Page 41 of Reckless

‘She forgot to mention the part where quiet people communicate volumes.’

Something moves at the corner of his mouth, and she catches it. Points at it. ‘There. That’s what she means. That thing you do.’

He straightens slightly, not to deny it exactly, but in the way of someone readjusting. ‘I don’t know what you’re referring to.’

Piper grins, full and uncontained. ‘Yes, you do.’ She looks back at me, signing fast enough now that he won’t catch all of it. ‘I like him. Don’t tell him yet. It’ll go to his head.’

I press my lips together.

“He can see you signing,” I say out loud.

She shrugs, unbothered. ‘Then he can work on that in week twelve.’

Ghost gives Piper one last nod. With no speech, explanation, or waiting around for someone to tell him he’d done something extraordinary, he slips the toothpick back between his teeth, turns on his heel, and heads back toward the glow of his monitors.

Like learning another language because my sister was coming to Vegas was the most ordinary thing in the world.

I don’t know what to do with that.

Deek chooses that exact moment to wander over, which isn’t a coincidence. He’s been waiting for an audience. “Right,” he says, stopping in front of Piper and making a genuine effort to keep himself where she can see his face. “Settle something for me.”

Piper nods.

“Soup…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Meal… or warm beverage?”

Piper turns to him with absolute seriousness. She signs while she speaks, “That is a question of profound philosophical importance, and I will not be rushed.”

Deek points at her. “I knew I was gonna like you!”

Bear, somewhere behind him, says, “Soup is a meal, Deek. We do this every damn week!”

“We do this every week because you keep being wrong about it, Dad!”

The room tips back into its natural chaos, and Piper steps into it like she was always meant to be here, which maybe she was, and maybe I should have seen sooner. Marley appears at her side with a coffee and offers her a tour. Koa is already setting up a stool at the bar, and for one long, warm, impossible minute, I stand in the middle of it all and let myself feel it.

My sister is here.

And I almost stay in it—almost.

Until my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I don’t look at it. Not yet. I stay present for another breath, watching Piper’s hands moving through the air, watching the room absorb her the way this club absorbs everyone it decides to keep. Then I excuse myself, quietly, with a smile that costs nothing because I’ve had years of practice. I slip down the hall and into the bathroom and turn the lock.

I look at my phone.

It’s a number I don’t recognize.

I already know what this is.

The message is short, which makes it worse. Short means whoever it is has narrowed it down to what they need to say. They’re past the stage of making broad warnings.

Unknown Number: You have twelve families on file. We have copies of your documentation. Walk away from the group home inquiry by the end of the month, or those families become unfindable. All of them. Don’t make them pay for your choices.

Tick tock, Sage!

I read it twice, my hands staying steady against the paper. My brain, on the other hand, has decided today is an excellent day to stop cooperating.

The investigation.