“I guess.”
“What happened?”
“Does it matter?” Raine gave her a bitter stare. “You’ll just try to talk me out of it because Uncle Chris told you to. Suck up.”
Jane knew this pattern. Raine’s go-to when cornered or upset was to lash out.
I will not respond in kind. I’m the calm, mature one here. She needs advice, not judgement. Or mocking. No mocking.But what came out of Jane’s mouth was, “Stop being a baby and tell me what happened. I know you’re having issues blindly following orders. But that was never your problem. You only do what you want to do.”
That was obviously the wrong thing to say because Raine straightened and threw her half-empty yogurt container at the refrigerator.
Pink yogurt splatted and glopped down the stainless-steel door.
“Ido notdo what I want to do.”
“Raine, what’s going on?” Jane tried not to sound tired of her cousin’s antics, but Raine’sconstantneed to be talked off the ledge grated on Jane’s nerves.
Raine glared. “Back off.”
“Great work thinking things through, as usual.”
“You missed my birthday.”
Instant remorse filled her. “Sorry, but I?—”
“And you missed Mom’s celebration.” The annual trip to the cemetery where Cleo North lay buried.
Jane winced. “I’m really sorry about that, but in my defense, I was getting shot at.”
“You sure do know how to make friends, don’t you?”
“I’m sincerely sorry about missing Aunt Cleo and your birthday.”
Raine sniffed. Not one for tears, she gave off more of a moody sense of frustration. “You owe me a gift.”
“I do. But none of that explains why you would leave an organization you love. I know you’ve had a rough time with some classified assignments. Are you feeling guilt? Regret?” She paused before adding, “Shame?”
Raine’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes blazed. “We can’t all be perfect little go-getters! You got suspended from your stupid job and you’re still trucking around like a happy little camper. Need me to shine your boots, Special Agent Moron? Sure. Need me to file some papers? To look through spreadsheets and mine data for you while my career swirls down the toilet? Aye, aye, Sir.” Raine snapped off a violent salute.
Jane counted to ten in her head, determined not to engage. “So it’s shame. What did you do?”
“You have no idea what it’s like to make life and death decisions you can’t take back.”
“You’re right,” Jane said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. “I totally couldn’t have shot the guy who shot at me, or punched him in the throat, or asked Joe to snipe my jerk of a boss because he benched me. This entire family is one lucky charm away from being a fruit loop, but we sift through our feelings, seek balance through careful consideration, and make the best choices we can.”
“First, you’re mixing your cereals.” Raine gave a harsh laugh. “I love it. A psychology degree you did nothing with and you’restilltrying to give advice. You’re pathetic. Life isn’t black and white, genius. Live a little and you’ll see it’s all about shades of gray.”
“Just because I’m not some emotionally unregulatedpsycho” —she tossed in the Uncle Chris reference because it would further annoy Raine— “who flies off the handle at every turn doesn’t mean I don’t know what life is. Some of us prefer to be calm, centered, and intelligent versus, ‘Hey, I have a feeling about this. Let’s go bomb something.’”
“I have a feeling I’d like to share with you, you sanctimonious shrew.” Raine took an angry step in her direction. But before she could launch herself at Jane, Joe was there, scooping her into his arms and walking away with her while she ranted, “You’re dead. So dead,PainCannon!”
Hal slid into the kitchen and glanced at Joe carrying away a squirming Raine. “She still using that old insult? The one she used when she was fourteen?”
“She’s been regressing. I think she forgot it used to be Plain Jane Cannon. Now it’s Pain Jane. Or Pain Cannon? I think she’s confused.” And thirty-three years old acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum, but that was beside the point.
“She’s stressed. Ignore her.”
“Oh, like you two did? Cowards.”
