Chapter 50 Talia
The kitchen feels too bright for how little sleep I got. It’s pushing noon, which is the only reason I’m even upright. If Dante hadn’t dragged me into this whole gym together plan, I’d still be in bed, pretending last night didn’t happen....Or replaying it.
I’m leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching the microwave tick down. I could’ve just done a couple pull-ups in my room, maybe some sit-ups, called it a day. But no, apparently we’re being productive today.
The front door clicks open and Josie walks in, balancing a couple of PR boxes in her arms. She drops them onto the counter with a soft thud, her eyes flicking over me briefly, quick and assessing, before she turns to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water.
I feel that look. That quiet "I’m noticing things" energy she tries to hide. She cracks open the bottled water, takes a long pull, and leans against the door. "You got in pretty late last night," she says, her tone deceptively casual. "Thought you said that shoot was only supposed to be a couple of hours."
She was asleep by the time I got back, but of course she clocked the time. And of course I don’t have a clean answer for that. I blink, the lie already souring in my mouth before I even speak it. I hate lying to her, but explaining the reality is a conversation that would take three days and a therapist.
I shrug, aiming for 'exhausted professional.' "Equipment issues," I mutter. "The producer wanted to reschedule, but we all just figured it was better to push through and get it over with. No one wanted to go back today."
It’s technically true, there were equipment issues at the start of the night, but the omission feels massive. Josie gives a slow, measured nod, her eyes lingering on me for a second too long.
The microwave's beep saves me. I turn toward it with a level of gratitude usually reserved for life-rafts. I grab my food, and for a fleeting second, I consider retreating to the living room, but I know Josie's suspicion radar. Leaving the room now would be like hanging a neon sign over my head that says 'Ask Me More Questions.'
I compromise by taking a stool at the counter, leaving a two-seat buffer between us. I watch as she starts tearing into the tape of her packages, her face set in that focused, content-creator mask. My mind is a mess. I’m debating the merits of just coming clean, admitting I ignored every piece of advice we ever gave each other and dove headfirst into the Steele-shaped wreckage.
Then, my phone vibrates in my pocket. My heart doesn't just race, it tries to exit through my throat. My grip on my spoon tightens, the metal digging into my palm. He said he’d call.
Josie doesn't look up from her unboxing, but I can see the stillness in her shoulders. She’s on high alert, her ears practically twitching. I pull the phone out, already half-off the stool, my brain preparing a graceful exit for some "private business."
I look at the screen. It’s not him, it’s Talia. A sharp, cold wave of disappointment washes over me, so sudden and visceral it makes me feel sick. I feel the guilt follow a millisecond later, hot and stinging. 'That’s your sister, Kaden.' I mentally scold myself, 'get your head out of your ass.'
"Everything okay?" Josie asks, her eyes finally snapping to mine as she notices the weird tension in my face.
"Yeah," I say, my voice a little too rough. "It's Talia. "
"Say hi for me," Josie says, not looking up from her PR haul but clearly tuned in to the conversation.
I love Talia, but our relationship has always been a series of covert operations. Matty spent years trying to keep her shielded from me, peddling some archaic bullshit about how I’d "taint" his daughter. As if being gay was a contagious condition she might catch if we spent too much time together. But in the rare pockets of time when he wasn’t lurking, we were inseparable. Even with the ten-year age gap, she’s always been the one person who could make me feel like a kid again.
"Why're you calling me at noon on a Monday?" I ask the second I hit the green call button. "Please tell me you haven't started your delinquent phase, Tal."
"Relax, my God," she huffs, though I can hear the congestion in her voice. "I have a brutal cold. Mom let me stay home."
I scoff, leaning forward slightly. "Sure you just didn't finish that history essay you were complaining about last week?"
"I’m wounded. Literally," she counters, though she doesn't push the joke. "How are you?"
"I’m okay. Just buried in work."
I run a hand through my hair, bracing myself for the inevitable follow-up. It’s been three years since I’ve stepped foot in that place. Life, distance, and the sheer mental tax of dealing with Matty have kept me away.
"Are you coming to visit soon?" she asks, her voice dropping an octave. "I miss you. A lot."
"I miss you too. I'll try to find a gap in the schedule soon, okay?"
"Maybe I can just come to you instead," she suggests, her tone turning uncharacteristically serious. "I’m thinking about looking for a job. Saving up for a ticket or something."
I frown, the older brother instinct kicking in immediately. "A job? Tal, you’re fourteen. Let’s maybe finish the eighth grade before we start worrying about the labor market."
"I'll be fifteen in a few months! I’m not a child, Kaden. I’ve been babysitting the neighbors' kids for ages, and Elsie’s mom owns that little froyo shop by the park. She needs a counter girl for the summer. I’m going to have Elsie put in a good word for me."
I shake my head, even though she can't see me. "I get it. You want your own money, you want to feel grown up. But just focus on school for now. You'll have plenty of time to be an overworked adult later."
"You didn't," she fires back, and I can hear the sudden sharp edge in her voice. "You dropped out of college."
"Yeah, but I finished high school first."
"With a job," she counters instantly. "Why is it different for me? Because I’m a girl?"
"No, because...." I stop, slightly frustrated. "It’s just not the same thing, Tal. Why the sudden rush to be independent?"
She lets out a long, heavy sigh that sounds far too weary for someone her age. "I just want..." She trails off, the silence on the other end stretching uncomfortably.
"You want what?"
"Nothing," she mutters, her voice sounding small. "I just miss you. That’s all."
I catch a slight tremor, a dullness in her tone that wasn't there five minutes ago. Usually, Talia is a ray of relentless optimism, the kind of person who finds the silver lining in a thunderstorm. Today, she sounds bleak. Maybe it’s just the teenage angst finally catching up to her, was bound to happen eventually I guess.
"Anyway," she says, clearing her throat to shake off the mood. "How’s Josie? I’m planning on binging all her new clips today since I’m a 'shut-in' now."
"She’s good. She’s right here, actually. Wanna say hi?"
"Yeah! Put her on."
I outstretch the phone to Josie. She looks up immediately, a smile already spreading across her face as she takes the phone from me. "Hey, gorgeous! What’s this I hear about you skipping school, huh?”
As they talk, I lean back against the seat. There’s a shadow in Talia's voice that feels hauntingly familiar. Kinda like the same one I used to have right before I realized I had to leave. I push the thought aside, but it lingers anyway.