Abi smooths a hand over the lace on her hip, smile still fixed. “Her courses, her behavior plan. You know how specialized schools are, Penelope. They structure every minute to keep students on track.”
“Sounds intense,” I say.
“It’s necessary,” she replies. “She’s always been a bit… impulsive. Same as Talon. The structure is good for them.”
Lila moves to my other side, crouching near my thigh. I lower my voice a little. “She’s been gone a long time. And I don’t think it’s right that her mom is getting married, and she’s not met her soon-to-be stepfather or her new sister.”
Abi’s hand tightens on the fabric. It is a tiny movement, barely there, but I see it.
“Her school year isn’t over,” she says. “I don’t yank her out just because I miss her. That would be selfish. She’ll meet you and your father when she finishes her program.”
“So she’s basically almost done,” I say.
“Almost,” Abi echoes. “Once they tell me she’s made enough progress, we’ll discuss next steps.”
“Progress,” I repeat. The word tastes sour.
Abi keeps her eyes on the mirror. “You know how it is. Children who act out, they need guidance. We don’t want her stuck in the past.”
We don’t want her stuck in the past.
My stomach goes cold.
Lila straightens. “Hem is pinned. I’ll grab a smaller size of this, and we can compare the fit.”
She steps away, leaving me alone on the platform. Abi’s stylist disappears into the racks for something, and for a moment it is just the two of us in a sea of tulle and silence.
I clear my throat. “What exactly did she do that has everyone so worried?”
Abi’s gaze slices to mine in the mirror. “Excuse me?”
“You said children who act out,” I say. “That sounds likeshe burned a church downorsaw someone get murdered.” I let a smile slip. “God, it's like you are keeping her in there because she’s in witness protection or something.”
The joke lands like a brick.
Abi’s face goes white. Not pale in a flattering way. Drained. Her lips part, then clamp shut. Her fingers curl into her skirt. For a second, I think she might drop right there on the floor.
The air between us changes. It thickens.
“Penelope,” she says, voice thin, “that is not funny.”
My pulse spikes.
I tilt my head slightly. “I want to know what family my dad is marrying into.”
Abi swallows, throat working. “Minxy is at school, and she will stay at school until she’s ready to be home. That’s all you need to know.”
I watch her in the mirror. She won’t meet my eyes now. That tiny lack of eye contact is louder than any confession.
“So you’re not hiding her,” I say very calmly. “Just making sure she can’t be a part of this family. God, you must really hate your kids. I’m glad my dad never treated me like that.”
Her head snaps around. “Watch your tone.”
There it is. The real Abi.
“You’re the one who’s keeping her locked away at school,” I say. “That doesn’t sound like the usual boarding school bullshit.”
Abi stares at me, color still not back in her cheeks. She looks as though every word I say is wrong or accusatory.
