Savior Complex: A Small Town Love Triangle Romance

I stand, look at the full laundry basket on the floor next to the couch, then step over it to trudge up the stairs to my room. After undressing, I’m about to throw my clothes into the chair pile I have growing in the corner of my room when I remember the piece of paper in my jeans pocket. I pull it out, unfold it, then read it.

Likes Tony Bennett. Cares for animals.

“Calls me Sugar,” I whisper.

After this dinner from hell, I’ll get to ride horses with Brayden on the beach. At least I have that to look forward to.

Chapter Four

Nina

I pull up to Aunt Lil and Uncle Dan’s house, but don’t get out of my car right away. It’s already been a full day, and the sun is just starting its descent. This morning’s shift was full of issues, starting with Susan forgetting to schedule someone for the afternoon. I had spent every free moment of a very busy morning begging any of my coworkers to give up their day off before one of the guys finally caved. Then I’d Ubered over to the mechanic, who tried to convince me it was time to think about another car. This latest fix cost at least double what the car was worth, which wasn’t an easy pill to swallow. But how can you put a price on memories? My grandmother’s car was so much more than tin and vinyl. It was a childhood of trips to the ice cream shop or slow drives down country roads. It was my grandmother’s off-key singing and windows rolled down. It was my youth, and it was her.

I wasn’t giving up the car.

But I still held my breath as I traveled up the Grapevine highway, or every time I accidentally drove faster than fifty-five. By the time I pull up in front of my aunt and uncle’s house, my muscles ache from clenching them and my eyes burn from exhaustion.

The silver Lexus parked out front lets me know my parents are here. Behind them is a huge Dodge Ram, which I guess is Jordy’s, even if it seems completely out of character. The cousin I knew would be in a luxury car like her parents’, not some huge pickup truck with three-foot tires. But it’s been a few years, so anything is possible.

I muster the courage to leave my car, looking down at what I chose to wear. I don’t cater too much to my mother’s fashion preferences. My hair, much to her dismay, is always jewel-toned. Since I had time this morning, I dyed the fading blue a vibrant shade of turquoise with purple highlights, and I’m wearing fuchsia eyeshadow to match. My skirt is a little looser than the ones I like to wear, simply so my mom won’t notice I’ve put on a few more pounds. I paired it with a baggy sweater that hangs off one shoulder, plus a few necklaces that hang below my chest. On my feet are stiletto booties that show off my calves, which is a feature I’m proud of. I might have too much cushion around my ass and waist, and not enough muscle tone in my arms, but my legs are shapely, especially when I wear heels.

And this outfit is cute enough that even my mom might like it.

I knock on the door, then wait for someone to answer. I can hear them all laughing inside, already starting the party without me. I wonder if I turn around and leave, would they notice? I have half a mind to do so, when Uncle Dan opens the door. He kisses me on the cheek, then steps aside so I can come in.

“How was the drive?” he asks.

“Not bad,” I say. This will be the extent of our conversation today. Sure enough, he nods, then heads back toward the dining room where everyone is, leaving me to follow.

“Hey there, Pumpkin. Glad you could make it,” my dad says as I pass through the kitchen. He claps me in a hug, then kisses my forehead.

“Hey, Dad. What’s new?”

“Not much on the home front. You should stop by sometime, pay your old folks a visit.”

Yeah, not going to happen. I love my dad, but the less time I can spend around my mom, the better.

“Can I make you a cocktail or get you a beer?” my dad asks, pulling a beer out of the fridge for himself.

I open my mouth, but my mom calls out from the dining room.

“Lil got her those skinny margaritas in the outside fridge, Steve. Remember?”

My face reddens, and my dad shoots me an apologetic look, then shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll go get it for you,” he says, and starts to leave.

“No Dad, I got it,” I say. I’d rather have a cocktail—a real one—but Skinny Margaritas will have to do. About five of them, please.

I enter the dining room where my mom is with my aunt and cousin, all seated at the dining table. My mom plucks a cheese cube from the appetizer tray in front of them, then glances at me. Her eyes linger on my hair, then sweep over my body, her smile a mask on her face as she does her usual inventory. She catches my aunt’s gaze and an unspoken message passes between them. Later, when everyone is gone, my mom will let me know their assessment on my health, complete with a set of instructions on how to fix what I’ve wrecked. “I made you a special veggie platter with fat free dip, it’s in the kitchen.” She smiles at her sister, who nods in approval.

“You won’t believe the ingredients in some of those full fat dips,” Aunt Lil says, taking a swipe at the full fat dip in front of her with her carrot.

I haven’t even put my purse down, and I don’t even want anything on that tray. But I settle into dutiful family punching bag mode, offering a polite nod to Aunt Lil, then a quick glance at Jordy. In the half second I take to look at her, I am filled with regret—about my outfit, my life choices, everything. Jordy looks incredible. She always has, but I’d forgotten just how beautiful she was, with her white tooth smile and flawless appearance.

She’s wearing a low-cut top in silky black, the kind that my mother would never let me wear, but it looks stunning on my cousin. Her skin is golden tan, as if she just got back from the Bahamas. Also gold are the long necklaces resting between her breasts. Her dark hair is sleek and straight, and her brown eyes shine with long lashes and perfectly applied makeup. She excuses herself, and I see the perfect shape of her pear ass in high waisted white pants, accentuating the impossible length of her legs, finished off with a pair of black strappy sandals and a modest French manicure on her toes.

I caught all that in a half second, and I realize that next to her, I’m a goddamn hobbit.

“Did you see the ring on Jordy’s finger?” my mom hisses once Jordy is out of the room, but well within earshot of Aunt Lil. I hadn’t, didn’t even know she was engaged. It’s yet one more thing that Jordy has that I don’t. Probably never will.