Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) by Cecy Robson

watching me.
    “You’re creeping me out,” I tell her, because she is.
    She keeps her arms crossed, turning her attention to the MMA poster I have framed on the wall. “I’m not trying to,” she says.
    Maybe she’s not, but when she doesn’t leave, and keeps sitting there, I know something isn’t right. And I’m not so sure it’s solely about me.
    My sister’s real name is Erin. She earned her nickname because my older brothers initially had trouble pronouncing her name―but it doesn’t really fit her. I mean, it does because that’s how I’ve always known her―but it doesn’t because she isn’t exactly the delicate little bird her nickname suggests.
    She’s tall for a girl, five-eight, with long lean muscles that can kick some serious ass. I know because growing up I witnessed that ass kicking more times than I can count. Once, when I was on the receiving end―the time I cut a chunk of her straight black hair off. In my defense, we were out of string and I was trying to make a kite. The other times were when she was fighting on the street. In one incident, me and Killian were jumped by a group of assholes on our way back from school. The boys left her alone, but a bigger boy came after me. Wren defended me, even though she was a lot smaller then. I didn’t like her much before that moment―didn’t like how she bossed me around. But that day she bled to keep me safe, proving she loved me.
    I returned the favor by kicking that bastard’s ass. He may have been a few years older, but he hurt my sister so I wiped the pavement with him. We’ve been tight ever since. “Tight” in our own way. We don’t share secrets, we don’t tell each how much we mean to each other. We’re just still willing to bleed for each other, if that makes sense.
    I nudge her with my elbow because that much I can do. “What’s up?”
    “Your life is shit.”
    I nod. “Thanks. I’m glad we had this talk.”
    The corners of her mouth curve just a little. “Believe it or not, I’m not done.”
    I fall back on my bed. “I have no doubt.”
    She swivels so that her dark hair swoops against her thin shoulders. “The thing is, Finnie, your life doesn’t have to be shit. It’s only like that because you continue to mess up.”
    My arm falls over to drape over my eyes. I know what she means. The thing is, it’s not as easy as that. “It’s one appointment, Wren. Back off, will ya?”
    “But that’s how everything starts with you―that’s what you don’t get.” She pauses. “Are you listening?”
    “Yeah.”
    She bumps my leg with her knee. “I’m serious, Finn. No more drinking, no getting high.”
    I drop my arm away. “I haven’t been high in years. What?” I ask when all I see on her face is disappointment. “Why don’t you believe me?”
    “I want to, I do.”
    “So then why don’t you?” I challenge, frowning. “I missed one fucking appointment.”
    “It’s not just that. It’s like ever since that day, a part of you has been dying.”
    My eyes widen. She doesn’t need to tell me which day she means. She and Kill were the ones who saw me immediately afterward, the ones who realized what happened. They were the ones who took care of me, and made it as right as they could. We don’t talk about “that day” ever. For her to bring it up now . . . it pisses me off. She didn’t hurt that day, she didn’t beg Norman to stop―
    I jerk out of bed, rage searing through my body like it’s burning me alive. I don’t think of him―or his name. It gives him power over me, just like he had that day.
    “Shut the fuck up!” I snap.
    You want to know something about me, I don’t talk to my sister this way―I don’t talk to any woman this way. So I expect her to start screaming at me, start cursing me out. Instead her eyes soften in a way that they do those rare times I’ve seen her cry, adding to my already mounting fury.
    “Finnie,” she says, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry―”
    I wrench