Page 48 of What Goes Around

“You came in late,” he said. “Your mother said you got home at six?”

I held his gaze for a moment.

My feelings toward him were… complicated. He had been absent. Biased. Willfully blind. But never cruel in the way she was.

In another life, that had been enough for me.

“She ditched me,” Apple said lightly, like it was a cute story. “But it’s fine. I got home.”

I watched her closely. The tilt of her head. The softness of her voice. The tiny, practiced tremble in her lashes.

Apple had perfected this act long before we were old enough to name manipulation.

Dad frowned. “Ashley, that’s not acceptable. You’re too young to stay out all night, and you left your sister alone. Anything could’ve happened.”

“Apple is only eight months younger than me,” I replied, walking to the counter and pouring myself a glass of water. “I’m sure she’s capable.”

Mom spun around, ready to pounce. “She could’ve been hurt! You didn’t watch her, just like you didn’t all those years ago. I hoped you’d learn responsibility by now.”

Right on cue, Apple’s eyes filled with delicate, shimmering tears.

I lowered my gaze so they wouldn’t see the disgust. It was always the same script.

Apple was helpless.

Apple was delicate.

Apple was the victim.

The survivor.

“I was a child back then too,” I said. “Just like she was.”

Mom’s lips thinned. “Don’t use that tone—”

But Dad lifted a hand, silently asking her to stand down.

Mom immediately shifted her attention to Apple. “How are you feeling, honey?”

I buttered two slices of toast.

Apple sighed dramatically. “Better now. I was just… overwhelmed. Parties can trigger my anxiety.” She fluttered her lashes at Dad. “But Anton was so sweet. He helped calm me down.”

Mom stroked her hair with a tenderness she rarely spared for me. “You’re so strong, sweetheart.”

“Anton? The McAllister boy?” Dad asked.

Mom brightened instantly. “He’s very handsome.”

I stood there, watching them talk like I wasn’t even in the room. A familiar shift. It didn’t matter what the conversation started as. Somehow, it always curved back to her.

Everything did.

Apple let out a soft, shy giggle. “Mom,” she murmured, like she was embarrassed by the attention.

Then she turned to me.

“Ash… you’re quiet this morning. Are you upset with me? Did I do something?”