“Apparently, there have been some complaints? I don’t know what they call it. Accusations? There’s a social worker who may want to talk to you about my . . . skills.”
Not if I get to Carson first. I know what this is. It’s a reminder, a warning of what’s to come. He’s screwing with her to remind me to hurry it along. I will fix it for her. I will make it go away. I will make all of it go away.
I want to tell her and I can’t.
We stare at each other until Bren turns to the oven—either because she can’t look at me anymore or she just wants the conversation to end—and watches her soufflé through the window. “You remember Lily has a cheer competition this weekend, right?”
No, actually, and I’m pretty sure that makes me a rotten sister, but I’m grateful for the conversation turn. Heartfelt confessions always make me feel like a fat man’s sitting on my chest.
“Yeah, ’course I remember. It’s downtown or something.”
“Birmingham.” Bren straightens, checks the cookbook. “Would you like to come?”
Under different circumstances, yeah I would. Lily loves cheering and she loves it even more when I come. I just can’t afford the time away, not if Carson’s going to play these games.
“I wish. I have a history project that’s really kicking my butt.” I pause, knowing I’m pushing it with what I’m about to ask. “Do you mind if I stay home?”
“We’ll be gone for the whole weekend.” Bren’s statement curls up at the end, fitting in Are you sure? and She’ll have every light in the house on behind the words. I should probably be offended. All I can think about is the windfall. Two whole days. It might be all it would take. A smile slings across my lips.
“School’s important.” Bren touches her fingers to the cookbook like she’s reading the text, but her eyes never move. “You can come to the next meet. . . . Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”
She picks her way so carefully through the question, it sounds practiced, like this was expected. Maybe it was. After Todd’s attack, all Bren wanted to do was keep Lily and me close to her. If she had her way, we would both be homeschooled now and travel everywhere with her. She’s trying really hard to give us space.
I’m manipulating that.
I scrape my fingernail against the counter, not meeting Bren’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I have a few school things that I can take care of while you’re gone.”
“You sure?”
“It’s no big deal.”
I slide off the bar stool, stop dead. “Bren? How did that work? When you paid Bay to push through our adoption papers?”
Now she’s not looking at me. “I worked with his assistant, the girl who died.”
There’s something to that, a taste behind my teeth I can’t name . . . yet.
“You know you can’t say anything about that, right, Wick?”
“I won’t. I would never.” I hesitate. We have nothing left to talk about, but I feel bad leaving her.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask.
Bren goes so still I know she’s about to lie. “Of course, sweetheart, everything’s fine.”
And we’re both so good at this, I almost believe her. I go upstairs, turn on all my lights, text Carson to call off his dogs, watch my window and my air vent.
Until midnight, when Griff climbs in from the dark.
10
“What are you doing?” I whisper. I can’t stop my smile though, and when Griff sees it, he grins.
“Your light was on and I wanted to see you.”
It makes everything in me do a stupid wiggle dance. “See me for what?”
“Midnight picnic.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” We’re kneeling on the floor beneath my window, knees almost touching, and Griff nudges closer, mouth brushing mine. It makes the skin on the back of my neck prickle to life.
“Sneak out with me,” he whispers against my lips.
I nearly laugh. Hells no. There’s no moon tonight and two of the streetlamps are dead. Problem is, if I say no, I’d have to explain. How do you say “I’m afraid of the dark” without sounding like a two-year-old?
“I dare you.” His words curl through me, hit bottom.
“You’re on.”
Griff blinks, smiles. I’ve surprised him. I’ve surprised myself.
I shove my feet into sneakers and go to my bedroom door, listen for Bren. I’m pretty sure she went to bed ages ago.
“We’ll be back in an hour,” Griff says. “She’ll never know.”
I follow him to the window; take a steadying breath as I look down into the shadows.
“You want me to go first?” he asks. “Catch you as you come down?”
I’m not sure which is worse: Griff thinking I’m afraid of falling or Griff knowing I’m afraid of the dark. I roll my eyes. “What? You think this is the first time I’ve snuck out of my bedroom?”
He grins and I kick my legs over the sill, digging my sneakers into the nearest tree limb. It holds under my weight and I scramble to the ground in only a few seconds. Maybe not the most graceful thing I’ve ever done—
Griff drops down next to me, chest skimming my arm, heat rolling off him. If I lean forward, we could kiss.
“Nicely done, Wicked.”