"So, whatdidyou mean?"
"I mean, why doyoucare? People say stuff all the time."
The sentiment was so cold, I almost shivered. "Because she's my sister, that's why."
"Yeah, well…family's just a word." His voice hardened. "It doesn't guarantee anything."
Part of me got it,reallygot it. After all, my own mom had spent the last few years living down to my worst expectations, especially when it came to my sister. But unlike Ryder, I couldn't brush it off so easily. "It's not that simple," I told him. "And maybe thereshouldbe a guarantee."
"Yeah, along with money from the tooth fairy, too." He gave me a look. "You wanna guaranteethat?"
"No." I bit back a sigh. "I'm notrelatedto the tooth fairy." But Iwasrelated to a twisted tooth-fairy in reverse, meaning my mom, who'd plucked money from under Delaney's pillow and transferred it to me.
For rent.
Once Delaney found out – assuming she hadn't already – she'd probably never speak to me again if shealsolearned I'd usedhermeager funds while dating a guy with more money than Midas.
Ryder said, "Yeah. Me neither. That's the point."
I was so lost in my own thoughts, it took me a moment to catch his meaning. "So youaremad."
"Do I look it?"
It felt like a loaded question, and I wasn't sure how to respond. During the past minute or so, his expression had gone completely unreadable. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn't letting it show. Finally, I confessed, "Actually, I can't tell." I squinted at his face. "Maybe a little."
He looked away, watching as a horse-drawn carriage clomped past, carrying four people – an older couple on one side and a younger couple on the other. Both couples were snuggled nice and tight. And for some reason, that just made everything worse.
When Ryder returned his attention to me, his mouth had tightened. "So back to your sister. You were getting to a point?"
Just then, Skip burst out of the rear door like the coffee shophadcaught fire. When he spotted me, he stopped short before marching closer to say, "Hey! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"
"I would've," I said. "But you were asleep."
"But that's notmyfault," he whined. "My finger's killing me." And then, as if to prove it, he lifted his hand and brandished the finger like a weapon – first at me, and then at Ryder.
Unfortunately, it was the middle one, which made the gesture incredibly insulting, especially with the finger-brace that made the obscene salute look twice as big.
Ryder gave him a look. "You should put that thing away before you hurt someone." And yet, something in his tone suggested that Skip would be the one getting hurt if he didn't cool it.
Skip dropped the hand and turned to me with a wounded little sniff. "And you didn't even ask how I hurt it."
"I didn'thaveto ask," I said. "You told me you hurt it in the storm."
"Yeah, but you could've asked for details." He looked to Ryder and grumbled, "I lost my favorite umbrella, too."
At this, Ryder grew very still. Slowly, he gritted out, "What color?"
Skip frowned. "You mean my umbrella? It was red – and extra-big, too."
Ryder prowled closer to say, "That thing almost killed her."
From the sidelines, I blurted out, "It did not." When Ryder shot me a look, I mumbled, "I just mean…I'm standing here breathing, aren't I?"
Skip perked up. "So you saw my umbrella?"
I didn't even know who he was asking. But Ryder looked more likely to strangle him than answer, so I replied, "Yes, actually. It was blowing across the street."
Skip frowned. "And you didn't grab it?"
