“Yes,” she says, smiling faintly.“She figured it out, and she promised she wouldn’t tell Zane.”
I lean back slightly, letting that information settle.
“That’s good,” I say.
“That’s temporary,” she replies immediately.
“Yes,” I agree.
Because we both know exactly what she means.
“We have to tell him,” she continues after a second. Her tone shifts slightly into something more serious.
“I know.”
“I just don’t know how.”
“Same,” I admit.
“Or when.”
“Same.”
She turns toward me a little more fully, studying my face like she’s trying to decide whether I’m as nervous about that conversation as she is.
“You’re not scared?” she asks.
“I’m terrified,” I answer honestly.
She laughs softly at that.
“That makes me feel better.”
“He’s my best friend,” I explain.“And you’re his sister. There’s no version of this conversation where he immediately says‘great, love that for you guys.’”
“He might,” she says, though she doesn’t sound convinced.
“He won’t,” I reply.
She smiles.
“You’re probably right.”
She tucks one leg underneath herself on the couch like she’s settling. She looks like she isn’t preparing to leave anytime soon, which makes the moment feel less temporary in a way I wasn’t expecting.
“I don’t want him to feel like we hid it from him,” she says quietly.
“We didn’t,” I tell her.“We just didn’t tell him yet.”
“That sounds like hiding.”
“That sounds like timing,” I counter.
She studies me for a second before laughing softly.
“That’s a very hockey-player answer.”
“I am a hockey player.”
