“Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Like any cousin, I suppose.”
“I wish you’d tell me. Really tell me. I’m trying so hard to understand where you’re coming from, but you won’t help me.”
My spine ramrodded, the muscles in my back tensing. “I don’t know what to tell you, Lynnie. Neither my aunt, uncle, nor Vinny were happy to have me there. Vinny and I had some goodmoments, sure. But we were never close, and it showed then—it still does now.”
“He came to check on you, though. Doesn’t that count for something?”
I shrugged.No, it didn’t.With a flat tone, I added, “He didn’t have a say in his parents’ house, sure. And he tried more than they did, I’ll give him that.”
“So, you’re not on bad terms?” she asked, leaning in.
“Wouldn’t say we’re on good ones either.” My fingers closed around my mug, thumb worrying the rim. “Honestly,” I added after a beat, “I’m mostly mad he didn’t help with Lincoln.”
“So you don’t think he’s a bad guy?”
“No. Sometimes, I think Vinny just lets himself get sucked into shitty things.” I met her eyes again.
“What do you mean?” Lynnie ask, shifting closer.
“It’s not important.”
“I’m trying so hard to understand and be here for you, Nina!” Lynnie countered. “I thought we were getting closer, friendly, again.”
I opened and closed my mouth before responding; Lynnie wouldn’t understand it’s safer to never have than to lose people. “We are but it’s pointless to talk about things I can’t change.”
Lynnie tilted her head and pressed her lips into a thin line before swallowing.
I stared down at my notes for the BrightMark pitch. Lincoln’s throat had worked on a thick swallow, hurt etched in his features when I’d rejected his help.
“You’re thinking about Lincoln,” Lynnie said with renewed determination as if she wanted back those nights when we talked ’til midnight about anything and everything.
I snapped my gaze up. “No, I’m not.”
She grinned, sharky but soft. “Uh-huh. All glowering, all grumpy energy. Well, except secretly you want him to serenade you under your window with a boombox.”
I laughed despite myself, covering my face with one hand. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re in denial,” she singsonged, leaning back in her chair. “But hey, you’re allowed to hate that the only thing you hate about him is that you don’t hate him. Not even close. Not even at all.”
I couldn’t handle how her words rang true. So I deflected. “I think you’re getting your pop culture references mixed up. There’s no boombox when Heath Ledger sings.”
Lynnie laughed. “True, true,” she said, shrugging. “However,10 Things I Hate About You,way more applicable.”
And just like that, I was thinking about how Lincoln had been trying to do better. Except the Lincoln I knew would peek through sometimes. With Diego. With Natasha. It felt different. Having him lashing out because of me rather than at me. But I still didn’t think I could trust who he was trying to be now.
Carmenand I had snagged a tiny corner table at a bustling taco spot at Six Corners, the kind where the salsa came in mismatched bowls and the tables were always just a little sticky. Taco Tuesday deal came in handy, but I had some pocket change to eat out and be social. As I bit into the tortilla, relief seeped into my bones.
“So,” Carmen said around a chip, her dark eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “What’s the deal with you and Diego?”
I nearly choked on my Mexican cola. “Diego and me?”
“Yeah, he didn’t take his hands off you at Lalo’s last weekend. It was like watching a telenovela.”
“Your family’s awesome. You could feel how close y’all are.”
She waved me off. “Doesn’t make a difference. Sometimes, you get shipped off to schools in the suburbs anyway.” Her brow furrowed, and she swirled her straw in her frozen piña colada. “Anyway, you certainly enjoyed the closeness.”
Her expression closed off, and I decided we weren’t close enough for me to push. “Diego’s sweet, Carmen. He’s like—” I paused, searching for the right word. “A marshmallow. Fluffy and gooey, but?—”
