“She’s my baby sister, Miller. You think I don’t know what she is? I’ve been watching out for her since we were kids, when Mom was pulling nights and Dad was on doubles at the station. Every time she got left at the rink with me, every time the guys in the locker room started running their mouths, I was the one standing between her and them.
“I’ve fought off every asshole who wanted a pretty little trophy on their arm, every guy who thought she was easy because she’s beautiful. She’s pure fucking sunlight, and you think I’m gonna sit here and watch you call her a fuckingmistake?”
The words hit like body blows, each one sinking lower and deeper, because he’s right. I suddenly realize exactly how it must have sounded last night when I rasped those words out in front of him and Lulu.
It was a mistake.
My stomach lurches, and my ribs feel like they’re caving. “She thinks I was calling what we have a mistake? Callinghera mistake?” I can barely say the words without them tasting like poison.
Eli’s grip tightens, his knuckles pressing into my chest. “Didn’t you?”
“No!” My voice cracks, desperate. “No, I meant it was a mistake not telling you sooner. Inevermeant her. Never.”
His jaw flexes as his eyes search mine, peeling me open. He’s not just raging, he’s carrying the history of every time he played parent, every time he shielded her from the world. And last night, I became the very thing he’s always sworn to protect her from. My chest heaves, praying he can see the truth, see how gone I am for her.
“Christ, Eli,” I rasp again. “I never—”
“Do you love her?” Eli’s eyes burn into mine.
The world tilts again, heavy and absolute. There’s no space for hesitation, not with the way he’s staring me down.
“Yes.” The word rips out of me. “Yes, I’m so fucking in love with her.”
For a beat, Eli just studies me, chest heaving. Then he finally lets go of my hoodie, shoving me back against the truck one last time.
“Then start acting like it.”
He stalks off, leaving me braced against the cold metal, his demand echoing in my head—a warning or an unhinged blessing, I’m not entirely sure.
But either way, I know he’s right. If I don’t fix this, if I don’t prove to her that I never considered her a mistake, I’ll lose her.
Chapter thirty-eight
The only thing I’ve ever wished on
Lulu
Backstage is chaos.
Glitter snow coats the floor, half the kids have lost their shoes, and someone’s crying because their wings are “itchy in the soul.”
I’m darting between costume racks with a safety pin in my teeth, hair plastered to my forehead with sweat, pretending I’m not one bad comment away from snapping in front of an audience made up of mostly parents.
And of course, the PTA are circling.
Two of them hover by the curtain, arms folded, voices pitched just loud enough for me to hear. “Looks a little… slappedtogether, doesn’t it?” one drawls. “Last year’s backdrops were professionally printed. Parents notice these things.”
My throat tightens. The backdropswerefine an hour ago—painted, hung, secure. Until suddenly, they weren’t. One sagged half off its rigging, and the glitter stars that took my kids three weeks to make had peeled away like the glue was never even there.
It feels deliberate. Like someone’s been waiting for the perfect moment to yank the rug out from under me.
And God, maybe that’s just paranoia talking, but tonight isn’t just any night. Tonight, Reid’s in surgery. Tonight, Eli's still furious. Tonight, Logan’s voice is echoing in my head, raw and broken and not what I want to hear.
I can’t afford to crumble. Not when my kids are buzzing like live wires, eyes darting to me every time something goes wrong. They don’t care about PTA sabotage. They care about whether the snow machine works, whether their line will land, whether their teacher looks like she believes in them.
So I force my shoulders back, shove the pin into the hem of a costume, and bark out orders like a general. “Shoes on, halos forward, if anyone eats the fake snow again, I’m canceling Christmas!”
“Miss Parnell,” a voice says behind me, cool and composed, cutting cleanly through the panic.
