Page 155 of Bone Deep
Carl doesn't hesitate. “Without question.”
My head pops up when I sense somewhere nearby. I glance up, and Harper is standing on the other side of the kitchen island. Watching me. One eyebrow raised.
Fuck.
I immediately school my expression. “Just send everything over to me, Carl.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.” I end the call.
Harper crosses her arms. Waiting.
“Sorry.” I slip my phone into my pocket. “Something I'm working on for the agency.” Her expression doesn't change. “Athlete got himself into a little hot water.”
The look she gives me says she believes approximately none of that. Not even a little.
I sigh, then grab the wine bottle. “Shall we?”
Harper smiles. The kind of smile that says she's choosing not to call me on my bullshit. For now.
Together we shuffle back into the living room. I refill glasses. Or at least attempt to. “I'm only doing half a glass.” The sisters immediately look suspicious. “I have to function tomorrow.” I set the bottle down. “Anthony has me going to some fundraiser tomorrow night.”
The girls exchange a glance that immediately makes me nervous.
“What's it for?” Harper asks.
I shrug. “No idea.” I take a sip. “He just told me I had to be at the Hyatt at seven sharp.”
Cricket nods slowly. “And?”
“And he told me to dress fashionably.”
Both women stare.
I scoff. “Me.”
More staring.
“He toldmeto dress fashionably.”
Then I look down. At Ryan's I LOVE MY KITTY hoodie.
Silence.
The sisters follow my gaze. And suddenly we're all laughing again.
The next hour passes in a blur. More stories. More wine. More pictures. Somewhere along the way the conversation turns serious. The girls tell me things. Things Ryan never would. About the pressure. The expectations. The impossible standards. The endless criticism. The way their father weaponized religion. The way he made Ryan responsible for carrying the family image. The way nothing Ryan did was ever enough.
By the time they're finished, all three of us are furious. Harper is openly seething. Cricket isn't much better. They've already decided they're staying through the holidays. Neither wants anything to do with their parents. Apparently, Harper texted their mother earlier—and absolutely unloaded on her.
By eleven o'clock, though, I'm running on fumes. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. Everything hurts.
I call them a car. The sisters both insist on hugging me before they leave. Not normal hugs. Bone-crushing hugs.
“Goodnight, brother,” Harper says.
I roll my eyes. But I hug her tighter.
