Page 26 of Read With Your Heart

“Do I need a lawyer?” For some reason, I look at Tricia. Is this a trap? Am I signing my sister away?

Tricia’s brows furrow, and she softens her voice when she speaks. “Not unless you want one, but this is standard procedure. It’s a contract between us and you, and it’s more about protecting Amaryllis. It binds us to do all we can to provide for her, and if we don’t, this holds up in court for you to use against us. Not that I think you’ll need to take us to court, but if you’re looking for reassurance . . .”

Those green-brown eyes stare into mine. I am looking for reassurance. I need to know I’m not fucking something up with my sister while my parents are gone, especially since I don’t know how long they’ll be away.

Without another question, I reach for the paper, scribble my name, and hand it back. I sign by the guardian line, although I’m not technically Lys’s guardian. I’m sure that lie makes none of this binding, but whatever. If it gets Ms. Carter off my back and this dude to help my sister, I guess I can move on.

“Are we done?” I ask, the tone of my voice making me sound like the punk I once was as I sat in a principal’s office or in an interrogation room, wanting to be finished with the bullshit.

“We are,” teacher-dude who looks like a former football player says. “Here’s my card if you have any . . .”

But I don’t hear the rest. I take the card and slide out of the desk. I don’t shake their hands or offer my gratitude. I’m not thankful for this. I don’t want to be responsible for the girls because I just know I’m going to screw this up. I just want to be left in peace. And I especially do not want a set of forest-y eyes watching me as I walk out of the room without so much as a goodbye.

+ + +

Two nights later, a knock lands on the front door. I’d just yelled at Lys for coughing, though she can’t seem to help it, and I’m pissed that Lena’s not home yet when she’s not involved in any extracurricular activity linked to the school.

“Yeah,” I say, whipping open the door, angry with the world. I freeze when I see Tricia Carter with a tinfoil-covered pan in her hand and a duffel bag looped over her arm.

“I promised you double or nothing if you showed up, so I brought you dinner.” I stare at her a long minute as she stands on the front stoop, offering me a casserole of some type and a weak smile. Her expression remains cautious.

“What’s this?” Lena says, surprising me, and I turn to face my absentee sister.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I snarl, catching her off guard when I realize she snuck into the house. I hear Tricia’s breath hitch, and I do not need an audience when I rip into my sister again. I turn on the nosy, pushy neighbor. “We don’t want dinner.”

“What is it?” Lena presses, closing her eyes as she moves forward to inhale over the dish Tricia lifts upward.

“It’s enchiladas. I looked up a recipe.” Her voice falters as I glare at her. She what?

Before I can even question why she looked up my favorite dish, Lena reaches forward to escort Tricia into the house. “Come in and join us for dinner.”

It’s the sweetest Lena has ever sounded, and it makes me suspicious. What the . . .? I’m forced aside as Lena guides Tricia inward, holding her wrists as she brings her into the house. Tricia does a quick sweep of the front room, and I brace for her judgment. The place isn’t exactly a Hilton. It’s not even a Holiday Inn. It’s more highway motel with one-hour room rental.

Not that I see it that way. This is my home, but I just know Tricia’s assessing it.

“Our homes are twins.” She bursts out laughing. “I have that same couch.”

She’s shitting me. It’s a velour thing from like the 1970s.

“Isn’t it ugly?” Lena adds, and Tricia turns to my sister.

“Very, but it’s also strangely comfortable.” I don’t want to imagine Tricia sitting on a couch like mine. Maybe sitting next to me on one or lying under me on it. My thoughts rush through the possibilities, and then I remind myself it isn’t possible. She needs to get out of our house.

“I don’t think tonight’s a good night for—”

“Ms. Carter?” Lys’s soft voice reaches us, and I close my eyes. My youngest sister thinks this woman is a goddess. She talks about her every damn day. I can’t get away from Ms. Carter.

“Hey, Amaryllis. I have something for you.” Tricia hands the casserole dish over to Lena, who lifts it to her nose again, and I watch as Tricia drops the duffel bag on the living room floor. After she unzips it, she pulls out a winter coat, holding it up to herself.

“I’ve outgrown a few things.” She looks at Lys. “Gained some weight over the years.” She winks at my sister, but there isn’t an ounce of fat on this woman. I’ve seen her body outlined in those tight dresses she wears. I’ve also seen her naked through the window. Nope. No fat. Not anywhere.

“I thought you might be able to use these. If you don’t like them or don’t want them, you will not hurt my feelings. I can pass them to my nieces who go to the high school, but I thought I’d ask you first.”

I’m so pissed I practically vibrate. We do not want her secondhand handouts or her dinner or her fucking help. I want her out of this house, and I’m ready to make that happen any way I can, including lifting her no-fat-anywhere body over my shoulder and hiking her back to her side of the driveway.

Then Lys speaks. “I love it.” The dreaminess to her voice, and the desire in her eyes for the long wool coat cuts me to the quick. She what?

“Got anything in there for me?” Lena asks like a petulant child who didn’t get a gift. To my surprise—although I shouldn’t be surprised by this woman who I knew was trouble the moment she ran into me in the alley—Tricia bends to reach into the bag and pulls out two more jackets. One has an embroidered emblem with the brand Lena has wanted. The other is a puffy ski jacket with the same logo. Lena fights a smile. She wants them both but plays it up like she can’t decide.