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“If he’s out here, he doesn’t have time for us toregroup.”
“Kim, come on. I’m sure he’s fine. He survived prison. Pretty sure he’ll be able to handle a couple hours on the mean streets of Suncrest Valley.”
“Pierce is the reason we’re even out here!”
“You’re blaming this on me?”
“No, I’m blaming it on your asshole boyfriend.”
“Look, I know he’s been difficult lately—”
“Difficult? He’s a jerk, Iz! He’s always been a jerk. And if he’s going to constantly be on Tristan’s case, I don’t want him at our apartment anymore.”
Anger blazes through me, and I’m not sure why. I don’t even disagree with her. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m angry at myself for not accepting this sooner and for allowing it to get as far as it did. Because now what? Now I’m in an impossible situation. If I break up with Pierce, it will look like it’s because of Tristan and cause a firestorm. If I don’t…
I shudder at the memory of Pierce’s frosty expression tonight. I don’t even want to see him again, let alone touch him. The words are on my tongue to confess to Kim, but I stop when I see the worry on her face. She’s already consumed with fighting Tristan’s battles. I can’t give her mine as well.
It only makes me more upset at him for dumping this on his sister. Doesn’t he realize how hard that whole thing was for her? How he destroyed her life as well? She had an incredible future lined up that got stripped away when she went comatose with grief that first year. Every time she’d go visit him, she’d come back a complete wreck. It crushed her to see him, but no amount of pleading could convince her to abandon him like everyone else had.
I did my best to pick up the pieces and hold her together through it all, but even I couldn’t understand her loyalty to someone who only had himself to blame for his struggles. He dug his own grave, and I’ll never forgive him for ruining my best friend’s life as well. She should be setting scoring records at Baker State. Instead, she’s locked herself in a self-imposed limbo of existence that’s steadily destroying her.
“And what if he goes back to the apartment and we’re out here looking for him?” I ask, trying a new tactic.
She stops, her expression softening in thought.
“That’s a good point,” she says. “He’d check his phone, right?”
She pulls hers out and sends a message. “There. Now he’ll know to call us.”
“And if he doesn’t check his phone?”
Her eyes narrow on me. “Of course he will. I can’t believe he left without it in the first place. I mean, it’s yourphone. It’s practically your whole life.”
“Not for someone who hasn’t had one in years.”
My anger melts away at the fresh pain on her face. Tears well in her eyes, and my heart breaks for her as I pull her in for a hug.
“You’re doing everything you can,” I say softly.
“I’m not,” she replies, anguish in her tone.
“You are. You’re giving him a place to live. Paying his expenses. You’re doing everything you can to be a good sister.”
“I’m not!” she hisses, pulling back.
I wince at the hatred on her face, but I don’t think it’s for me. Something isn’t right. With her. With this situation. In fact, it’s all felt wrong since Tristan showed up in our living room.
“Kim, what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
She shakes her head, dislodging a few tears down her cheeks.
“I can’t,” she whispers.
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Tell me what? Is it about Tristan? About what happened?”
