Page 105 of A Lethal Game of Trust

Not much had changed since she left for university, or probably last had him in this room. The first time I’d come back off tour, it had been weird for her and Issy to be away. Is came back to see me for a while. Leonie went further north on an internship. Today, she’d only come in quickly, puttingdown her little suitcase and skipping to see my mum.

Her duvet was still a light purple, pom-pom bunting hanging around the edges of the ceiling. Her little reading corner looked as if she had just briefly left it.

Before she could lose herself to drugs, she used to lose herself in stories.

Often on our drives out to the cove, she would tell me about the twists and turns of the latest book she was reading. She liked thrillers, books with mystery and deception. Sometimes, the plots were so complicated I just nodded along, enjoying how invested she was.

I placed the box with her dress on her bed and snuck out.

The next box I grabbed was far heavier. In the kitchen, I grinned at my sister, still in her pyjamas surrounded by wrapping paper. She jumped down from the stool and came to my side, forcing me into a tight squeeze the moment the box was on the counter.

“Scale of one to ten, how bad?”

“Twelve,” I exaggerated with confidence, puffing out my chest. “The best worst yet.”

She grinned, hands in balls of exhilarated energy, before peeling back the box lid and facing her horrific cake.

A three-year-old could have made it better.

“It’s awful!” she cried joyfully as Mum looked over her shoulder.

“This tradition of yours,” she sighed. “I hope when you have children, you’ll hire a baker. You two can’t be trusted.”

As Issy snapped a picture of it on her phone, I watched Leo on her stool, looking over cautiously, her gaze never reaching me. Last night, we had only cuddled. This morning, she had reassured me multiple times of her plan with Sam.

I’d needed it. Seething wasn’t the word.

Imagining him even thinking he had a chance made my fingers itch for my gun.

When I got her text last night, I knew she had the same weakness for me as I had for her. We’d get through it.

“This year, I think you’re going to be the winner,” Mum said, peering down at the monstrous cake. “This is truly horrifying.”

“I had some help this year,” I said, nodding Leonie’s way. “Leo had some great ideas.”

Mum whipped around to face her. “You two really are friends again.”

“The bestest,” I said.

Leonie smiled, amused and lied, “I did it for Issy.”

“Well, you’ll have to help me with Dom’s,” Issy said, looking down at her phone. Mine chimed and Leonie’s lit up as we both received the same Instagram notification. Neither of us had to look at it to know it was the birthday girl putting her cake on her story. When it was my birthday, she would do a poll to her 120k followers, asking which was the worst.

Mum came to my side and patted my shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Have you had anything to eat? I can knock up some more pancakes.”

“Leonie made me buy the whole chocolate shelf in the petrol station, so if anything, I have eaten too much,” I told her.

And my mum’s smile grew even bigger.

“What?” I asked her.

“Nothing,” she said with a smirk and turned to Issy. “Go and get dressed. Cecilia will be here in the next hour.”

Cecilia, Mum’s private beautician.

Dad walked in then and Issy rushed to him. There was noway this was the first time he had seen her, but my sister was always a sucker for her birthday. It was like she had downed a factory’s worth of additives.

Dad stroked Issy’s hair and peered over at the cake.