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“Hattie.” She shoots me a look. “If there was a Noble Kane Hate Club, you would be the president.”

“That’s not true.” I walk over to the dresser and pull out my workout clothes, trying not to let her see that inside, I’m asking myself, Is that true?

Because that’s not who I am.

Oh, crap. Is that who I am?

“I was afraid that if I was nice to him, you’d be mad at me,” she says. “I mean, I never really understood why, since everyone else has sort of moved on, but—” she shrugs— “I know how you are.”

I frown and turn back. “How am I?”

“You know,” she says with a flick of her wrist.

“I don’t know,” I say, hands motioning to give me an explanation, please.

She sits cross-legged in my oversized chair, grabs one of my throw pillows and hugs it to her chest. “You hold everyone to these really high standards. Like, impossible standards. When they let you down, that’s it. No second chances.” She pauses. “It’s a lot to live up to.”

“I don’t think it’s bad to expect people to do what they say,” I argue.

“It’s not,” she says. “But sometimes people screw up.”

“And if they make it right, then I’m happy to move on.”

She stares, eyes blank.

“What?” I ask, incredulous.

“Hattie.”

“What?”

“Come on.”

“You really think I wouldn’t get over it?” I ask. “You think that if someone apologized, I wouldn’t accept it?”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever given anyone the chance.” She shrugs. “Do you know how hard it is to disappoint you?”

I go still and think back to all the ways Noble screwed up. She can’t possibly think I was too hard on him. My anger was justified.

Right?

I step into my bathroom, but leave the door cracked as I flip on the water to brush my teeth.

“All I’m saying is it’s a good thing,” Rowena calls out. “Forgiving him and moving past it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m working on it,” I say with a mouthful of foam. I spit the toothpaste into the sink and turn off the water.

“Okay, well, while you’re working on that, maybe you’ll start accepting the truth.”

I pop my head out and look at her. “What does that mean?”

She stands and walks over to me. “You like him.” A pause. “Like really like him.”

“Don’t be dumb.” I move back into the bathroom, shut the door, and whip off my pajamas, pulling on a sports bra and a pair of shorts.

“It’s just you and me, Hattie,” she calls from the other side of the door. “You can tell me, you know, if you like him, like him.”

I open the door and give her a look that only a big sister can give a little sister.