“Really?” she said.
Surprised by her insecurity, Cheyenne reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “Of course not. We’re sisters, right? We stick together.”
“Yeah, sisters.”
Cheyenne could barely hear her. She leaned closer. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Just don’t scare me like that again, okay? I was so worried.”
Cheyenne gave her a pointed look. “Now you know how I feel when you don’t come home.”
“That’s usual behavior for me. I work nights. I go out often. It’s not usual behavior for you.”
“There’s no excuse for being inconsiderate.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes and stood up to get a drink. “By the way, Joe DeMarco came by last night.”
Cheyenne twisted around to see her. “He did?”
“Yeah.”
“What’d he want?”
“He asked for you.”
“And you told him…”
“That you were probably at Sophia’s.”
Her stomach knotted but she forced herself to swallow what was in her mouth. “What time was that?”
“Almost nine.”
Cheyenne had been at Sophia’s then. Thank God. “Did he say what he wanted?”
Presley returned with a glass of milk. “No, but he seemed disappointed you weren’t here.” She gave Cheyenne a suspicious grin. “You’re not seeing Gail’s brother, are you?”
“No.” Cheyenne shook her head. “Eve’s dating him. We’re just friends.”
She grinned. “Lucky Eve. He’s cute.”
Cheyenne didn’t want to be reminded of that. “He’s a nice guy.”
“He told me to have you call him.”
“I will. How was Mom last night?” Cheyenne held her breath, hoping Presley would take the bait, and felt another wave of relief when she allowed her to change the subject.
“Fine. She woke up for a few minutes and we chatted. But mostly she slept.”
Nothing new there. Cheyenne was about to throw away the paper towel she’d been using so she could take a shower and head over to the B and B when she noticed a shard of glass on the floor. “Did something get broken?”
“Oh!” Presley’s expression turned sheepish. “I was going to tell you about that.”
“What?”
“You know the picture of you, Eve, Gail and some of your other friends in Tahoe? The one you had on the mantel?”
“Yes…”
“I accidentally dropped it. But don’t worry. I’ll get you another frame.”
Cheyenne glanced at the fireplace. Sure enough, her picture was missing. But everything else was there, even some Christmas ornaments that were far more fragile. “What made you pick it up in the first place?”
“I was…dusting. What else?”
Rocking back, Cheyenne blinked at her. “Wow, what got into you?” she said with a laugh.
“I dust. Sometimes.”
“No, you don’t.” She laughed harder. “And you never offer to stay with Mom.”
Presley stared down at her hands, which were busy digging at her cuticles. “I guess I just realized how much you mean to me, and that I haven’t been the kind of help I should’ve been. I want to do more. I want to give you a reason to love me.”
Apparently, Presley was in a much more serious mood than Cheyenne had realized. “Stop. I do love you and I always will.”
Her sister smiled but, for some reason, it didn’t reach her eyes.
14
Steam was beginning to fill the bathroom, but Cheyenne let the shower run and stood in front of the mirror. She hadn’t inspected her body in a long while. There hadn’t been any point. She was the only one to ever see it. But now…now she wanted to put herself in Dylan’s shoes, to determine whether or not she was really as attractive as he made her feel.
She wasn’t too impressed with her own assets. In her opinion, several of her friends were prettier. But she wasn’t bad. At five foot nine, she was fairly tall—long and lean. Since Anita was the opposite, she assumed this genetic endowment came from her father, whoever he was. Or her old memories were what she feared. Her br**sts were a C, the size most women seemed to want, or not far from it. And she’d been told through the years that she had nice legs.
She could use a tan, she decided, but it was the middle of winter so a guy couldn’t expect too much there.
Maybe she should cut her hair. Or start lifting weights. Dylan was certainly toned.
She could get a tattoo....
Suddenly, she wanted a drastic change, wanted to break out of the constraints that held her back, try new things, take a few risks.
But she wasn’t sure how to do that. She had her mother and sister to worry about, and would need to help her sister even after her mother died. She didn’t earn a lot of money. She lived in a small town and couldn’t see herself leaving the friends she’d made. Not only that, but her reputation would probably always mean a great deal to her. So how would she ever step away from being dutiful and responsible and…boring?
Apparently, part of her wanted to break out of her cocoon, and part was afraid to emerge as anything other than what she’d been.
“Chey?”
Presley was calling her.
Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around herself and opened the door to find her sister standing on the other side. “Yes?”
“Mom and I figured out what that P.I. wanted.”
“You did?” Because of her involvement with Dylan, she’d all but forgotten about the man who’d approached Presley, looking for Anita.
“Remember that hit-and-run in New Mexico?”
“How could I forget it?” she said with a grimace. She was eleven when her mother had mowed down that cyclist, old enough to understand the terrible ramifications of Anita’s actions but not old enough to do anything about it. After that day, she’d had nightmares, could still remember the sound of their car hitting the metal of that man’s bike. But she’d never spoken of it. She didn’t want to speak of it now.
“They want to charge her with vehicular manslaughter.”
Cheyenne sagged against the door. “He died?”
“So it seems. They’ve been looking for her ever since.”
“We should turn her in.”
Presley’s chin snapped up. “What?”