards him. He didn't seem to have much to say.

There was an odd moment when someone named "Micah" was mentioned and the entire table seemed to fall deathly silent. He had glanced at Kylie but her face was downturned and she was staring hard at her plate, her hands falling into her lap below the tablecloth where she was kneading them back and forth together. He wondered who Micah was.

They left together, Donny sending him glares of warning. Tristan almost put his hands up to proclaim he hadn't done anything more than kiss Kylie. But he just shook the hand put towards him and finally escaped the normal happy family he just didn't expect from the girl he was coming after.

In the car, he gripped the steering wheel tight in his hands. His knuckles turned white. No way was she just some girl who made false accusations. He knew that. No matter what, Kylie wasn't evil or vicious. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes as she sat quietly in his pa.s.senger seat, her head turned towards the pa.s.sing scenery. The shadows played peek-a-boo with the circles the streetlights cast. It moved in a motif of shadows over her profile.

And he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, and stranger still, it bothered him that he didn't know. He wanted to know what she thought of today, of them, of him with her parents and sister. What the h.e.l.l? He wanted their approval? The urge left him squirming in his seat and focusing harder on the road before him. Absurd. He was planning to hurt this girl, why the h.e.l.l would he care what she thought or felt or about her family?

Still, he reached over and set his hand on her shoulder, squeezing, before he withdrew it to drive. "Anything on your mind?"

She glanced at him a smile just barely touching her lips. "You're very good with introductions."

He smiled as he kept his gaze forward. "Have to be. Requirement of being my parents' son, and now my job. The work I do requires me to do a lot of salesmanship. You know, image and small talk and all that bulls.h.i.t."

"I'm not good at any of that. Too shy. Even Ally liked you. She's hard to please, but mostly because you showed up with me, that automatically makes her predisposed to think you're some smarmy loser who's out to use me or get me hooked on drugs or case the joint to rob it."

He shook his head. "That description of what she expects out of you is all kinds of f.u.c.ked up. I don't know where to start. First, what is it you think she thought of me?"

"She said you seemed, and I quote, 'Pretty together and not a total a.s.shole.'"

"Well, glad I come across that well. And your parents?"

"I'm sure they were secretly wanting to do cartwheels because you didn't seem like you had track marks up and down your arms."

"Your tastes are really that bad?"

"More like that indiscriminate." She dropped her face down. Something fluttered in his chest when he glanced over, catching a glimpse of her profile. There was something about her that seemed to make her grow more and more beautiful in this haunting, fragile, breakable way. A way that motivated him to want to un-break her and see her smile. "But they don't really know that. Only Ally knows that. I never brought anyone home. I'm not sure what they think, but I've worked really hard to make sure they don't think the truth."

He let her statement fall in his car with silence. Then he said, his tone neutral, "The truth being you're a s.l.u.t?"

"The truth being that's what they'd think. They would think I'm dirty and gross-"

"I don't think that." He interrupted her, his tone soft, at odds with the impa.s.sioned tone of hers. Her conviction. Her truth. She was dirty and gross and a s.l.u.t. How much did that play into who she was? What she did with herself? How many of her problems stemmed from that? And what led her down that belief in the first place? The family he just met was not what he had pictured. They seemed loving, warm, and real. Maybe it was an act, but Tristan didn't think so. He usually got a gut-level feeling on people. Like he had on Kylie right off... And now her d.a.m.n family.

"You're in the minority," she answered finally, her voice almost a whisper. Breathless. Her jaw locked.

"I don't have to be."

"I know I should have stopped how I act... actually, how I am, a long time ago. I can't describe it really."

"Try to. How are you like?"

She licked her lips as she glanced at him, her eyebrows drawn in puzzlement. "I'm the girl who had s.e.x indiscriminately."

"So did I. In college. I totally did that."

"Every weekend?" Her tone gathered strength.

"d.a.m.n near."

"Well then, we would have hooked up somewhere on some dirty bed or floor and I wouldn't remember much of it. I'd stumble home after, clean up, and get up to do it all over again." Her tone was gathering steam as she spoke.

"Yup, me too, Kylie," he shot back immediately.

She cut him with a glare. "I was raised by a nice family to be a good person. Get good grades. Try my hardest. I was loved and cared for. Yet, I just wasn't happy. In high school I was just sad so much. And shy. So socially awkward. Still am."

"You were not socially awkward when I met you at The Acorn. You served me with complete competence, politeness, and skill. Being quiet doesn't make you socially awkward. Maybe it just makes you not annoying."

"I'm comfortable there. I know my job. My roll. My place and how to function. Left in a group with peers my own age? I'm hopeless. I often tagged along with my sister. So popular, pretty, perky, and-"

"Perfect," he supplied. "Yes, I've gathered she's the ideal you've pitted yourself against. Measured up against and always found coming up short... but let me ask you this; did anyone else make the comparison? Because I didn't get from your mother that she wanted you to be Ally."

"No, she doesn't. I do. You're missing the point. My mom deserves for me to be like her. To just be... better than I am."

"Okay, I disagree. But continue. You are socially awkward and lacking in every way Ally is not. So in high school what did this propel you to do?"

She shot him an annoyed frown. He could see her agitation growing as he summarized what she was saying. "I drank when we were out with friends."

"So, not that uncommon. Doesn't make you the devil."

She made a face at him. "Can I finish?"

He liked her bristling. He liked the strength her tone gained each time she got angry at him. He mock-waved at her as if to compel her to speak. "So, I discovered that when buzzed I got more talkative. I found it easier to talk around the girls and flirt with boys. I became less socially malnourished."

"Wow, epically strange, Kylie... Drinking made you feel braver, looser, and freer, which increased your confidence. It is liquid courage for a reason."