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“Things seem . . . tense,” Savannah chimes when I step to the fridge.
“What was your first clue?”
She chuckles, but it’s lacking in any real humor.
“You know, your sister could learn a thing or two from you. She never did have a sense of humor.”
“Nope,” I agree, pouring two glasses of lemonade. I only put one ice cube in hers, though, because screw her and her high and mighty attitude. “That why you came to speak to me? About Missy?”
“Melissais the furthest thing from my mind right now.”
“Let me guess,” I sit the glass down in front of her and slip into a chair on the other side of the table, wincing when at the slide of the denim against the marks from Mason’s fingers on my ass. “I am?”
“No,” she replies coolly. “Though you are there. Festering.”
“I’ve been told I have that effect on people.” I keep my voice as sweet as possible, the venom-laced pretty words rolling off my tongue easily now. There’s no use trying to win her over. She’s already said what she needed to.
Which doesn’t explain why she’s here now.
“If you want the truth,” she starts, her tone clipped. “I came to apologize. It wasn’t my place to say those things the other night.”
I blink, though her apology doesn’t really mean much because I can tell she doesn’t mean it.
But . . . there’s that voice in the back of my mind, practically forcing me to play devil’s advocate.
“No,” I sigh, relaxing back in the chair. “It was. I can understand.”
“You can’t.”
“No? My sister became addicted to drugs because ofyourstepfather.”
“So, perhaps both our families are assholes.”
I pause, staring at her.
“So, you’re here because . . .”
“Because Mason enlightened me on a few issues the other night and I’m finding it hard to hate you as much as I want to.”
Wow. Can’t accuse her of beating around the bush.
“So you came to tell me you didn’t hate me?”
“Mason’s a good man and he cares about you. Regardless of how I feel, I want him to be happy.”
“Savannah, I know my sister hurt your family. I know she did some reallyawful,horriblethings. I’m not excusing that, nor am I trying to hide her from that.”
Her blue eyes narrow on me. “So, why are you trying to help her?”
I suck in a deep breath, wiping my clammy hands on my jeans. “Because as bad as she is, she’s my sister. Her death would solve nothing and it wouldn’t make anyone feel better. Prison is the best place for her if she really did what they’re saying she did.”
“You would rather her rot away in a jail cell than take a bullet to the brain?”
“None of us are innocent,” I murmur, forcing myself to take a drink of my lemonade. “Some of us just have bigger sins to pay for.”
Savannah regards me coldly, and I can read every expression on her face as the thoughts flash through her mind.
“You and I are a lot alike,” she murmurs eventually.
