“Oh, yes,” she says. “We’re not skipping over that.”
“Skipping over what?” Matty asks.
She snorts. “Did you not see her face at dinner when Caison brought up his name?”
“What face?” I ask.
“The one that looked like you wanted to commit a felony.”
I glare at her. “You’re dramatic.”
“I’m observant,” she counters. “It’s the same face you made at Matty’s engagement party.”
That stops me, and I feel my spine go stick straight.
Matty looks confused. “What reaction?”
Damn it.
Charli points at me. “That one. Right there. Like you hate him, but more than that, like you wanna rip him to shreds with your bare hands.”
I shift on the swing, wood biting into my thighs. “I don’t hate him.”
“That,” Charli says sweetly, “is a lie.”
“I don’t. I just don’t like him.”
“Viscerally,” she adds. “Which feels like more thandon’t like.”
Matty studies me, curiosity sharpening her expression. “I didn’t notice anything at the party.”
“Because you were busy being the princess in Caison Galloway’s fairy tale,” Charli says gently. “The rest of us noticed.”
I take another drink, wishing the wine were stronger.
Charli sips hers, and her keen eyes stay on me.
“Harleigh knows,” Charli says.
My stomach drops. “Knows what?”
“She told me, and I quote, ‘Shelby has every right to walk over and punch him square in the nuts.’”
Matty blinks. “That’s … specific.”
“And yet,” Charli continues, “she refused to elaborate.”
Matty turns to me, hurt flickering across her face. “Why does Harleigh know and we don’t?”
I open my mouth, then close it. Old instincts kick in. Deflect. Minimize. Move on.
“It’s nothing,” I say.
“That’s another lie,” Charli says.
Matty’s voice is quieter. “I don’t like being out of the loop, Shell. You guys are always keeping secrets from me. Spill.”
The guilt hits hard. The truth is, we’ve always told each other everything. The three younger sisters, braided together tight. And Matty, half in, half out.
