“And because you’re kind, because you’re kickass and you love and trust Clara enough to take care of my busted ass, you’re the one in prison. Locked in this shithole with me. And that isn’t fair, Emma. I’m the one who fucked up, but you’rethe one paying my price.” I risk opening my eyes, needing to know she heard me.
She swallows, her hands going to her braid, clutching the tie at the bottom before she looks away. “I made a choice, too, Jansen. I helped. There wasn’t a moment when I doubted Clara.” She looks back at me. “She’d do the same for me. Did she ever tell you about last fall, when Bryce was stalking her? She panicked, and for a moment, she thought he’d taken me to get to her. She spent hours looking for me, stalking him right back until she was sure that I wasn’t with him. He was intent on hurtingher,and she was worried aboutme.So, when she called, I answered. I showed up, and I did my damn best to keep you alive. I wouldn’t make a different choice, Jansen, even seeing where we are right now. Even knowing that I’d lose Evie.” Her voice catches, and my chest clenches again, a cough making it worse.
“I’m so sorry about Evie,” I whisper once I get my voice back.
“Me too. I just wish she had listened, let us explain as much as we could. She could have trusted me. I would have trusted her if it had been reversed.” She curls forward, her hands folded in her lap, one wrapped tightly around the other.
“Evie and trust are brittle companions,” I say, a phrase that had come to me over the past two weeks as I pondered my sister and her harsh reaction.
“She’s been harassing my sister, trying to find you,” she whispers. “Sophie is ready to get a restraining order against her.”
“The cops—”
“I know. I told her just not to answer when she knocks. And RJ installed one hell of a security system at the apartment last year, so it’s not like she’s unsafe.” Her blue eyes are watery as she meets my gaze. “Right?”
“Right. Evie’s intense, but she’s not dangerous. And she hates people who break the rules.”
We fall silent, knowing we’ve both ended up being the kind of people Evie can’t stand. I’ve always been that person, but it’s new for Emma.
Needing to feel like I’m not the only fuck-up in the room, I change the subject. “Before this, what was the craziest thing you’ve ever done? Something that was against the rules, but you decided you didn’t care?”
Emma huffs out a laugh, leaning back again, Fluffington yelling his frustrations over not getting his dinner yet as he tries to scramble up my arm toward the can.
“Let’s feed the mini-monster, and I’ll tell you.”
I get to my feet, forcing my body to move smoothly instead of in the pain-filled hobble that feels comfortable, and follow Emma to the kitchen, the start of Fluffington’s meal abandoned on the counter. Handing over the can, I watch her dump it into the dish before setting it on the floor. Then she slumps into one of the folding chairs, the whole setup smuggled out of storage, leftovers from the first few poker games Trips hosted freshman year, before he realized he could make bank with class and mystique added to the event.
“I broke into a house once,” Emma states, tugging free the tie in her hair and fingering her braid apart.
My hair, meanwhile, lies loose around my shoulders. Emma offered to help me braid it, as my chest still twinges whenI try, but I turned her down. That’s for Clara and me. And apparently RJ when I’m half-comatose. I wouldn’t want him to do it again, but I wasn’t able to voice that then, and he was trying to help. So, I can’t blame him for it, not at all.
I’ve got good friends. Amazing ones. Ones who’ve kept me alive and unincarcerated for a whole lot longer than I would have lasted on my own.
“We have more in common than you’ve let on,” I tease, trying not to get caught in another downward spiral.
A grin flickers on her face. “Maybe. How many places haveyoubroken into?”
“I’ve lost count. Not that I ever kept count to begin with.”
Emma laughs. “That was my one and only time breaking and entering. It was a dare. There was this old creepy house on the edge of town, and we never saw anybody come in or out, but there were shadows in the windows at night, so we all knew somebody had to live there. Usually, the dare was to run up and touch the front door, or ring the doorbell, but because I had a reputation for never chickening out, my friends did their worst.”
“They sound fun.”
“They are. We still hang out when I go home over breaks.” Her smile falters as she realizes she probably won’t get to see them until January. “Anyway, it was way after midnight, and all the lights were out except for a dim one upstairs. A window in the back was unlocked, so I pushed it open and climbed right in, my friends freaking out just past the fence line. Once I was in there, though, I stumbled over like, seven cats, and one of them zipped right on out the open window.”
“Oh no!”
“Oh yes. A perfect void cat with yellow eyes. I leaped right back out after him, closing the window as quickly and quietly as I could so I didn’t lose any more of the poor person’s cats. Then, my friends and I spent the next forty minutes with our phone flashlights on, searching the yard for the thing. Let’s just say the giggle fits were done for the night.”
I chuckle, imagining the panic they probably felt as teens, Emma having told me before that she was part of the nerd herd at her school. They weren’t used to getting into trouble, so they must have been terrified.
“My friend finally found him, half up a tree, watching us like we were the best entertainment he’d had all week, and once I’d coaxed him down, when I went back to the window, all the cats were crowded there, just as intrigued as their friend. I had to ring the doorbell of the place over and over again, even though it was the middle of the night, until the mysterious owner finally answered the door.”
“Who was it?”
“A little old lady with terrible health, whose son drove in once a month to bring groceries to her. She was grateful to have her cat back, albeit confused about how he’d gotten out.”
I try a real laugh, quickly realizing that I’m not healed enough for that, my coughing gasps ruining the story. “You’re a regular criminal, Emma Johnson.”
