Page 63 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

LEARNING ABOUT HYPOCRISY

Beckett

Part of living in a small town means that you can’t escape gossip. No matter how hard you try, the truth—or some warped version of it anyway—always finds its way back to you. If you don’t have good people on your side, things can get a bit tricky.

Angelina: We need to meet. Like ASAP.

Tony: I Have Class Until 3.

Angelina: I’m done after lunch.

Me: Pick you two up at 3.30.

Tony can you wait for Ang to come out?

Tony: Sure.

I’ll Get Some Work Done In The Meantime.

After so much shit being said about Lucia, it’s starting to become easy to forget who she really was.

It’s how Angelina, Antony, and I find ourselves rummaging through Lucia’s things together, looking for comfort in each other, and pretending we’re not suffocating under the weight of hating everyone around us.

“I mean, can you believe her?” Angelina huffs, practically attacking my sister’s closet as she tries to reorganize her things. A beach hat falls to the ground, landing on her feet, and she kicks at it.

“No, I cannot,” I mumble back.

She ignores me entirely, “Alice put her hands on me like I’m some kind of object she can just pick up and put back down. Who the hell does she think she is?”

“Right,” Antony agrees carefully, throwing me a desperate look. “But do we have to hear this speech all over again?”

“She thinks she’s the new Lucia.”

“Troca o disco, Angelina.”

“Ah, Tony. Vá se foder!” she snaps right back, angrily folding a shirt now. “I am allowed to complain, okay? This is the free complaints room! If you want to be all happy-go-lucky, then you go do that somewhere else!”

“Okay, okay. No fighting between my two stubborn children.” Now that the light bulb was fixed, the room is back to life, fully functional again. “I like having you both here a lot better when you get along.”

Angelina mutters random curses as she grabs some kind of box and yanks it out of Lucia’s closet. She flips it open aggressively; meanwhile, I turn to Antony, motioning for my toolbox.

Lucia’s bedside drawers won’t fully close, and she always asked me to fix it before, but I never did. I’m doing it now as a way to soothe my consciousness.

If there’s an afterlife up there, maybe she’s watching, rolling her eyes at me, and cursing my name by yelling, Fucking finally .

“Can you give me the…” I start, hoping to ask him to hand me a smaller nail, but I’m interrupted by a loud sound coming from the other side of the room.

“No way!” the tall girl gasps. “I found it! I finally found it!”

“What did you find?” Antony asks as he hands me the tools.

Angelina makes a tiny jump, her eyes widening as she clutches some yellow-paged book to her chest.

“Her diary!” she spins around, holding it up in the air like it’s a winning lottery ticket.

I trail off. “What in the…”

“Can I keep it? Beckett, I don’t want anything else! Anything at all! Please, please, please!” Angelina cracks it open, reading the first page out loud. “This diary belongs to LucilleElodie Evans.”

I shrug, assuming the diary must be all about boys, dating, and gossip. I have no interest in that. If anything, my sister’s personal life belongs in the hands of her most trusted friend, and that’s exactly who Angelina was.

“You can keep it. I don’t mind,” I thank Antony silently, walking up to Lucia’s bedside table and starting to empty it out. “Anything interesting you want to know about her?” I joke, finding it funny that she’s so enthusiastic about unveiling my sister’s innermost secrets.

“Oh my God, no! I don’t care about the gossip. It’s really not about that.”

Angelina sits on the floor, legs crossed. Her voice is quiet, and when I spare her a glance, I see hints of happy tears at the corners of her eyes.

“I dropped my phone in the toilet back at the hospital. My cloud backup wasn’t working right. I lost most of our conversations,” she swallows hard, the words weighing on her. “There’s barely anything left of it. I mean, I even lost our pictures together. The ones we took for my birthday?”

“I still have them on mine.” I throw her a quick glance. “I can send them to you.”

Her hands tighten around the diary. “I’d really like that, thanks. But now I also have this. It’s more than just a voice in my head. It’s her. This is Lucia.”

Antony goes still, watching her with some kind of heartbroken look in his face. I don’t even have to check the mirror to know my face probably looks the same right now.

“I know it’s all stupid, but I feel so relieved,” Angelina lets out a shaky breath, a single tear trailing down her cheek. “This is everything to me.”

“She used to write everything down, right?” I pick up the drill and check to see if the driving tool is properly attached. “Maybe reading will help you.”

“Oh, definitely,” the brown-haired girl grins. “I can’t wait to see what she has to say about all the dumb shit we did together.”

“God.” Antony blinks rapidly, fighting tears himself. “Jesus, you’re going to make me cry, woman.”

Out of all of us, Tony is the biggest crier.

He cries at the movies, at weddings, and when a really good song starts to play on the radio. My sister thought it was funny that someone who looks so grumpy and tough like he does could turn out to be so incredibly sensitive.

Angelina drops the diary on the floor, opening her arms to both of us. “Group hug, please?”

It takes us less than a second for us to move. Antony crashes into her, and I crash into them. Our arms wrap around each other in a tight hug.

Pepé watches us from the bed, rolling his judgmental little eyes at us. He doesn’t know any better, with his paws and his fur, but group hugs are good for the soul.

I promptly flip him off.

***

Antony leaves after a while, but Angelina stays.

I get the feeling that she doesn’t want to leave me alone after the day we’ve just had. It’s a nice gesture, and I really appreciate her trying to be a good friend to me, but I don’t think she needs to worry about that.

I’m really doing fine, all things considered, even though I’m still not anywhere near figuring out why Lucia decided to drink and drive that night.

Before I can tell her to go home, she drops her body next to mine on the couch, stretching her long legs over the coffee table.

“I gave your neighbor another shot,” she announces with a tight smile.

I promptly shoot her a quick glance, feeling surprised to learn that she took my advice. “And?”

“She’s still dating the Monteiro dumbass,” she deadpans.

“Okay,” I answer softly, crossing my arms over my chest. “Is that really a problem to you?”

Angelina rolls her eyes. “Of course, it is. I could never be friends with someone who is going out with the guy who hurt me, Beckett. That’s precisely the worst friend you could ever pick for yourself.”

Her words sting.

Cassandra is Nathaniel’s sister.

And sure, his prank was probably just that—a prank. But it still hurts my feelings. It involved someone I love and care about. And here I am, thinking about her at every twist and turn, defending her even.

What are the chances she takes his side instead of mine now that things are awkward?

I’d take Lucia’s side any day, no matter what.

Would Cassandra do the same for him?

Well, in some ways, she already has.

“I don’t get why you care about her so much. What is it about her?” Angelina asks, glancing at me sideways. “Is it because she took care of Pepé? Or is there something more you’re just not telling me about?”

“Something more?” I let out a shaky breath, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. “Like what?”

“Like a crush?” she jokes, testing the waters. “Cassandra’s a pretty girl. Actually, she’s just your type. I wouldn’t put it above you to feel a little something, you know?”

I crack one eye open, unimpressed. “My type?”

“Troubled.” The brunette nudges me with her elbow, and I sigh. “What? You can see it in her eyes. It’s literally all over her face, too. She’s a problem.”

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

“Okay. Tell me what happened at the fundraiser, then.” Angelina waits for me to say something, anything at all, but I stay quiet. She hums knowingly. “Why isn’t she taking care of Pepé anymore when you’re not around? Why don’t you text her now and tell her to come hang out with us?”

“Because you two aren’t friends,” I point out the obvious.

Angelina tilts her head. “So, if I wasn’t here tonight, you’d have no problem calling her?”

“We haven’t been talking much lately.” I grimace. “I punched her brother.”

This seems to get Angelina’s attention.

She frowns, staring at me like she can’t believe what I just told her. “You punched Nathaniel Rivera?”

Her voice shows hints of her being thoroughly impressed.

“Why?”

“Because.” I run a hand down my face. “I got a new commission at the shop, and it was meant to be this jewelry box with engravings. But when I started working on it, I realized that the sketches our client sent looked a lot like Lucia’s drawings.”

Angelina’s face changes. She freezes a little, as if remembering something. The recognition fades from her gaze and turns into confusion.

“Nathaniel Rivera had one of Lucia’s sketches?”

I nod, unsure of what else to say.

“At first, I thought Lucia had given them to Cassandra.”

“Right.”

“But then I realized she didn’t even know about Well mentoring me.” I press my hands over my thighs, feeling uncomfortable. “When I confronted Nathaniel about it, he said, uh, he said some things I didn’t like to hear.”

“Oh.” Angelina sighs once. Then, more softly. “ Oh .”

“What?”

“I just.” She pauses. “It’s probably nothing, but I did catch Lucia and Nathaniel talking to each other a couple of times, you know?”

I frown. “When?”

“At parties, mostly.” She wets her lips, thoughtful. “It wasn’t all that long ago, actually. Lucia really couldn’t stand his ass. He tried to talk to me, but she told him to leave.”

I sit up straighter. “He tried to talk to you?”

“Yeah, I was feeling upset about something stupid,” she sighs while saying. “I think Nathaniel was asking me why when she pulled me out of that conversation. I thought it was weird, but she promised it wasn’t anything important.”

“Nathaniel is eight years older than you. Why the fuck was he at your parties?”

“It was a college party.” Angelina blushes awkwardly. “Lucia knew a guy.”

“Ugh, you two are impossible.”

“Sorry.”

“But she wouldn’t have given him her sketches, right?”

“Never,” she promises. “Lucia wouldn’t have given me her sketches, and I was her best friend.” Angelina attempts to laugh it off, but I see how pale she’s become. “Do you think he stole it from her somehow?”

“Maybe.” I shrug my shoulders, feeling uncertain. “Or maybe there are some things about Lucia we both don’t know about.”

“Like what?” Angelina asks, sounding alarmed. “Do you… Do you think they were actually close? No way!”

I hesitate, “I don’t know, just a feeling. But I’m thinking it didn’t make any sense for him to pull a prank on me, Angie.”

She shifts uncomfortably, processing the information.

I shake my head, feeling deep in my bones that there’s more to the story. My eyes lock with hers before I try to explain my point.

“The guy is fucking nuts,” I tell her, thinking about what happened before our fight. “Cassandra and I were dancing together at the party, and she completely freaked out at the idea of him thinking we were together.”

“Together, as in…” Angelina trails off.

“As in, dating each other.” I pause, looking at the bigger picture to see if I’m wrong. Nope. Still think I’m right. “I mean, isn’t that so weird?”

It’s a possibility I’m entertaining now, but one I don’t like to think about very much.

If Nathaniel Rivera somehow got close enough to my sister that she even began to trust him with something as intimate as her passion for art, it must mean that he would’ve been able to hurt her right under my nose.

I can’t ever confront him about it, though.

Someone like him will always deny and deny, even if you have proof that they’ve done something wrong.

“If you ever figure something out, you’ll tell me, right?” Angelina asks, voice distant.

“Of course,” I answer automatically, but I’m not actually certain if I should do that. Her recovery is still fragile. I can’t mess things up for her again. “I’m not going to leave you in the dark about Lou.”

She studies my face, then nods slowly, believing in me. “Okay. Neither will I.”

I reach out, intertwining our pinkies together.

“If I remember something…” she trails off. “You’re the first number I’m calling, alright?”

I answer softly, promising to do the same.

“Alright.”

Angelina exhales, her eyes drifting back and forth between the front door and me. Pepé trots towards the window and tries to open it with his paw.

“You know, it’s funny. All this trying to convince me to talk to your neighbor, but you won’t do it yourself.” She glances at me now; her brown eyes are shining with amusement. “You should really go talk to Cassandra.”

I stiffen. “What?”

“Hear me out.” She leans forward, speaking more quietly. “Clearly, there’s something between you two, or you wouldn’t bother trying to defend her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Angelina challenges me, sounding more confused now. “You obviously care about her. She lives next door to you. What’s there to lose?”

Except she doesn’t know the entire story. She doesn’t know what Nathaniel said or how Cassandra reacted. And I want to reach out, I really do, but I feel a little awkward about it, too.

“You can’t tell me to be more understanding when you won’t give her a second chance yourself.”

“She could’ve texted me if she had something to say.”

Angelina smiles knowingly. “You wanted her to, didn’t you? Well, at least I tried talking to the girl.”

“Okay. You need to stop making sense.” I roll my eyes at her. “I’m the oldest one here.”

“But clearly not the wisest.” Angelina shakes her head, pressing more gently. “You don’t have to fully trust her again, but maybe you should try to clear the air. I mean, who knows, right? Maybe it’s all just a misunderstanding, don’t you think?”

“A misunderstanding?” I scoff.

“A misunderstanding is what got me tied to a hospital bed for months, isn’t it?” her words slice through me, reminding me that not so long ago, our fighting hadn’t been entirely forgotten. “And didn’t I forgive you for being mean to me?”

“You did.” I nod, half-ashamed of my past behavior still. “It’s just hard for me. It makes no sense that I should be the one to reach out first when she’s the one who made things messy.”

“Isn’t it funny? It took you months to reach out to me, too.” Angelina shrugs. “But at some point, you’ll have to decide what matters most to you: getting her back or letting her go.”