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“Puritan,” she tosses back gleefully. “Why are you calling? I know it’s not to check up on me.”

“Are you implying I don’t care?”

She remains quiet and I swear I can hear that child of hers sucking noisily and God damn, I cannottakeit. I almost end the call right there, but I’m too curious about Sinclair Miller to do it.

“I wanted to ask you if you remembered someone from highschool,” I start and she interrupts me because truly, Iris is the most impatient person I know.

“I remembereveryonefrom high school. You know this. Who are you asking about?”

“Her name is Sinclair Miller.” The silence that greets me is ice cold. I don’t even hear the baby feeding any longer and I feel like I just mentioned someone that is supposed to be dead. “Do you remember her?”

“Oh, I definitely do. Are you telling me that you don’t?” She sounds shocked. Even…amused?

“No.” I would remember a dark-haired beauty with golden eyes and a body that was meant to be worshiped like Sinclair. And that name. Sinclair. Sin. She is sin personified and how did I let her slip by me in the halls of Lancaster Prep without noticing? Was I that oblivious? “Was she in your class?”

No, of course she wasn’t. Sinclair is only eighteen. Unless she was lying to me. But why would she lie and say she was younger than she is? That makes no sense.

“She wasn’t. But August. She was…oh God, how do I say this? You know her.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you heartless jackass, you do. She was the girl you tormented your senior year. The flat-chested girl with the braces.” Iris makes a disapproving sound. “You were so awful to her. I tried to make you stop. I could see how much your words upset her, but you didn’t even care. I don’t know why you were so fixated on her. You were such a mean fucker back in high school.”

“I’m still a mean fucker,” I remind her.

A sigh leaves my sister and the baby makes a growling noise. That kid is savage. “I can’t believe you don’t remember her. You made it a point to torment her daily for the entirety of your senior year. Some of your shitty friends tried to keep it up after you graduated, but they eventually gave up because youwere the true ringleader. Hopefully she had a more peaceful high school existence once that stopped.”

It comes back to me slowly. At the words flat-chested and braces. Sinclair Miller. I never knew her name, or if I did, I promptly forgot. I remember the first day of school and how she stared at me. The slight fear on her face with the defiant curl to her upper lip. Pathetic.

Intriguing.

I singled her out and targeted her because it was fun and she always had such a visceral reaction to my taunts. All of my friends thought I was hilarious anytime I provoked her. I made her life miserable and enjoyed every single second of it. Looks-wise, she wasn’t much then but I saw the potential. Sort of.

Things change. Flat-chested girls grow up and become gorgeous. Then get shitfaced with you and leave rude lipstick messages on your mirror.

“Did you run into her on campus? Did she want to lop your head off with a machete? Because that’s what I’d want to do if I were her,” Iris says with a laugh.

“I—yes. I ran into her.” My gaze returns to the message written on my mirror with lipstick. Yolanda’s lipstick. Our housemother is elegantly beautiful, but she’s fucking forty. I have zero interest in her and wonder sometimes why she puts up with us. But I also like how level-headed and calm she is, and she’s needed in this house. Her obsession with that damn lipstick she wears probably sent Sinclair into a fit when she saw it.

Didn’t help that I rambled about the woman I fucked a couple of nights ago. The one who I can’t remember? Just like I don’t recall Sinclair either?

Hell. She must think I’m an absolute monster.

“And did she slap you? I’m sure she’s been waiting for a moment like that for years.” Iris’s voice is full of relish. Like she can envision Sinclair slapping the shit out of me in public. Iwon’t tell her about the lipstick throwing. My sister would eat that up.

“No, she didn’t slap me.” I sound dazed and confused. Iamdazed and confused. Seriously, how could she go from being an awkward, flat-chested freshman in high school to the beautiful woman that she is now? And how could she stand being in my presence knowing what I’d done to her?

“Where did you run into her anyway? Was it at a party? God, sometimes I feel like I’ve missed out on everything.” She starts cooing and I can tell she’s not talking to me anymore. She’s speaking to the nightmare that is Astrid. And she’s only a nightmare because she’s a defenseless little being who cries and eats and shits all the time. “But then I wouldn’t have you my little sunshine dollop of deliciousness now, would I? And how could I ever let go of your father and his magical dick?”

“Jesus, Iris.” I close my eyes, holding my phone in a death grip, pissed that she’d say something like that. “I don’t need to hear about Brooks and his dick.”

“It’s a good one though, Augie. I needed that reminder because every once in a while, I get a little itch. Like maybe I’m missing out on something better in life. But what’s better than a man who loves you and making a family with him?”

“It would’ve been better if you waited about ten years,” I tell her, but she just laughs.

“No regrets, August. That’s my motto and I stand by it. Don’t I, baby? Oh yes, I do. Yes, I do.”

I hear cooing noises and can tell they’re coming from my niece. Anyone else would think it’s sweet. I find it a complete distraction.