Where the Ivy Hides by Kimber S. Dawn Page B

over the last month and the police questioning, the pieces of the puzzle have finally come together for the most part, healing us as a family to a certain extent.
    I like Seattle.
    I like the weather here. It mirrors my mood.
    When I'm not alone, I'm okay. I do well.
    It's at night, in the dark when I'm at my loneliest that the past catches up with me and I don't do well.
    I don't do well at all.
    It's been over a month when I accept the pain Ryker left behind and realize it will not be the kind that fades with time.
    No. These scars are ones that won't heal.
    And these mantras of pain and life become the backdrop of my stint in rehab, this time.
    I'm nervous about going 'home' the day after tomorrow. And to be honest, I'm grateful family session was canceled today. I don't feel much like pretending—not today. I'm digging this pity party I tailored to my mood this rainy morning. It's been going quite well. The sound of the rain pelting the metal awning over the smoke hut is the icing on this pity party's cake.
    It's perfect, I think as the tears pool before slipping over my eyelashes and trailing down my face.
    “It's perfect,” I mutter aloud.
    "Nah...I mean, don't get me wrong, it's nice. But I definitely wouldn't call it perfect, little sis." My brother says behind me.
    I smile.
    I pause.
    I breathe.
    "I'm from Florida, I don't usually get to watch rain roll. It just instantly absorbs as soon as it hits the sand. Get off my ass and out of my pity party, Rome, you weren't invited."
    Still smiling, I turn to face him.
    I see why Delilah was smitten. For a guy, he isn't half bad. For a brother though, he's a pain in the ass. I mean he’s the shit, he’s also just a pain in the ass.
    "I'm always invited to pity parties. Don't you know, sis, all the lady's in this town, I'm the reason it's the season for pity parties." He chuckles as he pulls an unopened pack of Camel menthols from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Smoke break?"
    See, I told you he was the shit.
    "How did you know?" I smile and ask when I gesture at our surroundings.
    He smirks, "I'm just good like that, I guess." He finishes packing the cigarettes before flipping the top open and thumbing a cigarette out a bit. After I pluck the cigarette from the pack, just like the gentleman he is, my brother, Roman has a lighter lit and in front of my cigarette.
    “I know, it's probably confusing for you. What with having a brother this handsome and debonair, then you have to accept the fact that I'm your flesh and blood? It's alright, you'll get used to the swagger, little sis. How ya holding up?"
    "First off, I'm the oldest. So that's big sister to you, and second…ehh, I'm holding up,” I shrug, “I guess." I say, laughing.
    “You guess? Okay, I won’t pry too much. I get it. I’ve been the only child of the two most protective, domineering parents, for twenty-one years, I get it. Pops talk you into completing your rehab stint under his roof or did he offer to cover your living expenses while you’re here?”
    I just blink at my brother through the cigarette smoke hanging in the humidity between us, thinking.
    I lived off Blythe the first fifteen years of my life, then Delilah, and lastly Ryker. I don’t want to live off anyone else ever again.
    But, again, like always, I don’t have a fucking choice, do I?
    After a while of silence and thought, I answer, “Honestly, he hasn’t said and I haven’t even thought about it until just now.” I chuckle and it sounds as fake as it is, “I think I need to find a job. I can paint. And sit pretty, I modeled for Delilah’s folks at their studio.” I pull a drag from my cigarette. “And bikes. I know how to run a bike shop. Know of anything for someone with those random qualifications?”
    Our eyes lock and just like that his next words seal his role in my life. I have a brother, a bad ass brother at that, and he’d forever be a pivotal part of my life.
    “Baby steps, little sis. Fuck Pops. He’s