Rolling my eyes, I glance back to the paper and focus on the words, tipping my pen in the corner of my mouth and nibbling on the hard plastic. Disgust crawls up my throat as I bring the ink down and draw harsh lines through the letters until my hand stings from the pressure, and everything I’ve written is scratched out and obsolete.
Absolute shit.
“Yum, what smells so good?” Dorothy’s voice soars through the air. It’s light and airy, and it grates against my ears, the same way it does every time she speaks. I look up through my lashes, tracking her as she walks into the kitchen and smiles wide as she steps up next to Zeke.
“It’s animal flesh.” Zeke winks at me.
I scoff.
She giggles. “Sounds delicious.”
“Does it? Your sister thinks I’m disgusting for eating it.”
“I couldn’t care less about what you choose to do with your life, Ezekiel.” I snap my notebook closed, pulling it up to my chest.
“Well, Evie isn’t exactly known for her good taste,” Dorothy says, sparing me a small glance. “No offense.”
I narrow my eyes, taking in her perfectly pressed baby-blue checked pantsuit and bright-red lips. She’s always put together, but today, she looks just a little extra, and while not having her in the house is a blessing, I also don’t like the idea of her going out on the town and plastering her face everywhere in public.
She either fails to realize that she constantly puts us at risk or she simply doesn’t care, and our father loves her too much to rein her in, allowing his guilt over Nessa to bleed into his affection for Dorothy while she slips effortlessly into the role as “Daddy’s favorite.”
But that’s perfectly fine with me. I don’t want to be anyone’s favorite. I just want to be left the hell alone.
“You ready to go?” Zeke asks her.
“Yep,” she replies. “Dad already gave me the rundown.”
My head tilts, curiosity spinning webs through my middle. I’ve never seen Zeke and Dorothy go anywhere together, much less run an errand for our dad. “Where are you going?”
For just a slight second, confusion mars Dorothy’s features, brows drawing inward and eyes moving back and forth, like my question unlocked an invisible puzzle for her to piece together. But that’s all it lasts for—a moment. As quick as the look came, it vanishes, her eyes clearing as a smile spreads across her face. “There’s some guy Zeke wants to bring on. Dad asked me to go with, make sure he checks out.”
Zeke’s shoulders stiffen. “I’d know if he wasn’t good for it. You think I’m lyin’？ Fuck outta here with that shit.”
She laughs. “I don’t think anything, Zeke, just saying what Dad said.” She cocks her head as she looks at me again. “Didn’t he tell you?”
My chest pinches from her words because no, he didn’t tell me. And while I don’t need to know everything that goes on, it still stings when he keeps me in the background, blind from omission and bound by blood.
Especially when he tells me in private how important I am.
But I get why he didn’t. I wouldn’t be on board with bringing on anyone new right now. Not when it feels like we’re being attacked by an invisible enemy from all sides. Between the Cantanellis from Chicago making backroom deals with the mayor of our town, and the idiot drug dealers who think it’s a good idea to skim off the top, it’s not a good time.
Zeke’s eyes flick to me. “He didn’t tell you ‘cause there’s nothin’ to tell. Not yet, anyway.”
I nod, my fingers playing with the edges of the notebook paper.
He stands up, cracking his neck. “I’m gonna go start the car. We leave in five minutes.”
Dorothy smiles at him, her eyes following as he walks through the arched hallway and disappears before she spins to face me. “He’s just trying to make you feel better… you know that, right?”
“Feel better for what?”
She shrugs, lifting one of her hands and picking at her nail beds. “Because Dad’s showing me the ropes.”
I lift my brows. “Have fun with that.”
Her grin drops. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means… have fun with that,” I repeat. “I’m sure I’ll get pulled in when it’s time to clean up your mess.”
Her eyes flicker toward my small notebook. “Whatever, Evie. You have fun sitting here being pissed off at the world and writing your stupid little love spells. Maybe if you tried a bit harder to be normal, Dad would pay you some attention instead of hiding you in corners and only bringing you out at night.”
I grit my teeth, my fingers tightening around the edges of the paper. “It’s poetry.”
She smirks. “Sure.”
“Dorothy, we need to go,” Zeke says, walking back into the room and glancing at me. “Want me to pick up anything on the way back?”
I smile wide. “A new sister would be nice.”
Dorothy scoffs. “Why? You couldn’t even keep your old one.”
My grin drops, and my fingers move from my notebook to the edge of the island, grief blazing in the center of my gut like acid. Closing my eyes, I count back from ten, letting Nessa’s memory coach me into a sense of calm that I don’t truly feel. Otherwise, I’ll be inclined to act on those pesky impulses again, and that won’t do me any favors.
“Dorothy,” Zeke snaps. “Shut the fuck up and get in the car.”
“But I—”
“Now.”
She pouts and leaves with one last look over her shoulder.
The silence presses in, feeling heavier with every second, but still, I keep my eyes squeezed so tight my head starts to ache.
Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven…
“She didn’t mean it,” Zeke finally whispers.
I pry my lids apart, peering over at him. “She did. But it’s fine.”
Closing my notebook, I push to stand, fury pulsing through my veins. Moving out from behind the large kitchen island, I press past Zeke, walking so quickly my legs burn. I don’t stop until I’m at the front entrance, the black-and-white checkered marble gleaming beneath the crystal chandelier, a large princess staircase splitting either side. My feet stomp as I make my way up the steps, and I focus on counting while I head toward my room.
Anything to keep my mind off the simmering feelings bubbling beneath the surface of my skin.
Little splashes of muted sunshine splay across the glossy wood floor and I purposely step around them as I walk down the hall. This house is too big. Too bright, with all the abstract paintings hanging on the walls and the light peeking in through the windowpanes.
Pushing open the door to my room, I rush toward the end table and slip my notebook into the drawer before heading to the vanity and sighing as I look at myself in the mirror.
My face looks drawn. Tired. I reach my fingers up and press them underneath my eyes, the dark circles making the muddy brown of my irises look like pits of black. I push firmly until pressure bleats across my sockets and I drag my nails down my cheeks, the rings that adorn each of my fingers clacking when they touch.
Get it together.
Reaching for the oversized scrunchie on the table, I throw my dyed-black hair into a messy bun and grab a hoodie, heading out of my room and back downstairs to make sure Zeke and Dorothy are really gone.