CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A black Jeepwas already parked under the carport, June dragging on a cigarette like it was her last breath.
I punched Rick in the arm. “That’swho you were texting?!”
He gave me a sheepish smile. I pulled my knees up onto the seat, hugging them close.
“You’ve got to get out,” Rick whispered, placing a hand on my back and giving me a few pats. It reminded me of when Dax had comforted me after the first break-in, and my insides ached for his company again. I couldn’t help but feel relieved that he’d got away before seeing my life truly unravel.
I peeked out the window at the woman I had believed was my sister for the last thirty years pace behind her car and my heart broke all over again. Would she still want me now? She was the reason I’d been brought into this family, from what Dad had told me yesterday. We’d become so attached at the children’s home he couldn’t bear to separate us. Shared trauma does that to people, I guess. Did she resent me for overstaying my welcome now that she knew? That’s if she did know.
We weren’t exactly best friends, and we’d enjoyed tormenting and outdoing each other as we grew up, the way thatmost siblings do. Would she be glad to have this ultimate trump card over me? She really could be the favourite daughter now.
She was the only daughter. Colin’s only living child. My head started spinning again, and I felt overwhelmed by the loss. So much of it.
The door to the car opened, and June stood in a grey pencil skirt. Clearly, I’d missed the grey memo today, which was surprising given my mood. Her silvery eyes filled with unshed tears, and she flicked ash from her cigarette. Her gaze raked over my curled-up frame on the passenger seat, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
I didn’t need to ask. She knew.
“Did Rick tell you?” I exhaled, leaning my head against the seat. I couldn’t look at her anymore; it was too much.
Half of me hated seeing her there, the proper daughter. The other half of me felt a wild surge of gratitude for that loving six-year-old who’d once rescued me from hell. Without her, who knows where I’d be now? Probably next to Olivia.
June had been my lottery ticket, and as much as I was filled with envy at the blood in her veins, that meant she belonged; I could never hate her for it. Not ever.
She leaned into the car and wrapped an arm around me, unexpectedly pressing her face into my hair. Her other hand diligently held her cigarette outside the window. Neither of us spoke, but the occasional snorts into my neck told me she was crying. I didn’t dare speak. If this was goodbye, I wouldn’t survive it.
“Are you okay?” she whispered into my ear, tangled beneath my hair, the way she used to when we shared a bed as kids.
I shook my head.
I had no energy left to be stoic Riley today. I was broken.
It felt like someone had dropped a sheet of toffee on the ground and I’d shattered and scattered. I didn’t even knowwhere to begin putting myself back together—or if I had the strength to try.
She sniffled again, then stood up, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her crisp white shirt. I hadn’t seen her this upset since Josh’s funeral.
“Why are you here?” I asked quietly, not wanting to prolong another missile of pain if it was coming my way. Might as well get it over with.
Her brows drew together, and her spine straightened. “Rick texted me.” Her tone said obviously without needing the word.
I glared at my friend, who’d conveniently chosen this moment to take another call. Bastard.
“I can’t believe he told you.”
June put her hands on her hips, her cigarette dangerously close to what I was sure was a very expensive skirt.
“He didn’t.”
“What? Then who?”
“Dad,” she said, surprised at the question. Her eyebrows still bent.
“When?” The blood drained from my face. Had Dad lied? I mean Colin. I wonder how long it took to remember the name changes for family you weren’t related to anymore. Maybe she’d known all along after all. Oh well, I guess it was better out in the open where she wouldn’t need to continue with the lie of being my sister. She was probably relieved.
“Dad called me last night after you left.” She cleared her throat. “I guess he wanted everyone to know.”
“Good to see he was finally on a truth-seeking mission,” I replied bitterly. “But now you know. You’re under no obligation to stay.”
