Cry Little Sister Read Online Free Page B

coffee before taking the seat opposite her. “That would make it even more brilliant if they wanted us, and everyone else, to think we were siblings.”
    “But…why?”
    “Did you know mom had been married before?”
    The toast she ate swiftly lodged in her throat. This was becoming a habit, choking on her food. “No she hadn’t.”
    “Yes, she had. I found the certificate of marriage in the desk. Kelly Singer married Kurt Paulson two years before you were born.”
    “I…”
    “And dad was married before too.” He watched her as he sipped his coffee.
    “To..when?”
    “Two years before I was born. Doug Davis married Bonnie Donaldson at a small church in Virginia.”
    “I…”
    He smiled at her. “I know. It’s a lot. But it’s got me wondering if he was married two years before I was born and she was married two years before you were born. And then they met and fell in love we’d have been…”
    “About a year or so apart,” she finished, forcing one more bite of yogurt into her mouth.
    Gareth reached across the table and squeezed her arm. The feel of his skin on hers shot up her arm, bloomed hot and red in her chest. Jordan bit her lip, waiting.
    “I’m just wondering if it’s true because we’ve always been close Jojo…but since we were teens…there was more. And not necessarily in a good way. And we’ve danced around it, ignored it, joked about it but you know…it’s there. There might be a reason why. And it might be okay.”
    It might be okay . That socked her in the gut—the implication that the things she sometimes thought or felt for him were okay.
    “Okay. So we sprinkle dad’s ashes and we look into it.”
    “We look into it.” He nodded. “But let me ask you a question.”
    “What?”
    “If I were to act on all this shit I feel for you…what would you do?” He cocked his head, waiting for her to answer.
    “I don’t know.” She kept her voice low but her heart was racing.
    “Would you run from me?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Good.”
    * * * * *
    The trail ran alongside the river and because of the weather, Gareth and Jordan hadn’t seen anyone for miles. They were trying to get to the small waterfall that flowed year round barring the occasional severe drought. Even during those dry periods, it was a trickle of water over the rocks.
    “Hello?” Jordan called.
    No one answered.
    “Who are you helloing?” Gareth chuckled and shook his head at her. She was amusing to him, Jordan could tell.
    “Anyone who might be here. I don’t just want to start flinging…dead person around.”
    Her brother began to laugh in earnest and she punched him briskly in the arm. He hissed and flinched but it was all for show. Jordan knew that had hurt Gareth about as much as a fly bouncing off of him.
    “Hello?” he called, raising his voice so anyone in the vicinity might hear.
    Nothing.
    “I think we’re good,” Gareth said and took her hand.
    They walked to the edge of the water and Gareth dug in the pack until he found the urn. Jordan swallowed hard against the prick of tears in her eyes. She hadn’t expected the sudden emotion but there it was.
    “Here. You do it.” He broke the seal and handed her the brass container. It was simple, small and engraved with just their father’s name. Not even birth to death dates. Doug Michael Davis.
    That was all.
    “We love you, dad,” she said. That was all she could really think to say beyond the obvious. “You were a great dad, a wonderful man.”
    Then she tossed them. The ashes for the most part drifted and some even clumped on the still water. “Oh shit,” she breathed.
    But then the rain came tumbling down—a sudden rush of water from the sky—her tears on a larger scale. “There we go,” Gareth chuckled.
    “Good. I was afraid we’d have clumps of…” A sob ripped out of her and she was mortified. “ Dad ,” she finished on a tortured wail. How embarrassing.
    But Gareth simply smiled and pulled her in against him.