CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Gianna
He left. That fucker really left.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Drake
I left. I really fucking left.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Drake
“There’s my boy,” Mom says, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her smile is a little brighter, a little less forced than it’s been recently. “How was your drive?”
“Excuse me,” Evie says from the sink. “Why do you sound so happy when he shows up? When I show up, it’s like, ‘Oh. Yay. Evie’s here.’”
Mom rolls her eyes. “That’s not true.”
“It is true,” I say, tugging Evie’s ear as I walk by her. She smacks my hand away. “She loves me more.”
“Be nice,” Mom says as she pulls me into a big hug.
The house is warm and filled with the unmistakable fragrance of pot roast and apple pie, evoking nostalgic childhood memories. It’s the scent of late nights after football practice, of Sunday afternoon dinners and chilly fall evenings. It’s comfort in its simplest form.
Dad and Elodie’s voices trickle in from the family room over the sound of one of Dad’s Westerns. Evie complains as she returns to doing the dishes—a chore everyone knows, because she never fails to remind us, is her absolute least favorite. Momstirs something on the stove, content that her family is home, and for the moment, life is as it should be.
“Where’s the boyfriend, Eves?” I ask, peering over Mom’s shoulder into a pot of noodles.
“Like I’m going to bring him here. We just started dating.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mom asks. “Why wouldn’t you bring him here?”
“Oh, let’s see. How far back should we go?” Evie sighs with the drama only the youngest child can provide. “Tony Rosedale. Brock Lon. Kyle Stannus. Then there was Xander Willoughby.” She looks at me over her shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Remember what you did to him?”
I lift a brow. “Remember whathedid toyou?”
“I remember he never talked to me again. That’s what I remember.”
“Who are we talking about?” Elodie asks, giving me a quick hug.
“Your siblings are discussing why Evie won’t bring her new boyfriend home,” Mom says.
Elodie fights a grin. She understands. Unbeknownst to Mom or Evie, Elodie was the one who told me that Tony fucking Rosedale grabbed my sister by the neck and shoved her against a wall. She didn’t rat out Brock or Kyle, and I can’t remember how I discovered Xander’s misdeeds. But word gets around in a small town, and my older sister made sure certain things got back to me.
“So how far along are we in the list?” Elodie asks. “Have we hit David Darrow yet?”
“Thank you,” Evie says, grateful to have support. “I’m glad that someone understands what a cockblocker Drake is.”
“Evie Mae!” Mom gasps. “What did you just say?”
