Page 105 of The Next Lie

Cal’s expression changes. “You don’t need to get in the middle of our⁠—”

“That’s our business,” she interrupts curtly. “Not yours or anyone else’s. Cal’s leaving.”

“Reva, take the timeout. Shiloh has something to show you,” Ever says.

“I don’t need a break,” Reva says.

“No, but I do. I have been awake since before dawn, committed several acts of retail violence on your behalf, and I would like applause before this family argument resumes.”

Her brows draw together. “Retail violence?”

I shake the bags. “Come see.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“You are never in the mood for being taken care of. Somehow, it keeps happening anyway.”

She looks at Cal when I say that. A mistake on my part, maybe. His face softens. Hers closes harder.

I move before she can say something that will be difficult to walk back from.

“Upstairs,” I say. “Five minutes. Then you can come back and eviscerate everyone in the order of your choosing.”

Ever steps aside from the hall. Nash says nothing, which is possibly the greatest miracle this house has ever seen.

Reva hesitates long enough that I expect her to refuse. Then she jerks her chin toward the stairs.

“Fine.”

I gesture grandly. “After you.”

She walks past me without appreciating the flourish.

Women are cruel.

I follow her through the hall and up the stairs, carrying the evidence of my morning. Behind us, the kitchen stays quiet. That worries me more than shouting would. Men like Nash and Cal do not need raised voices to cause damage. They can do it with silence, posture, and the kind of control that makes everyone else in the room feel twelve years old.

Reva’s shoulders stay rigid all the way to her room.

At the door, she stops and looks back. “I just want you to be aware that I’m aware this is a distraction. So it’s not a very good distraction.”

“Good. I’d hate to insult your intelligence while manipulating you.”

“That is not as charming as you think it is.”

“Shot to the heart.”

Lips twitching, she opens the door and steps inside.

Her room still looks temporary. Bed made too neatly. Dresser mostly empty. A pair of shoes near the chair. Homer asleep in the middle of the bed like a little orange king, one paw over his face.

Reva looks at him. “He fell in the shower this morning.”

“I heard.”

“He chose to stay.”

“Can’t say that I blame him.”