Page 46 of The Rut in the Road

Taking another swallow of my coffee—my third cup—I quickly updated the inventory spreadsheet using the packing list from the three boxes I’d already unloaded, my eyes continuously skipping down to my phone, checking both the time and my notifications, just in case Raj texted again.

“Violette…”I wasn’t sure what to say.

I’d gone home and changed into jeans, a t-shirt, and a zipper hoodie only a handful of minutes before she’d arrived. She’d come up and immediately dragged me downstairs, grinning and tugging at my hand. When we’d walked out the front doors, she’d stopped in front of a small car, its light blue metallic paintshiny and clean. She’d gestured with both hands, announcing “Ta da!”

And I had no idea how to respond.

My sister pouted. “I think the normal answer is ‘thank you, oh, gorgeous and wonderful sister of mine, for buying me a car.’”

I gaped at her, shocked and also a little horrified. “Youbought me a car?!”

She nodded, still grinning.

“Violette, you can’t just buy me a car!” A car was a ridiculously expensive gift. It wasn’t something you justgavesomeone, especially not someone she’d only known for six months, even if I was her brother.

“Why not?” she asked, pouting a little more. “You don’t have one, but I’ve seen your license. I know youcandrive.” Ward had insisted I learn how, just in case I ever needed to drive him somewhere. It happened often enough that I didn’t have to worry about forgetting how.

“Because… it’s expensive!”Reallyexpensive.

“So? I have oodles of money.”

I grimaced, but refrained from pointing out thatoodlewas not a proper unit of measure. “I don’t want to owe you,” I told her. “And this would make me feel like I have to.”

She frowned, and although I hadn’t really thought we looked that much alike—her hair dark, mine light, her eyes green, mine almost black—the expression on her face was so like the one I’d seen in my own mirror that it was disconcerting. “I owe you myexistence,” she said, her voice forceful. Then the volume dropped, her voice soft. “You saved me. And Mom.” She shifted. “And you got me thisamazingjob with Beyond the Veil,” she continued, then looked up at me through her lashes. “Besides, you’re mybrother.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to buy me things,” I replied, feeling deeply uncomfortable. What I’d done had saved her, butit had been so long ago that it felt like it didn’t matter. And getting her the job had half been so that I didn’t feel as guilty about abandoningmyjob, so it wasn’t really a favor to her. At least not to the point where I deserved a car for it. “Expensive or not.”

“But I want to,” she protested. “And you don’t have a car, so this would make things easier for you. You could drive to work. Or to get groceries. Or to go on dates with Raaaj.” She drew out his name, batting her eyelashes at me.

I didn’t point out that I walked to work and to get groceries, and Raj had a car. Although this would solve the problem we’d encountered when he’d get called while we were out and had to take me home before he could go to work.

And it would let me buy more groceries, and maybe even get a few things in bulk, which would save money, if I could put them in a car instead of having to carry them home.

And it would let me go other places. Do things. Feel like more of an adult.

But it was so expensive.

“It’s still too much,” I told her.

“Youhaveto take it,” she insisted. “Because otherwise I’ll think you don’t love me.”

“Vi—”

“Please, Rayn.” She took one of my hands, squeezing it and swaying back and forth. “Pleeeease.”

I couldn’t think of a way to refuse her. And she was right, it would be really nice to have a car, even if I knew it came with expenses of its own, like gas and insurance. “Fine.” I’d have to think of some way to pay her back for this.

She squealed, then threw her arms around me. I hugged her back. “Yay!” Then she gave me a mischievous grin. “Except now you have to drive me back to Williamsburg. I’ll show you myapartment, and then you can buy me dinner.” She gave me a self-satisfied smirk. “Call it a thank-you, if you like.”

I couldn’t help smiling back at her. “Okay,” I agreed.

Violette’s apartment was…veryher.I’d heard people use the phrase before—that something wasverysomeone. I hadn’t quite understood it before I’d walked into Vi’s apartment, but I did now.

Everything—the chairs, the bedding, the pillows and throw blanket—was jewel-toned. Orange and purple and teal and garnet. The decorations—candles, sculptures, small framed pieces that were mixed media of torn paper and feathers and beads and bones—were quirky and macabre, bits of art and kitch that celebrated life even as they acknowledged the omnipresence of death. I liked the brightness of the colors—probably because I’d spent so much of my life somewhere that had been painted to be just as colorless as the life it had held within its walls.

“I like it,” I told her. I did—for her. Because while I did like the color-scheme, I definitely didn’t want a replica hand of glory on any of my shelves. Or what looked like a fox skull. Or a candle shaped like a human spine covered in glitter.

She grinned at me. “Yeah?”