“Small town. I’m not the only one.”
“But you’re the best?”
“Was. I’m recovering. Unless there’s a critical reason in my life that I need to not be.”
They are definitely suspicious.
As they should be.
“I am so curious why you haven’t really pushed harder to find out why Uncle Grey would bail out Chippy from his internet gambling addiction,” they say. “That seems like it would be a critical piece of information in your life.”
I blink.
Blink again.
And then I burst out laughing instead of taking the opening. “Chippy?”
They shrug. “Whatever his name is. I also saw his wedding disaster video. I’m on Team Emma, obviously, because who wouldn’t be? Word around town is you are too. Even though you’re related to him.”
“Can’t choose your blood. He hurt us all in nearly unforgivable ways. He doesn’t qualify as my family anymore.”
They shudder like they get it, freeze, and then their expression goes blank as the page I imagine Decker’s staring at right now if he’s up yet.
Note to self: Zen has family issues too.
According to a random note from the rest of Decker’s research, Grey’s maybe two or three years older than I am, so no more than thirty-two.
Zen’s somewhere in their early to mid-twenties.
We’re speculating that Grey’s siblings are probably much older, or elseUncle Greyis a found family term.
Zen shoves away from the prep table. “When you’re done with the grill, the fridge could use a serious toothbrush scrub too.”
“On it, mini-boss.”
“I’m a foot taller than you.”
“Eight inches, max, but you’re still shorter than the mega-boss.”
They suck one cheek into their mouth and head up front with their lips wobbling.
I silently high-five myself.
Zen doesn’t trust me.
Yet.
But I amuse them. And I gave them gossip and asked for nothing in return.
People think gossip is all about being a blabbermouth.
To me, it’s about listening. Observing. Reading between the lines. Digging deeper.
And waiting.
You don’t get the best story in the first round.
You get it when you have all of the pieces. Zen’s starting to give me pieces.
