If he thinks I can do this…
I take a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, forcing myself to turn to Juliet.
She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even blink.
“I know I let you down,” I say, stronger now. “And you have to know, I’m so, so sorry. If I could take it back, I would. I screwed up, and I don’t know how to make it right. But you have to let me try, Jules, you have to.”
I wait for some response, a sign that my words mean anything to her, but Juliet just grips the steering wheel, speeding down the now-familiar streets back towards the beach house as if she can’t drive fast enough.
I swallow back a sob. With every mile that passes without a word, the pain inside me grows, twisting tighter, an agony of my own making, until finally Juliet pulls up at the end of the drive and leaves the engine idling, waiting for me to get out.
“Say something.” I look at her again. “Juliet, please…”
She finally turns to me, anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. “What do you want me to say?” she demands. “You left me, Carina. You left!”
“I know.” I cringe at the truth of it, but Juliet shakes her head.
“No, you don’t,” she says fiercely. “Mom was dead, Dad was drunk, Emerson pushed me away. I had no one! You left me, you went running off on vacation, like nothing was wrong. I had to deal with everything alone.”
Her voice cracks, tears escaping her eyes.
“Jules…” I reach for her, but she shakes me off.
“It’s too late!” she yells, her face twisted with grief. “I spent years waiting for you to want me around, for you to be a sister to me. I kept hoping that one day you’d wake up and like me, love me, even, but you never did. So I stopped waiting.” Juliet wipes furiously at her face. “I stopped caring, a long time ago. You’re too late.”
My heart breaks.
Juliet turns away from me, done with me for good. I claw for the door handle and stumble out of the car, watching as she drives away in a cloud of dust.
I’m too late.
The weight of it hits me, the chances I’ll never get back. All this time I’ve been clinging to the distant hope that somehow, with enough time, she would forgive me. But now I see it was all so naive. There’s no forgiving me for the ways I’ve betrayed her, no mending what I shattered into a thousand broken pieces. Not now, after everything, the years I ignored and dismissed her, taking my sister for granted when all she ever wanted was my love and attention.
It’s over. I can’t take it back. She’ll never forgive me now.
And why should she? You haven’t changed, not really. You’ll never make up for all the ways you let her down.
The voices I’ve kept at bay rear up now, cruel and taunting in my mind. I stumble blindly back towards the house, trying to escape the truth, but the words follow me, dizzying and bleak.
You deserve everything you get. This is your fault, all your fault.
I collapse on the porch, sobbing with an empty ache that consumes me, blotting out the sun. Everything is crumbling apart beneath my feet. I thought I could rebuild my life, that I could do it better this time, but I see now I was wrong. There’s no starting over, no wiping the slate clean. I’m stuck with the sins of my past, and nothing can change that now.
It’s done. My sins won’t be washed away. All I have now is emptiness, the shame and regret pulling me under, so deep in the darkness I could drown.
I’m too late. I’ve lost her forever.
The sobs roll through me, too strong to hold back anymore. I cry, I don’t know how long, until I have nothing left inside me, wrung out and alone. I weep for the chances I’ve squandered, the pain I caused. I weep for the sister who doesn’t want to know me, and the mother I pushed away right to the end. I weep for the promise of a fresh start that I’ve clung to, a life raft that’s been tossed beneath the waves now, leaving me gasping and alone.
What can I do now? Is it even worth trying anymore?
You deserve to suffer.
18
I’m still crumpled on the porch when Garrett finds me, hours later.
“Carina?”
I hear his yell and lift my head. He leaps down from the truck and sprints across the yard, panic written clearly on his face. “Did something happen?” he demands, crouching beside me. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, wordless. God, I must look like a mess. My eyes are puffy and raw from crying, and my head aches with a bitter, dull throb.
“She hates me,” I whisper, defeated. “Juliet, she wouldn’t listen. I’m too late, she says. There’s no going back.” Tears well, hot and fierce in the corners of my eyes.
Garrett reaches to pull me closer, but he pauses, touching my cold skin. “How long have you been out here?” he asks, looking worried. “Come on inside.”
He helps me to my feet and into the house. I go without a sound. I feel numb in his arms, like a rag doll, exhausted from my tears. This morning I was so full of excitement and energy; I felt like my life was finally back on track. Now it’s all been drained away in a single afternoon.
I’ll never make it OK.
Garrett steers me to the couch and tucks a blanket around my shoulders. “I’ll be right back,” he tells me, disappearing into the kitchen.
I stare into the empty hearth and wish I could just close my eyes and make it all go away. I hate that he’s seeing me like this—again. God, he must think I’m such a wreck. Every time I stumble and fall, he’s the one standing behind me, catching me, telling me that everything’s going to be alright.