My sister looks furious. Embarrassed, indignant, and damn if it doesn’t satisfy mejust a little bit.
“Please take your hand off me,” she snaps at the man, ripping her arm away with more force than grace.
He lets go immediately, stepping back. “She insisted on coming in alone.”
“I didn’tinsist,” Katherine mutters sharply. “I just don’t need to be dragged around.”
I nod to the guard. “Thank you.” He dips his head once and returns to the shadows outside.
Katherine pushes past me without waiting to be invited inside, heels clacking against the hardwood, posture stiff enough to snap.
I shut the door, exhaling slowly. “Kat?—”
“What iswrongwith you?” she hisses, spinning to face me. Her cheeks are blotchy, her hair windblown in a way she’d never normally permit. “Why did you call me if you were just going to have mejumpedby thugs at the end of your driveway?”
“They aren’t thugs.” I keep my voice level; the last thing we need is a full-blown fight with Andrea in earshot. “They’re protecting me and Andrea.”
“They grabbed me!”
“You drove up the road in a panic,” I counter. “What did you expect them to do? They’re alert. They’re following orders.”
“Oh, of course,” she scoffs with sarcasm sharp as glass. “Orders. From your new what, Roxanne? Your boss? Your criminal overlord? Your?—”
“Don’t,” I say quietly, “finish that sentence.”
She clamps her mouth shut. The urge to pace hits her, and she does exactly that—circling the living room while her gaze darts toward every window, every shadow, every inch of the cottage. It’s something she used to do when we were younger, when Dad was sick.
For a moment, I watch her with a strange sense of distance. I grew up with this woman. I know every expression she’s ever worn, every tone, every layer to her moods. But I’ve never seen her like this—angry and frightened and ashamed all at once.
For the first time in our adult lives, I don’t feel smaller in her presence. I feel steadier. Like the one with solid ground under my feet.
Behind us, Andrea pops up from the floor with a delighted squeal. “Aunt Kat!”
Katherine startles, forcing a smile as Andi runs to her. She hugs her tightly, the tension in her body melting just enough for her shoulders to lower.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she says. “Look at how big you’re getting.”
Andrea beams, already tugging her toward the kitchen to show her the blueberry bowl, the marker drawings, the newest card she’s decorated with hearts and a wobbly bear she claims “looks like Mak.”
“How fitting,” Kat says, shooting me a sideways look.
For a few minutes, we pretend everything is fine.
Kat sits on the couch with Andrea curled under her arm, both of them chatting about school and gardens and the stray cat that keeps lurking near the porch at night. I watch them, grateful for the normalcy, even if it’s fleeting.
But when Andrea’s energy finally fades out, and she dozes off snuggled against her aunt, I know what has to come next.
I lift her gently, carry her to her room, and tuck her beneath the quilt. She mumbles something soft before sinking deeper into sleep.
When I return to the living room, Katherine is perched at the edge of the couch cushion. Her posture is tense, and her eyes are sharp enough to cut glass. “Start talking,” she says.
I sit across from her. The space between us feels both familiar and foreign. “I called you because you’re the only one who already knows who Makari is.Reallyknows. I needed someone who could handle hearing the truth.”
Her mouth twists. “You couldn’t tell Mom?”
“No,” I admit softly. “Not this.”
“And Eric?” she asks, voice dropping to a whisper. “He’s actually?—”
