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She took the phone from my hand and dropped it in her purse. “Please. I was made for this shit. Remember when I snuck into the boys’ locker room one night to put itching powder into Brandon Swanson’s jock strap?”
I smirked. “That was pretty epic.” Seeing a bully finally get what he dished out had been awesome.
“He deserved every miserable minute of it.”
“Hell, yeah, he did.” I sobered, squeezing her arm with my hand. “Thanks, sis.”
“Always.” She winked, then turned for the door. “Love you, babe.”
“Love you more,” I called back at her.
* * *
A half hour later,I hadn’t heard from Conner and was a tangled ball of nerves when my phone pinged with a reply message from the burner. I’d already sent an initial text before I’d even given the phone to Pippa, just to make sure it worked.
Sante: Em? You ok?
Me: Hey! Yes, but I wanted to talk to you.
Sante: Call?
Me: No, in person. Think you can get away from the house without Dad knowing?
Sante: ?? Why can’t he know?
Me: Please, it’s important.
I waited anxiously as the conversation dots appeared and disappeared three times before his reply appeared.
Sante: Where? Now?
Me: Yes, now. I was thinking of that diner Mom used to take us to. Romeo’s.
Sante: See you in fifteen.
Me:??
Conner had told me not to go out, but this was too important. I finally had a chance to talk to my brother and couldn’t waste the opportunity. Plus, I was worried whatever Conner was doing involved my father. I had to find out what was going on.
The diner was halfway between the new apartment and my old house. While waiting for Pip to arrive, I’d decided it would be a perfect place to meet up, should I get the chance. Mom used to take Sante and me there to get milkshakes when we were little. We’d all three share, alternating turns to pick a flavor. I was hoping the good memories might make the difficult conversation easier.
When Sante spotted me in one of the glittery green vinyl booths, his answering smile didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s this all about, Em?” he asked as he slid in across from me.
“I needed to talk to you without Dad listening in. You know how paranoid he’s gotten since Mom died. He’s actually the reason I wanted to talk.”
“Yeah, but for good reason. He worries about us.” He glanced around the half-empty diner. “This feels deceptive, and I’m not crazy about going behind his back.”
“We’re adults, Sante. We should be able to have a private conversation.” Frustration washed over me. How could I ever convince him of the truth if I couldn’t even get him to talk to me freely?
He caught my eyes, the corner of his mouth snagging upward. “So now you’re willing to admit that I’m an adult?”
I coughed out a laugh, relieved to ease the tension between us. It was the tiniest of first steps—not anywhere near enough to unload the bomb I was carrying. He would freak out and cling to denial, then I’d never reach him.
“Yeah, I’d say we’ve both grown up a lot in the past year.” I smiled, and when the server came to take our order, I told her a milkshake and let him choose the flavor. “For old times’ sake.”
“So what’s worrying you about Dad?” Sante asked without his earlier defensive tone.
“Some stuff has gone on recently that you don’t know about, and it’s made things tense between Dad and Conner.” I decided to tiptoe into safer territory rather than cannonball straight into Mom’s death.
