“Back so soon?” Meg shuts her book with a sigh.
“I need a new book.” I wipe my damp face with the bottom of my shirt.
“Already? You just bought three a few days ago.”
I run my hands through my slick strands of hair. “Not like I have much else to do around here besides read.”
“What are you looking for this time?”
I pull out my phone to check Zahra’s list, only to remember I already bought all the books she recommended. “Huh.” My brows pinch together. “Do you have any recommendations?”
Her brows furrow. “For you?”
I look around the empty shop.
“Are you looking for something similar to what you read last time?” she asks.
“Or whatever you recommend.”
Her eyes brighten for the first time ever. “Really?”
“Sure? Just don’t set me up with something shitty because you don’t like me.”
Her cackle doesn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy, but my uneasiness fades away as she bounces around the store with a smile while throwing books at me until the stack surpasses the top of my head.
She motions me toward the counter. “That should keep you busy for some time.”
“Or a week,” I mutter underneath my breath.
“You know if you have a lot of time on your hands, I heard the team in charge of the Strawberry Festival is still searching for volunteers.”
“To do what?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but if you’re interested, you can stop by Town Hall and sign up.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I tuck my hands into my pockets.
She raises a brow. “What’s the worst that can happen? The town actually has a reason to start liking you again?”
Well, when she puts it that way…
I would rather spend the rest of my weeks at Lake Wisteria without the town going out of their way to make my stay miserable, so if it means volunteering for a weekend, then so be it. What could possibly go wrong?
17
ALANA
I should have known today was going to be a bad day when one of my kids’ parents nearly brought me to tears after ripping into me during a meeting to discuss their child failing my class. Then two of my students got caught skipping school during my period.
All it takes is a certain number calling me to push me straight over the edge and directly into meltdown territory. I consider ignoring my sister’s call, but my guilty conscience doesn’t let me.
I’m great at establishing boundaries for everyone in my life but my sister. It’s a massive issue she exploits, and the reason I spent a large chunk of the inheritance Brady left me trying to save her from self-destructing.
The phone vibrates in my hand.
Just get it over with.
I lock the door to my classroom before answering the phone. “Hello.”
“Alana!” My sister’s overly excited voice makes my speaker crackle.
“Antonella.” I keep my tone flat despite my escalating pulse.
“I’ve missed you. How are you?”
“Working.”
She laughs. “Of course. How’s your job going at the school?”
“Same old, same old.”
“And Cami?”
My spine straightens. Unless my sister needs something from me, she never cares to ask about Cami.
“What do you want?”
She huffs. “Do most people need a reason to call their baby sister?”
“People? No. You? Absolutely.” Antonella usually calls for two things: money or housing—neither of which I can provide her with anymore. I made that mistake right after Mom died, and the result nearly broke Cami’s heart. Although my little superstar didn’t know Anto was her mom, she grew attached to my sister hanging around, only to be broken-hearted when she disappeared.
It was my fault for being stupid and hopeful.
Not anymore though.
“I didn’t like how we left things last time,” she says like it hasn’t been over two years since we have talked.
“It’s been two years already and you decide to call now?” My hand clutching on to the phone tightens.
“I’m in a bit of a pinch and I was hoping you could help me out.”
“No.”
“But—”
“I’m not helping you anymore.” Pure intentions haven’t worked for me in the past, so maybe a little tough love will work better. And even if I wanted to help my sister, I can’t. Between paying off my mom’s medical bills, supporting Cami, and then saving Antonella from herself, I’m out of funds.
“But I’m sober for real this time. All thanks to you.”
More like thanks to the cash you stole from my safe.
I shut my eyes. “That’s good.”
Assuming she is even telling the truth, the skeptical voice in my head says. I learned a long time ago not to trust my sister. It only took a hundred different disappointments to get there.
“Does that mean you’ll let me crash at your place?”
“No, but I’m happy for you.”
She makes an indiscernible noise. “Come on, Alana. Just give me a couple of weeks to get things sorted out. I’m struggling to pay my rent and bills since Trent moved out. He covered his half until the end of June to give me some time, but after that, I’m all on my own.”
I’m not sure who Trent is or what his connection is to my sister, but at least he paid his part of the rent. I can’t say the same about most of the men my sister has hung around with.
She keeps going. “I can’t stay here past June, and I don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s not like I want to head back to Lake Hysteria, but what other choice do I have? I won’t be there for long. I promise.”
My chest pinches.
Don’t you dare fall for her usual shit. Think about Cami.
“I’m sorry, Anto. That’s a sucky situation to be in—”
“But you won’t help me.” Her voice is sharper this time. My sister has always acted the same way, being sweet as flan de coco until she doesn’t get what she wants.
I shake my head. “It’s not fair to Cami.”
“Really? Or is it not fair to you?”
I suck in a breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s obvious you’re intimidated that Cami might not want you anymore if I come back around.”
I bite back a bitter laugh. “I’m not intimidated by you. Nothing you can do or say will change the fact that I’m her mother.” Anto made sure of that the day she signed away her parental rights and made me a mother of a premature baby who was saved from neonatal abstinence syndrome due to her preterm birth.
“You wouldn’t even be her mother if it weren’t for me, so how about you show a little gratitude?”
Anto’s harsh comment shouldn’t come as a shock, but the heavy disappointment that hits me does. I thought I was used to this kind of treatment. Yet despite all the pep talks I have given myself over the years, my sister’s words still have the ability to cut through me quicker than any blade.
It’s the people we love most who always hurt us the hardest.
It is hard for me to accept that this version of Anto is the same person who would wipe my tears whenever I cried, and hug me through entire thunderstorms because I was afraid of them. The sister I grew up with would never speak to me like this, which can only mean one thing.