Page 99 of No Headlines Please

I did, actually. It wasn't only because I owed him a heads-up. Mostly, I dreaded the idea of returning to Tessa's empty apartment, where I knew exactly what I'd do.

I'd completely lose it. I'd end up sobbing on her couch – or worse in her shower, where I'd been spending far too much time already.

As I trudged into Walt's living room, he grabbed the remote and gave it a click – not turning off the game, but muting the sound while I sat on the nearby sofa.

He sank into the nearest recliner and waved a hand. "Now, come on. Out with it."

I blinked long and hard before letting out a sigh. "The thing is…I got caught in the trash again."

He studied my face. "Forget the trash. What's got you upset?"

I tried to smile. "How do you know it's not the trash?"

"Because people don't cry over garbage. So unless you found a severed head, I'm guessing it's something else."

No. It was someone else.

Still, I waved the thought away as I tried to keep my voice level. "I've just got a lot going on, that's all." I felt so alone and overwhelmed. I could've really used a sister. "And Tessa's not returning my calls."

"So that's why you're upset?" His expression cleared. "Don't worry about that. Siblings fight all the time. One time, I didn't talk to my brother for a whole year. And we worked it out."

I forced a little laugh. "I never said we were fighting."

"You didn't have to." He gave me a knowing look. "You're here. She's not. And you just said she's not answering your calls. Sounds like a fight to me."

If only it were that simple. I'd spent the past year avoiding Tessa like the plague. So was it any wonder she was doing the same to me?

Then again, we'd been drifting apart for years. I sank deeper onto the sofa. "Maybe we're just too different."

"How so?"

"Well…for starters, you'd never see her digging in the trash." And then, before Walt could reply, I added, "Speaking of which, I should tell you what happened."

He shook his head. "Nah. I already heard."

I couldn't help but groan. "You did? Already?" Damn it. I knew I should've come down right away. Then again, it's not like I'd been doing nothing.

He leaned forward, and his eyes glittered with mischief. "So tell me, were you really stealing it?"

And just like that, an image popped into my head. It was a snapshot of myself as seen through the eyes of Mrs. Stelter, who'd exited the elevator on this very floor just in time to see me hoist the whole Santa sack of trash from the bin.

But hey, there was a method to my madness. I'd been planning to dig through it in private.

No audience. No drama. And no getting caught with a stupid burger bag.

Turns out, I'd been wildly optimistic. The bag had barely cleared the bin when I'd been caught red-handed like the Grinch on Christmas Eve.

By then, what was I supposed to do?

Put it back?

As if that would solve anything.

Instead, I'd made a break for it, bolting for the stairwell, lugging the bag like stolen booty.

And once I had the bag safely inside Tessa's kitchen, I'd had to dig through it, right? I mean, why go to all that effort just to give up halfway?

After I found those disposable gloves under the sink, there was no turning back. I'd used the gloves to dig through every piece of garbage, dropping each discarded item into a new trash bag as I went.