I snort. “Come on, sis. You wouldn’t make much of a detective with that attitude. Just do me this favor.”
She sighs and then gives me an explanation of the woman. The more she talks—auburn hair in an unruly ponytail, tight workout gear—the deeper the pit in my belly gets.
“Grace thinks we’re together,” I mutter in disbelief, my voice choked. “All this time, Grace has thought we’retogether. Jesus Christ, back then, when she asked‘Is this about Gemma?’ …I thought sheknewyou were my sister. I must’ve mentioned you to her, when we were together …”
I lean back, ignoring the shocked look on Gemma’s face, searching my mind.
I leap to my feet and grab the tennis ball, launching it at the wall.
“Fuck,” I growl. “No, I don’t think I did. Jesus Christ, we were so in love, but we were teenagers. We were selfish. I never wanted to talk about myself. Just her. Just us. I never mentioned you, Gemma!”
“Wait, Harry, slow down,” Gemma says, standing up and extending her hands like I’m going mad. “You’re saying that woman was Grace?”
“I think so,” I whisper, dread in my voice. “And now she’s stormed off thinking that I’ve betrayed her.Fuck. I need to find her. Now.”
I stride from the room, letting the tennis ball thud to the floor.
I barge through the door with my shoulder and jog across the office, taking out my cellphone as I run onto the field, turning in circles.
I ring Grace as I turn and turn, searching the faces of the camp-goers for Grace,myGrace.
All this damn time I’d thought she fucked me over.
And she’d thought exactly the same.
