Page 108 of The Logic of Loyalty

“Not really a loss of control, but … embracing my chaos.”

She rolls her eyes. “Potato, potato.” We’re quiet as she looks beyond me. “I’ve never blamed you. When we were kids, and then when you left. I knew what was happening.” Her knuckles go white, then regain their color, where they’re now tightly wrapped around her mug. “Our parents were master manipulators, but they didn’t bother to try to manipulate me. They put their energy into everything around me, including you, to make me small.”

“I don’t feel like that’s an excuse—” Guilt starts to claw up my chest. She was so young, still is so young.

“It’s absolutely an excuse, a reason, a terrible thing that they did to both of us. They couldn’t have us on the same side, Trevor. They couldn’t have you, in all of your hero-syndrome⁠—”

“Hey, wait a minute⁠—”

“Oh, please. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I—you are—” I consider and roll my eyes. “Not wrong. Goddammit.” A humorless laugh bubbles up. “I would’ve tried to save you⁠—”

“And they couldn’t afford that if they wanted to maintain power over us.”

“That’s super fucked up.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s amazing how I saw that with them, but I missed everything with Bobby.”

“He’s a snake and a creep.”

“That doesn’t help, bro.” She cringes at the moniker and hits me with her electric blues. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to call you that again.”

“How can it sound so fucking weird?” I laugh through my question, and she shrugs, a real smile tugs at her lips.

“I know, right?” We both take sips from our coffees, and I marvel at how perfectly she prepared mine. I also see how pale her coffee is. The little liar.

“When are you going to tell Bobby—uh⁠—”

“That we are not actually engaged? Probably never. I will give him his ring back and tell him I’m not feeling it.”

“Will you tell him that you knew?”

“Absolutely not. He gets to wonder for the rest of his life, only hearing it from the people around me, around us. I’ll wait until everything comes to a close at the bank.”

“Next week, I’m pretty sure.”

“Next week.” We both take another sip.

“I am sorry, though. Whether you blame me or not. I wish I could have been less blind. I’ll try to be a better brother to you.”

“You already are.” No hesitation, no inflection, just a straight-up statement as if it’s an easy truth.

“Thanks. sis.” I cringe, and she guffaws. I caught it too, and soon we’re both unable to control the laughter spilling from us.

“That’s the worst! We can’t call each other bro and sis. It’s off the table.” She wipes a tear from her eye, and I’m gratified it’s from joy and humor, not more fuckups.

“I agree. You’re Beth or Bethany. I’m Trevor or Trev.”

She shakes her head. “Even Trev is weird.”

I nod. “When do you start work?”

She frowns and fiddles with a strand of her hair. “I—next week.”

“What aren’t you saying?”

“I don’t have a car.”