When I was a little girl, I always thought mirrors told me a lot about myself. I put too much stock in how pretty people thought I was. As I got older I’d spend hours in front of a mirror trying to make sure I looked perfect. Now, the pane of reflective glass served as a reminder of what I couldn’t be, who I would never be. I kept staring at myself, even as I forced a hairbrush through my hair—searching. I would search forever, just to find a piece of who I used to be. Was the Raelynn of years ago completely destroyed?
“When I was a kid, it always felt like you were ripping my hair out from the roots when you brushed it. I thought you hated me that much.” My sister Breanna’s voice broke through my thoughts.
I stopped mid-stroke of the brush to keep from jumping and ripping my own hair out. “I never hated you.”
“I know. Now I realize being rough with the brush was all you knew, with all that hair and all those waves.”
I rolled my eyes. The hum of the air conditioner kicked on just outside the door. Cool air began to fill the room, fending off the heat of late summer. “It really is. I didn’t luck out like you.” My sister’s hair was straight and glossy like midnight. I’d always envied it.
“What? With these beautiful dark brown—” She flipped her hair, caught a piece and scowled. “Dull, drab, and straight as a board locks? I like the highlights in yours, makes the blue in your eyes pop.”
Breanna’s tall frame filled the doorway. Two years younger than my twenty-one and nearly a foot taller than me. A thin, willowy figure that had once seemed gangly and awkward. Age had turned that into tall and sexy, with a flare to her hips that led down a length of long tanned leg that was hard for me not to be jealous of.
“Whatever. Your hair is gorgeous, Rae.”
“I know, but so is yours. I happen to like yours better.” My sister was a welcomed distraction from the reflection in the mirror. I gestured to the floor in front of me. “Sit down and I’ll pull it up for you.”
“What if I don’t want it up?”
I cut my eyes at her. “You always wear it up.” I was hard pressed to recall a time when she hadn’t worn it in her signature swinging ponytail.
“What if I don’t want you messing with it?” Now she was just playing games, teasing in a way little sisters did.
I pointed at the floor with the brush. “You’ve always wanted me to play with your hair, Breanna.”
“Fact.” She tucked her legs beneath herself as she sat in front of me. Her reflection blocked my own in the mirror. Unwittingly, she’d saved me.
I pulled the brush, much more gently now, through the shining mass of hair. It slipped like spun silk through my fingers. I brushed it until it was shining. Our Native American heritage shone much more brightly through my sister. I had once envied her for it. Not anymore, I appreciated her beauty.
“Maybe you wanted to punish me with the hair brush because I was the cuter kid.”
Beautiful, but a little annoying.
The hairband made a popping sound as I snapped it with force. “You were cuter. But, if I was punishing you, it was because you broke something of mine. Or worse, something of Aiden’s and tried to blame it on me. Or you were snooping through my things. Telling embarrassing stories to boys I liked. I punished you for being an ass, not for being cute.”
“Puhlease,” she drawled out. “There were never boys. There was a boy. One. And he’s still hot.”
I gave a sigh and shook my head. “I was a kid.” There were more than a few secrets I’d kept from my sister over the years. As silly as it sounded, I didn’t want her to think of me as the type of girl to nurse a broken heart. Even if she’d be right. There had only ever been one.
“And? I say it again, he’s still hot.”
“It’s not about being hot…” I started, she followed my gaze to the mirror. Large brandy colored eyes stared back to mine. Hers, like my father’s and mine blue like my mother’s.
“Do you still like him?” There was a quiet urgency to her voice.
I looked away and pulled her ponytail tight one last time. “I think I’m a little past that.”
“What about that guy at college?” She unfolded herself from the floor.
It was a battle to keep my voice even, to stop it from cracking with emotion. “I’m back here, aren’t I?”
“So, he’s irrelevant?”
I found myself thankful she hadn’t seen the flash of emotion in my eyes and that I’d kept it from my voice. There were a lot of reasons I’d come home, none of which I was ready to talk to her about.
“And Jordan’s still hot.”
I shook my head and gave a rueful smile, instantly locking the painful memories away again. She was right, Jordan Slater was still hot.
“So why not? Other than the obvious reason.”
I made a valiant attempt to evade her line of questioning by searching out my clothes for the evening. It was bad enough I was going to spend the rest of the night with him. I didn’t need to be grilled about it. “Obvious reason?” I pulled on a clean pair of shorts.
“Devin McAlister.” Breanna made a kissy face complete with noises.
The bed creaked as I slumped onto it, my mouth dropped in surprise. Cold, icy shock traveled down to my toes. Devin?
“Wait. What? You can’t tell? Hell, everyone knows Rae.” Her open hand waved in a wide arc as if to include the whole world.
“Knows what?” My heart was beating faster, my breath caught in my throat. Of course, I cared about Devin, but I didn’t like Devin. He was one of my best friends.
