Rachel’s eyes keep darting between me and whatever’s behind me like she’s watching a tennis match in hell.
“Eliza?” she repeats, her voice going up half an octave. “What are you doing here?”
I turn my head toward Alyssa, confusion cutting through the fog of interrupted pleasure still clouding my brain.
“Eliza?”
Alyssa steps up next to me, her face cycle through about five different expressions in the span of two seconds. The fury from moments ago melts into something more calculated. More careful.
“Hello, Rachel.” Her voice comes out steady. Controlled. Like she’s greeting an old acquaintance at a coffee shop instead of standing here in a clown bikini covered in white paint with my apartment destroyed behind her.
Rachel looks baffled. Her eyes scan Alyssa’s outfit. Then her gaze shifts back to me, to the white smeared across my face, and I watch the pieces click together in real time.
The horror that washes over my sister’s expression is almost funny.
“What the fuck is happening?” Rachel’s voice cracks on the last word.
Alyssa turns her head to look at me, then back at Rachel. Her eyes narrow slightly, squinting like she’s doing math in her head. Like she’s weighing options on some invisible scale only she can see.
She sighs. The sound carries resignation.
“Sorry, Rachel...” Alyssa’s voice drops lower, losing that controlled edge. “My name isn’t Eliza. It’s Alyssa.”
Rachel explodes.
“WHAT?” Her face goes from pale to flushed in an instant. “We were FRIENDS! We met at a fucking ‘Supporting Loved Ones Living with Suicidal Thoughts’ meeting!”
I cock an eyebrow at my sister, genuine surprise cutting through everything else. “You go to those meetings?”
“You’re my BROTHER!” Rachel’s voice reaches a high pitch. “I don’t want you to kill yourself, idiot!”
I almost scoff. The urge bubbles up in my throat and I have to physically swallow it down. She was always so disconnected when we talked. Even the other day at the coffee shop, sitting across from me with that flat observation about Lauren, like she was checking boxes on some mental welfare list rather than actually giving a shit.
“Look...” Alyssa steps forward slightly. “I needed to get to know you so I could figure out how much of a threat you were to Caleb.”
“His name is ADAM!” Rachel’s hands clench into fists at her sides. “And the only threat to him is YOU!”
She pushes past me into the apartment as she takes in the destruction. The scattered books. The shattered plates. The overturned coffee table. Her head swivels slowly, cataloging every broken thing with growing horror.
“What the fuck?” The words come out quiet this time, barely above a whisper.
Then her arm shoots out, finger pointing directly at Alyssa.
“We met TWO YEARS AGO!” Rachel’s voice builds again, that accusation landing like a physical blow. “TWO. YEARS.”
I turn to look at Alyssa, and I can’t help it. A smile spreads across my face, probably making me look like an idiot with white paint smeared on my chin. But the revelation hits different than it should.
“You’ve been interested in me for that long?”
Alyssa’s head whips toward me.
“Two years?” Her green eyes flash with something between amusement and annoyance. “Oh baby, much longer.”
Rachel’s arms spread wide, gesturing at the chaos around us.
“Okay, but seriously, why the fuck is everything a mess?” Her voice gets louder with each word. “Why is there just broken shit everywhere? And why the FUCK are you dressed like a clown?”
Alyssa doesn’t miss a beat. She steps closer to Rachel, tilting her head slightly.
“Well, until you rudely interrupted us...” She pauses, letting the words hang in the air. “Caleb was dining on my clown pussy.”
“I...” Rachel’s voice comes out strangled. “I CONNECTED THE DOTS.”
She gestures wildly between my paint-covered face and Alyssa’s outfit, her hands shaking.
“BUT WHY IS EVERYTHING IN HERE DESTROYED?”
Alyssa shrugs. “Well, obviously because I was upset.”
The matter-of-fact tone she uses makes it sound like throwing a complete destructive tantrum is the most reasonable response in the world. Like everyone handles their emotions by turning their living space into a war zone.
“Rachel, relax.” I step forward, trying to inject some calm into this situation. “It’s fine. You’re misunderstanding.”
“MISUNDERSTANDING?” Rachel’s voice cracks. “Your girlfriend destroyed your apartment! She lied to me for TWO YEARS! And you’re standing there with white paint on your face telling me I’m MISUNDERSTANDING?”
“Wife,” Alyssa corrects, her voice sharp.
“You’re not his WIFE!” Rachel turns on her, that fury redirecting like a laser. “You’re some psycho stalker who’s been infiltrating his life through mine!”
Alyssa’s face contorts into something sharp and dangerous. She doesn’t say anything. Just turns on her heel and stalks toward the kitchen counter.
I watch her grab her purse, fingers moving with violent efficiency as she digs through it. She pulls out a folded piece of paper and storms back, shoving it directly into Rachel’s face.
“This is a copy.” Her voice comes out clipped. Cold. “But this is our marriage registration.”
Rachel snatches the paper out of her hands, her eyes scanning down the document with increasing horror. Her finger trace along the signatures at the bottom, and then her head snaps toward me.
“Did you really sign this?”
I try not to smile. “It certainly seems so...”
Rachel’s hands drop to her sides, the paper crinkling in her grip. Then both hands come up to cover her face, fingers pressing into her forehead.
“What the fuck is happening.”
The words come out muffled, barely audible through her palms. Her shoulders start to shake slightly, and I can’t tell if she’s crying or just trying to process the absolute insanity of this situation.
Alyssa takes the document back, folding it with deliberate care before tucking it back into her purse. When she turns around, her expression has shifted into something more diplomatic.
“Alright.” She sets her purse back on the counter. “I think it’s a good time for you to go.”
Rachel’s hands drop from her face, and the look she gives Alyssa could melt steel.
“Jesus Christ... I came over to fucking tell Adam…”
“Caleb,” Alyssa corrects.
Rachel doesn’t budge. Her brown eyes lock onto mine with intensity that makes my chest tighten.
“Adam.” She says it deliberately. Firmly. “Madison reached out to me, and she told me you really didn’t kill Lauren...”
The words hang in the air like smoke. I feel my brain stutter, trying to process what she just said. Madison. Reaching out to Rachel. After everything that happened at the bar.
“I’m sorry, Adam...” Rachel’s voice softens. “I was...”
“ENOUGH!” Alyssa’s scream cuts through the apartment like a gunshot.
She moves so fast I barely register it. One second she’s standing by the kitchen counter, the next she’s directly between me and Rachel.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Her voice reaches a pitch that makes my ears ring. “RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”
Rachel takes a step back, her eyes going wide. “I’m trying to tell him that…”
“I DON’T GIVE A SINGLE FUCK WHAT YOU’RE TRYING TO TELL HIM!” Alyssa’s whole body trembles with rage, the pom-poms on her bikini shaking with each heaving breath. “You have spent YEARS treating him like he’s broken! Like he’s some kind of murderer who needs to be monitored!”
She advances on Rachel, and my sister retreats toward the door.
“You don’t get to come in here NOW!” Alyssa’s hands clench into fists at her sides. “After everything! After making him feel like shit for a DECADE! You don’t get to just waltz in and play the caring sister!”
“I’m trying to help…”
“I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HELP HIM!” Alyssa’s voice cracks with desperation, but there’s steel underneath it. “I’m the only reason he didn’t kill himself a few weeks ago! ME! I’M HER!”
She takes another step forward, and Rachel retreats another step back.
“HE DOESN’T NEED YOU!”
I watch Rachel’s face, and something breaks in her expression. The fury drains away, replaced by something that looks almost like pain. Her mouth opens slightly, then closes.
She stares at Alyssa for a long moment. Then at me. The hurt in her eyes is raw.
“Alright...” Rachel’s voice comes out quiet. Defeated.
She nods. Then she just leaves. No argument. No final words. She turns and walks out my door, pulling it closed behind her.
The silence that follows Rachel’s exit feels heavier than it should. I stand there staring at the closed door, processing what just happened.
I turn to look at Alyssa.
The fury is still radiating off her body in waves, her chest heaving with rapid breaths. White paint cracks slightly around her clenched jaw.
Then her expression shifts. The fury drains away like water circling a drain, replaced by something softer. Concerned.
“Baby...” Her voice comes out careful, gentle. Like she’s approaching a wounded animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. “Are you okay?”
I blink at her. The question doesn’t quite compute at first.
“Do you... do you need to talk about it?”
The weight of everything settles over me. Rachel’s revelation about Madison. The diary. The decade of accusations finally being proven wrong. My sister actually believing me for once.
And I just... don’t care.
None of it changes anything fundamental. The vindication feels hollow.
But Alyssa’s standing here. This gorgeous psychopath who just defended me with more ferocity than anyone ever has in my entire life. And my dick’s still hard from before Rachel interrupted us.
“Can we please fuck, Alyssa?”
Her mouth spreads into this massive grin that transforms her entire face. I can see pure delight radiating from every feature.
“Of course, baby.”