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“Hey, Trick?”

I look over my shoulder at Rachel, who’s twenty-two but who’s so tiny and small-boned she looks like fifteen was yesterday. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna play while you think. But just to be clear, I’m not on the shore. I’m on the deck. And that’s where I’ll be, until the holes get patched or we sink.” With that she turns and walks away.

Rachel’s another one who had a trial-by-fire childhood. Runaway mistress for a mother. Evil, emotionally abusive father. These are my people, my crue.

“Once upon a time,” I whisper. “Your mom had a secret. She did something bad. Yeah. And your dad almost died because of it. Uncle C and Uncle Trick were really sad. True story. So when Uncle Trick found out, he thought he should send your mom away for good.” I exhale, thinking about how close I came to ruining Anvil’s life. “Now that Uncle Trick knows her better, he’s really glad he didn’t.” I kiss the baby’s little head, looking at the pool table. “What do you think? You want stripes or solids?”

* * *

Laurel

By the time Trick comes to the room, I’m furious, having sent two more texts for a total of three that he ignored. Was he palling around with his friends over coffee? For them it may be a normal day, but my sister’s still missing.

At the dresser, he pulls out a pair of socks and puts them on. “What’s up?”

“Did you read my messages?”

“Yes.”

“It’s been over an hour since I sent the first one.”

“I know.”

“What took you so long to come up?”

“Truth?”

“That’s best, right? Lies are a punishable offense.”

“I didn’t come up because I hoped you’d come down. You could’ve kissed a baby that’s the cutest one on the planet for about eight more months. And you could’ve kissed me.” Sliding his watch on, he snaps the clasp shut.

“My parents are upset. I should be with them.”

“My guys found Monet. They’re waiting for us.”

Startled, my head turns sharply to study him as he picks up his gun. He examines it, moving the parts experimentally. “Pool water. Meant to clean this. Forgot.”

“Trick?”

“Yeah?” he says, looking over.

“You found her? Monet’s back in Coynston right now?”

He nods, his expression flat. “I said I’d find her for you.”

“Thank you,” I say emphatically. “She was gone for almost two weeks once and—”

“It was tough on you guys. Sure. When my sister was gone for five months, it was one of the toughest times of my life. I know what it feels like to worry.”

Exhaling, I step forward, but his arms strapping on his holster are in the way of my getting too close.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Ready?” His tone is neutral, but it hurts me.

Picking up my purse, I feel the rift down to my bones, as I guess he means me to. When am I going to learn that there is no game anyone plays with Trick that they actually win? Trying to push him to do something he doesn’t want to do, even just climbing some stairs, isn’t ever going to work. If one of us is going to be uncomfortable, it’s always going to end up being me.