Page 107 of Truck Me
“Not now, Mom. I need to talk to Rayne.” I run up the stairs and head straight for Rayne’s room. When I open her door, I find her curled up on her bed, hugging a book close to her chest.
She looks just as upset as me. Her face is red, and her eyes are puffy. Tears run down her cheeks, and her lower lip quivers.
I drop to the edge of her bed and reach for her. Thankfully, she comes to me and wraps her arms around my waist. She sobs into my chest, dragging even more tears from me.
“Why did you say that about Garret?” I ask as I rub my hand over her back.
It takes her a minute to calm herself down before she sits up on her own and looks at me. She hands me the book she had clutched to her chest. Only it’s not just a book. It’s a journal.
“What’s this?”
She looks up at me, her eyes overflowing with tears. “Mom’s journal.”
Those two little words cause my heart to lurch and get caught in my throat. My ears are ringing, and my head is spinning. I close my eyes and clench my hands around the journal.
Carol always kept a journal, and she never left home without one. It was her thing. The one consistency in her life. For me it was lists, but for her it was writing. Ever since she was old enough to hold a pen, she wrote in a journal.
And it wasn’t just writing. Sometimes she’d fill the pages with drawings. Another detail about her that I let slip into the recesses of my mind and didn’t let myself think about. It was far too painful to recall these details about her.
I open my eyes and study the book in my hands. It’s a beautiful leather-bound journal with Carol’s name stenciled on the front in gold letters. I open it to the first page and seeing her name written in her handwriting nearly breaks me. I struggle to hold back my own sobs. I squeeze my eyes closed and take in a few deep breaths until I’ve calmed down.
Glancing at Rayne, she’s watching me with caution as if she doesn’t know what my reaction will be. Hell, I don’t know what my reaction is going to be either. There are so many emotions swirling around inside me that I can’t process any of them.
I’m a wreck trapped beneath the weight of every sad and depressed emotion known to man with no way to pull myself out of it.
“You read this,” I say. It’s not a question because I already know the answer.
Rayne nods. “I found a whole bunch of them. Mom wrote a lot.”
“Yeah.” I trace my finger over the curved letters in Carol’s name. “It was her thing. She kept a journal for as long as I can remember.”
“There are letters in that one to you. Mom knew you had a crush on Garret in high school.”
My vision fades as more tears fill my eyes and the sob I’ve been struggling to hold back escapes. “It was a silly crush. I don’t think Garret even noticed me back then.”
“I think he did. Or at least Mom thought he did.” She shrugs and falls back into her pillows. “It’s all in that journal. Said she was pretty sure Garret liked you too, but you were dating Tanner Koch instead. And we all know Mutters and Kochs don’t get along.”
I can’t help but let a low snort out at that. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“I don’t think Mom meant to have sex with Garret.”
“Rayne!” Mom shouts from the doorway. I’d forgotten she followed me up here. “What do you know about sex?”
Rayne rolls her eyes. “I’m old enough to know what sex is, Grandma. I’m just not old enough to do it yet.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m way too old for this conversation.” Mom presses her hand to her chest and leans against the wall like she needs it for support or else she’d fall to the ground.
“You and me both, Mom.” I mumble and refocus on Rayne. “What else did your mom write?”
“That they were both lonely and one thing led to another. She didn’t stop it from happening because she was mad at you for moving away and leaving her all alone. Garret wasn’t the only person she was having sex with. There were others. But he’s the only person she named in her journal.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I find myself fighting more tears. I hate hearing that Carol was mad at me. That she left this world in an unhappy place. And I really hate that her pain drove her into the bed of a man I’ve fallen for. A man I want to be with because he makes me feel special and desired and appreciated.
But how can we move past this? How can I be with a man that was also intimate with my sister?
Newsflash, Char. You both already fucked him. The thought makes me cringe.
I shove my fingers into my hair and push to my feet. Pacing around the room, my mind wanders in a million directions. It’s not like I’m the only person Garret has had sex with or vice versa. Past relationships are just that—past. This isn’t the first time siblings have fallen for the same man.