Step one of getting to the brighter side was to make things official with Connor.

When he came over with loads of snacks for a movie night, I wasn't initially expecting to jump on that decision so quickly, but after I found myself opening up to him about my past, I knew that whatever was budding between us was serious.

I was tired of fighting the connection. Tired of trying to deny myself of things that made me happy. And while I'm still trying to reassure myself that I deserve to have good things, taking Esme's advice has me feeling a sense of relief as I approach the next step of getting to the brighter side.

Big Sisters of America is having a craft day downtown at the local community center. I called earlier to inquire if Monique would be here and if it would be okay for me to show up. The woman on the phone practically begged me to attend this event.

With Thanksgiving right around the corner, autumn streamers hang from the rafters of the gym, the loud door shutting loudly behind me. Chatter and laughter echo from the high ceilings as I stride for two older women standing off to the side with clipboards. They're overseeing the event, I assume.

Long folding tables take up the majority of the gym with about every craft you could imagine. Paints, paper, brushes, easels, construction paper, all of it looks like a rainbow threw up on everything in sight. It's almost enough to scare me off. I consider not being able to do this until I spot Monique at a table by herself.

She's cutting along one of the pieces of construction paper seeming deep in thought, and the sight of her alone practically breaks me.

Everyone else has a big sister in the program from the looks of it, and it doesn't help that she's isolated herself from the rest of the pairs.

"Hello." One of the women smiles warmly and glances up at the clipboard. "Are you Aria?"

"Oh. Um, yeah. That's me." I shift awkwardly on my feet.

"It's not often she gets newcomers," she admits. "We are so thrilled for you to be here for Monique. She's been having some time...adjusting to the program."

"She really is a sweet girl," the other woman adds. "A lot of the children coming from foster care take some time to warm up. That's all."

Oh, god.

My stomach twists up in knots thinking of Monique as a little girl all alone just like she is now at the table. I don't blame her for isolating herself or not wanting to talk to others.

"How long has she been in the program?" I ask.

"Only a few weeks. Her current foster parents thought she might benefit from being in a mentorship program. It's taking some time to find her a mentor, but hopefully that changes today." A spark of hope ignites in her eyes. "If today goes well and you want to join the program, come see us at the end and we'll help you fill out the paperwork."

After a dip of my chin, I let out a nervous breath and do a quick shake of the hands before I head for the table Monique is sitting at.

If this is something I truly want to take on, I have to be one hundred percent serious about it. Becoming a mentor for someone is a huge responsibility. Especially when Monique doesn't have anyone else to look up to from the sounds of it.

I linger by the table and watch her finish cutting a purple heart from the construction paper. When she senses my presence, she looks up, furrowing her brows together until realization dawns on her. "The girl from the coffee shop," she says.

"Good memory," I reply. "Mind if I sit?"

After a moment of hesitation, she shakes her head and starts on another heart. "I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me. I don't need a big sister. The only reason I'm here is because my foster parents are forcing me to."

Lie.

I saw the look of desperation in that coffee shop when the woman she was with asked me about joining the program. She needs someone but she's too hurt to admit it.

And isn't that ironic?

I plop down across from her anyway and fold my hands in front of me, waiting for her to give me her attention again. She continues to cut the paper, ignoring me, but I don't mind. This partnership isn't just about her. It's about me redeeming myself, and unlike what I did to my sister, I'm not going to give up on Monique.

I'm determined.

"Listen, I think you're old enough to have adult conversations. I don't know how you got to be in the program, but I know that when you've seen bad stuff, you mature faster than you're supposed to, and believe it or not, I can relate to that."

That grabs her attention. She lifts her eyes to mine skeptically, waiting to hear me out.

"I didn't come today because I felt sorry for you. I came because you're not the only one who's closed themselves off to everyone around them." Out of nerves, I grab her scissors and construction paper, cutting a heart of my own. "Becoming a big sister would be a big responsibility that I don't take lightly, and accepting me as your big sister is something you shouldn't take lightly, either. That's why I'm going to be honest with you and lay everything out on the table. If you choose me as your big sister at the end of it, then great. If not, then at least I can say I tried."

This is the most honest I've been in the past five years. I've kept this day locked away and swore to never speak of it again, but I refuse to go into this without her knowing my fear of disappointing her.

Monique blinks, unable to speak from the confession. Her afro is held by another intricate headband, and the image reminds me so much of my sister that I fear I might burst into tears.

The other side.

I need to get to the other side.

"My sister committed suicide five years ago." The sentence comes out thickly on my tongue, and I drop my voice lower to ensure nobody else around can hear. "I was getting ready to go to a party that night. Before I left, I visibly saw she was upset and offered to stay, but she encouraged me to go. I promised to check in on her and..." I swallow back the tears. "I didn't. I was too caught up in a boy to check on her, and because of that, I've never been able to forgive myself.

"So, if you agree for me to be your big sister, you need to understand that I'm still trying to work on the whole disappointing people thing. I have a huge fear of it. I was a shitty big sister in the past, so to come here and offer to be one to you sounds ridiculous the more I talk about it, but I think we could be good for each other. Learn from each other."

Monique continues to stare at me like I'm insane, and hell, maybe I am. I don't have a single clue what I'm doing. Healing myself means being honest and speaking of the memories that haunt me. Everything I've researched said talking about it should help. However, maybe I should be speaking about it with a therapist, not a thirteen-year-old girl.

"Right." I rap my knuckles on the table from the silence, tilting my lips into a sad smile. "I'm a lunatic. I get it. I'll just let the women know it's not going to work out."

When I begin to rise from the table, Monique grips my wrist, stopping me. I can hardly breathe when my eyes meet hers again. "My dad overdosed when I was in the same room as him. I was only six. My mother ran off two years ago with some boyfriend on a binge and left me alone. I tried to survive by myself, but the cops eventually found out, so I was taken into the system." After a few beats, she says, "That's my baggage. Figured you should know before we start this partnership thing."

The nerves seem to flood directly out of my body. Not only did she confide in me, but she's not badgering me about my baggage, and I appreciate it more than she could ever know. We seem to be a lot alike.

Learning from each other was originally wishful thinking, but maybe being around her will heal the gaping wound I've felt in my heart for years.

Since she didn't pry more about my horrible past, I'll offer her the same courtesy.

"Thanks for sharing that with me," I reply. "Now let me see the pink paper. I want to make another heart."

***

After filling out the necessary paperwork, I'm officially Monique's big sister for the duration of the program year, and it feels good. My body is buzzing with energy as I bounce from toe-to-toe in the lobby of Connor's luxurious penthouse building. He said I didn't need to call if I ever wanted to visit, so I hope he truly meant it.

"Alright Ms. Monroe, you can head on up." The concierge gives me a warm smile, extending his hand towards the elevator.

The entire ride up, I can't shake the smile on my face.

I thought agreeing to become a big sister would terrify me, but it's doing the opposite. For the first time, I feel like I'm doing something to make my little sister proud of me. I've held myself in the dark for so long, and although I'm not completely out on the other side yet, I think I'm beginning to see the light.

The doors open, and Connor is standing in the entryway of his home looking delectable as ever. His muscular arms are toned and prominent in the black t-shirt he's wearing. A smile of his own is formed on his lips, his curls ruffled like he just woke up from a nap.

"Hi, baby," he says in a gravelly voice.

The nickname used to bother the hell out of me, but now it envelopes me in a blanket of comfort when I drop my overnight back to the floor and run into his arms.

He hoists me up so my legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling me close. In his arms, I feel safe. Protected. His tight grasp reassures me that he'd never let anything happen to me.

When we first met, I never thought he'd be someone I'd inexplicably trust, but time and time again Connor has proven he isn't going anywhere.

It's scary to let him in, but after putting a lot of thought into it I realized it's scarier to not have him in my life at all, and if I continue to block him out, his leaving my life would be inevitable.

I kiss him swiftly. "Hi. Mind if I spend the night?" We have an away game tomorrow, so I figured staying here would be best considering it's much closer to the airport than my townhome.

He grins wider. "I thought you'd never ask."

When he sets me down and grabs my backpack off the floor, I follow him through his house to his bedroom. My eyes are focused on his muscular back. He has a freaking shirt on for crying out loud and I can still see the muscles years of hockey have crafted.

"The top drawer is free," he says, flopping down onto the bed.

"I—what?"

"The top drawer," he repeats and points at his dresser. "It's free for you to keep things here. That way you don't have to lug a backpack every time."

Glancing over my shoulder, I eye the drawer in question before curiosity gets the best of me. When I open it, Connor is indeed telling the truth. The drawer is empty. He emptied it before he even knew I would be coming over to stay the night as if in preparation, and knowing that...

"You cleared a drawer for me." I try to keep my voice from shaking but it's almost impossible.

"I would have cleared more room, but I figured when the time comes we'll get a place on the outskirts of the city and move there instead."

"When the time comes?" Spinning to face him, he must see the look of incredibility on my face because he immediately laughs and rises from the bed to close the distance between us.

He lifts my chin to stare up at him. "When you're ready. I don't want to rush things for you, Aria, but I'm also not going to lie about how serious I am about us. I have all the patience in the world when it comes to locking you down because I know without a shadow of a doubt there's no one else for me. I chose you a long time ago without even realizing it. Now that I'm fully aware of my feelings, I'll wait a lifetime if it means getting to the point of putting a ring on your finger."

I can't help it. Big, salty tears fall down my face before he swipes them away with his thumbs, caressing my cheeks. "I appreciate your patience more than you'll ever understand." Because I want this. It's just terrifying to admit how badly I crave it. "Ugh, I hate crying. I'm sorry."

"Never apologize for your feelings. It's better to let them out than to keep them locked inside."

"And you know this from personal experience?"

His lips twist into a sad smile. "Partly. I'm still trying to work through that dilemma myself. Maybe we can conquer it together."

The hot-shot hockey player has so much more to him than his looks and reputation. I should have known when I took those first few photos of him at the beginning of the season. His eyes are the way to his heart, always reflecting more than he lets on.

The more I get to know him, the more I'm beginning to understand that he's a person willing to help everyone except himself. He's a puzzle I haven't been able to fully solve, but I'll damn sure get to the bottom of it.

"I'd like that." Running my fingers through his curls, his eyes flutter shut from the feeling. "Should I unpack, or..."

He chuckles deeply before tossing me onto his mattress, earning a squeal of delight in return.

The man crawls onto the bed until he's hovering over me while wearing a smile filled with wicked promises. "I have a few ideas of what we can do first."

Author's Note:

Sorry this update is a little late! I've been traveling all day. 

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