Did she keep it, ready to throw it out at a later date to make sure he wouldn't see it?
Is trash day tomorrow? It'd be a good time, after the cleaner has been. Refresh the fresh trash can by taking out the trash.
To me, it doesn't make the best sense, but to a teen, it might.
Or she put it in her room and forgot it.
Or she was trying to work out the right time to coincide with both trash day and the cleaner.
Who knows what a fifteen-year-old might be thinking?
Suddenly, I swallow.
I threw it in the bathroom trash, didn't I?
What if she's?—
The moment the thought comes, I dismiss it.
No way is she pregnant. I don't even think she's had sex yet. She certainly spoke to me like an innocent.
And I think Lyndall would tell me.
So, is she taking the heat for me?
Did she sneak it out of the trash and keep hold of it?
Or worse, she forgot it completely, and the cleaner threw it out.
A good cleaner doesn't ever comment on what they find or anything inside the house. They clean, throw out, put away, and keep their mouths shut. Even I know that.
And in the end, it doesn't matter.
Enzo knows about the test.
That's what matters.
I drag in a shaky breath. "Calm down, Enzo."
The anger takes on a vicious hue. "You knew?"
"What?"
"About the fucking test."
"Yes, but?—"
"You fucking knew my sister was knocked up, and you didn't tell me?"
I try to stay calm. Try to keep the shake from my voice. "Lyndall's not pregnant. Think about it."
The rage is infused in his tone. "There's nothing to fucking think about. Fuck this noise about me saving thatno-good, little prick, Luke. I'm going to kill him, rip him apart with my bare hands, stomp him into nothing. If he thinks he can put his dick near her and get away with it, then he can eat that dick once I rip it from his no-good body."
I try to reach for him, but he pulls away and opens what looks like a drawer to reveal a safe. He punches in numbers and presses his thumb against it.
It opens.
Then he pulls out a gun. Sleek, black, big.
