Page 14 of Seale the Deal

Her forehead creases. It just feels shitty, you know? Like I dragged her here, and now I’m ditching her.

You didn’t drag her, I say gently. You helped her. You two have been planning this for a long time, and she knew you’d still have to work.

She bites her lip.

And you’re not leaving her with a stranger, I add. You’re leaving her with me.

That earns me the smallest smile. To her, you’re a stranger.

But not to you. And you know who I am deep down.

She nods.

You’re not a bad friend, Remi, I say, softer this time. You’re doing what you two planned to do: give her a fresh start. That’s what this is all about, right? Integrating. Living like it’s real.

Remi nods slowly, and I see the gratitude in her eyes.

Go on, now. You have work to do.

Fine. I’m going. Call me if you need me, okay?

She shuts the door and gives a wave as she U-turns and disappears down the road.

I face the house.

Okay. Here we go.

I haul the suitcases up the porch and step inside my house. Wrenley’s shoes are neatly tucked by the door. I spot her in the living room, chin resting on the back of the couch, watching the street like she’s trying to figure out how hard it’d be to run away on foot.

I drop the backpack and abandon the suitcases, then lean against the doorway.

Uh, I say, running a hand through my hair. Remi said you might be hungry?

Wrenley doesn’t look at me. No. I ate.

Trash. You ate trash.

A quiet settles between us, broken only by the soft creak of the house growing darker with each passing second.

How about a light? I ask, stepping into the room.

I’m fine.

I let my hand fall back to my side. She still won’t meet my eyes. And something about her slumped, defeated posture makes my chest ache. This isn’t the same woman from twenty minutes ago who, even while terrified, looked so full of life. This one looks… small. Lonely.

I’m sorry my sister abandoned you, I say, voice light.

Wrenley whips her head around, eyes flashing. She didn’t abandon me. She has a job. And I’m not here for a vacation. I live here now.

I hold my hands up, smirking. Easy, Canada. I was joking.

Her expression softens just slightly.

I drop onto the couch, careful to give her space. She exhales, her shoulders sagging.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that, she says, voice soft. Reality just hit all at once, I guess.

I nod. I get it. Fake marrying my sister’s best friend wasn’t exactly on my bingo card this year, but life’s weird like that.