The Sister’s Secrets: Reen. Katlyn Duncan
she looks horrible.’
‘Nice,’ Rose said, rolling her eyes. ‘She can hear you, even if she’s asleep.’
‘What do you want me to say, Rose?’ Reen lowered her voice. ‘You didn’t preface this properly.’
‘I told you she wasn’t doing well. Did you need a photograph? If you asked questions or visited more often—’
‘Don’t do this,’ Reen said, pushing away from the bed. It jostled under her touch. She froze, staring at her mother. But the woman on the bed didn’t move a muscle. ‘Don’t guilt me about not visiting. Just because she’s like this, it doesn’t forgive everything.’
‘Doesn’t it?’ Rose said. ‘She tried to contact you. She wanted to apologize. You made that difficult for all of us. By the time you reached out, it was too late. She wasn’t herself anymore.’
Reen drew in heavy breaths through her nose. The room tilted slightly, and the scents of the ocean and cleaning products filled her head, making her dizzy. ‘I can’t do this.’ She fled the room, barely hearing her sister’s voice calling for her.
Rose caught up with Reen before she reached her car. Reen recalled memories of Rose charging from base to base during the softball games Mom and Dad dragged Reen to as a child. Her sister was still as quick.
‘I know it’s hard. It’s not easy for me either,’ Rose said, barely out of breath.
She hated that she allowed Rose to continue the conversation she didn’t want to have.
‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ Reen said, rubbing her temples. Searing pain radiated from her head. She wasn’t sure if it was the scent of the seawater or the inevitability of a fight with Rose. She regretted coming back.
‘I don’t want you to leave,’ Rose said, grabbing her keys from her bag. She fumbled with the ring, plucking one out of the bunch. ‘Here. Take my apartment for the night.’
Reen gritted her teeth. ‘I was going to stay in one of the inns.’
‘You don’t have to. I’ll stay with Shane tonight,’ Rose said. ‘You’ll have my place to yourself. I don’t want you to pay for a hotel. You can stay as long as you want.’
‘I have to go,’ Reen said, even though she didn’t. The longer she stayed, the more her memories surfaced, and the familiar pull of her home became stronger. Those tendrils wrapped around her limbs and started to not-so-gently pull her back.
Rose sighed and shook her head. ‘Dinner still stands for tonight. But no pressure. Let me know if you change your mind.’
She wouldn’t.
‘I know it’s a lot to handle,’ Rose said.
Reen wanted to get Rose off her back, so she took the key from her sister. ‘What’s the address?’
Rose told her.
‘I’ll leave the key in the mailbox or something. I’ll let you know.’
Rose nodded. ‘It was good to see you.’ She reached out a hand as if she were going to touch her but thought better of it.
‘You too,’ Reen said. Her throat was thick. She got into her rental car and tossed Rose’s apartment key into the cup holder. She pulled out of the spot, toward the exit. Checking her rearview mirror, she spotted Rose going back inside The Cottage. To do what? Stare at Mom?
Reen shook her head as a chill rolled down her spine. Rose was a glutton for punishment.
The clock read after five-thirty. She needed a place to hide. Like hell was she going back to Rose’s apartment until she had to. Being in The Burrow at all was a reminder of her past. She’d delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
Ever since Reen had turned legal age, in all the places she went to, she always checked out the bar scene. When people lost their inhibitions, even just a little bit, she got to the meat of a town. Reen could find out more in one night in a bar than from any tour guide. Unless a tour guide frequented a local bar, then she’d hit gold.
She wasn’t looking for information, but a place to hide. Somewhere she knew Rose wouldn’t find her. There weren’t a lot of places to get a beer in The Burrow. Both The Siren restaurant and Burrow’s Brews offered what the legal-aged townies needed. But Reen wasn’t going anywhere near The Siren. Even though she’d left town, she hadn’t been immune to the draw of social media. She’d checked into the guy she’d left in her wake several times during her absence.
Brody Moore’s family owned The Siren. From what Rose told her, Brody’s older sister, Missy, owned it now while Brody still worked there. She wasn’t about to run into her high school boyfriend on the first day she arrived in town.
Brody had been on Reen’s mind a lot since Rose called her. He was a townie through and through, and she had a feeling she’d run into him eventually. She hadn’t looked deep enough into his profiles to see if he was married or had any kids, but from the rotating pictures of him and other girls on his Instagram, she had a feeling he was still testing the waters of dating.
Her only other choice for drinks was Burrow’s Brews. She knew the location but had never stepped inside before. From what she knew, it was a dingy place for the sleazeballs in town. Tucked into a row of houses, no tourist would know about it unless they crashed into one of the drunks stumbling out of the building in the wee hours of the morning.
At least that was what Dad had always said. Maybe he was trying to keep his girls from checking the place out. For most of her youth, Reen had only had eyes for Brody, so she’d always ended up at the family-friendly Siren instead, where he had worked busing tables.
Reen parked further down the street. As she reached the sidewalk, she tucked her hair around her ears, glancing around. This part of town didn’t get much foot traffic other than those who lived in the houses and apartments surrounding the bar. She knew, with her shorter hair, some might not recognize her right away, but it was only a matter of time before someone spotted her. Then, the town rumor mill would begin, and she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere unnoticed.
The wooden sign above the door creaked as she approached. It was as if someone was either welcoming or warning her. She pushed through the door. A blast of warm air burst at her from inside. On one end of the room, wooden barstools were lined up along the counter. The four men clumped at the end of the bar stared at the television tucked in the corner above the rows of liquor. One of them noticed her and then the rest followed. Three of them were overweight, sitting close together, with one thinner one squished in between. The one closest to her moved his mop of hair from his face and narrowed his eyes several times before turning back to his drink.
Two appeared to be in their forties. Reen recognized them but couldn’t put a name to their faces. She’d spent so much time stuffing this place into the depths of her memory she’d forgotten a lot of the smaller details. At least that was a shining light of positivity.
The soccer game on the television blasted, filling the room as if someone expected this place to get busier soon. She glanced at the rest of the room, with tables and chairs scattered around the space as if the last people to leave had done so in a hurry. A crooked dart board was pegged to the back wall.
‘Over here,’ the guy sitting on the end said, patting the stool next to him.
‘I like this one,’ she said, taking an empty chair on the opposite side. His friend laughed and punched him in the arm.
Reen allowed her hair to fall across her face, blocking out the men. She eyed the small bowl of pretzels and nuts and wondered how long it had been there. The men returned to their game, yet she sensed they weren’t going to leave her alone forever.
She glared at the counter, careful not to make eye contact with the guys. Where was the bartender?