“You look exhausted,” Ivy mumbled, gently grabbing onto Ridley’s tense shoulders. She squeezed, leaning down to press a kiss to the younger girl’s shoulder. And then another. And another. Ridley released a deep breath, relaxing only slightly. Her fingers continued their scroll of her mousepad.
“I am exhausted,” Ridley replied. She felt Ivy’s hands lower from her shoulders, wrapping around her. The blonde rested her head on Ridley’s shoulder, leaning her head against hers.
“Then why don’t we go to bed?”
“What are you even doing?” the older woman asked. Ivy narrowed her eyes, reading the highlighted words on the Google page. Her brow furrowed. “Who is Marcus Masters?”
“My older brother,” Ridley answered. She clicked on a link. “The one I’ve never met.”
“Probably with good reason. He has a prison record,” Ivy said, staring at the new webpage, eyes scanning the information on it. Her eyes widened slightly, reading the charges. Ridley was also distracted by the information, taking it all in. “Why are you doing this?”
“I want to meet him.” Ridley picked up a pen and scribbled a few details onto a sheet of sketchbook paper. “He was arrested in Tennessee and his last known address was in… New Jersey?”
“Ridley, he’s a sex offender. Meeting him sounds like a terrible idea. You’d be better off without him.”
“Ivy, my parents kicked me out. He’s the only family I have right now. Besides, the charge is over a decade old. He could have changed. Look, he was even let out early.” She wrote down a few other notes. “My father hid him from us for my entire life, insisted he was not worth our time.”
Ridley turned her head to look at Ivy. Her hand stopped its writing.
“And maybe he was right about me being an abomination.”
She looked back at the computer, scribbling a few more notes. Ivy sighed, squeezing her. She was still so impressionable. Ridley was still finding herself. Ivy knew this. She also knew that with finding yourself came a decent amount of pain and all Ivy wanted to do was protect the girl in her arms from everything that would cause her harm. She also understood the pain that came with not knowing a piece of your family and needing that missing piece to the puzzle. She had felt that.
“You know you’re not. I know you’re not… Look, if you’re going to meet him, then I want to be with you. To make sure everything’s okay.”
“Yes. Now go check the offenders list for his most recent address. I’m putting you into bed.”
Ridley stared at the door for a long time. He lived so close. They both lived in New York. He had lived in New Jersey like her. Had her father known? Had he known his son and oldest child was so close by? That they could have met him, brought him into the family? Maybe if her father had reached out in his childhood, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in prison at such a young age. All of these thoughts and more ran through her mind as she stared at the door. What if she was at the wrong house?
“You don’t have to do this,” she heard Ivy say behind her. She felt Ivy’s hand gently rest on the small of her back.
“No… No, I do.” Someone in her family had to.
She took a deep breath and lifted her hand, knocking quickly before she grew too frightened. There was silence. It stretched for a long few moments. Ivy watched Ridley as she waited.
Then there was a shuffling from inside. Both young women stilled, tensing up, Ridley from nerves and Ivy from a protective demeanor. It took another few moments and then the door opened.
There he was. He reminded her of their father. Pale skin. Darker hair. Bright blue eyes. Except Marcus wasn’t clean shaven. On his fingers, though, was paint. Just like her and her father. He had dark bags under his eyes, she assumed from not sleeping. The two of them matched in that way.
“Can I help you?” he asked, revealing an English accent. Ridley’s heart sped up. English like her and her younger brother.
“You’re my older brother.”
They had sat in silence for a few minutes. Ridley and Ivy sat on the couch while Marcus sat across from them in an armchair. He stared at Ridley, studying her face just as intently as she studied his. Ivy had taken a hold of Ridley’s hand a few moments after they sat on the couch, growing distracted by Ridley wringing her hands together.
“I’m sorry. I just- What makes you think we’re brother and sister? Let alone related?” he answered. “The only similarity I’m finding is our accent.”
“My mother spoke about you.”
“… Doctor Evangeline Carter,” Ridley answered hesitantly.
“Can’t say I know that name.”
“Yes, but you must know the name William Carter. That’s my father.”
“There are probably plenty of William Carters out there,” Marcus retorted, waving a dismissive hand. Ivy’s teeth clenched at his tone and attitude. She didn’t like it. Ridley was vulnerable enough, not to mention anxious to near sickness. He didn’t need to make it worse by treating her this way. She stopped herself from squeezing Ridley’s hand.
“Yes, well… My William Carter is an artist. He was born and raised in Dublin, Ireland. He met your mother in secondary school and you were born shortly after. Dark hair, blue eyes, usually clean shaven. He’ll be fifty next year.”
Ridley pulled her phone from her pocket and began searching through it.
“If what you say is true, surely you know that my father left me when I was five. I don’t remember what he looks like.”
“Yes, but I’m sure you’ve seen pictures.”
Ridley opened an old family photo and held the phone out to Marcus. He took it after a moment’s contemplation. He stared at the photo for a long time.
“How did you find me?” He handed back her phone. Ridley took it, slowly pulling it back to her. She glanced at Ivy who nodded and squeezed her hand supportively.
“The sexual offenders registry…” Ridley answered, somewhat embarrassed. Marcus swallowed hard, looking down at the floor. He tapped the arm of his chair a few times. Ridley and Ivy both watched him, Ivy more tense than the younger girl. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Let’s just say no one taught me how to love. Not until it was too late,” Marcus answered. “The biggest mistake and regret of my life.”
“Um, well, I’m a toxicologist. I’m sort of in between jobs, though,” Marcus answered, happy to change topics. “Are you in school? How old are you?”
“I’m seventeen. I go to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.”
“Gifted, huh?“ He knew what that meant, but he’d let her decide when to tell him. "Your girlfriend at the gifted school as well?”
Ridley’s eyes widened slightly and she glanced at Ivy. Were she and Ivy that obvious? Ivy’s expression remained stone cold, unconcerned by his realization.
“No. I’m twenty,” Ivy answered. Marcus cocked an eyebrow. He and Ivy stared each other down. Well, what was a twenty year-old doing with a high school student? Not that Marcus had been much better. He’d been nineteen while his last girlfriend was seventeen. Difference was that he’d still been in high school.
Ridley pointed at his fingers.
“Hobby. I guess I got it from my father… our father.”
