Page 116 of Unhinged

He licks his lips and concentrates too hard with cutting smooshed bread. “No. Hadley’s only wanted Wilder.”

“Do you miss Hadley?”

Greg narrows his brown eyes at me, and I return to cutting up the French toast I no longer want to eat. When I expect him to ignore me, he says, “Yes.”

I look up at Greg, but he’s cutting his toast. “She’s your best friend. How could you just leave her?”

“She has her own life. I don’t really fit into it anymore. I needed to get out of Richmond. After that night, I kind of just…lost it.”

“You’re important to her.”

“I’m not. It’s just how it goes when you get married and have a kid.”

“Do you want kids someday? I mean, actually yours?”

Greg slouches against his seat with a frown. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I just wanted to know more about you.”

“I’d like to, but I can’t. Well, I could, but I shouldn’t, so I won’t.”

I laugh as I pick up my orange juice. “What the hell does all that mean, Dr. Seuss?”

“In summary, no.” His expression thaws some. “I don’t want them to inherit CF. I just watched my sister die from it.” My heart sinks.

Don’t be a moron. He’s not here to procreate with a stupid college kid.

“That can happen? But your sister had it, not you.”

“It’s hereditary. I was just lucky enough to dodge it. Eden was not.”

My heart drowns, and my throat squeezes. It’s impossible to eat. “I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve demanded Birdy be tested earlier. I just wanted to live in denial that she was even mine.”

“Shasta isn’t a paragon of virtue.” I sigh. “Not that I can say much.”

Greg’s voice is sharp. “You are not like her. At all. Never compare yourself to that lying trouser troll. I had every reason not to trust her. I trust you, Simone.”

I smile, and it’s as bright as my sweater. “Back at you, swizzle stick.”

He grins. “Who’s your favorite sibling?”

My smile droops. “That’s ice cold. But it’d be Finnigan. He’s the only one I grew up with until I was seven or eight. He’s not that bad. Even when we argue, he’ll instantly defend me to someone else. He’s my protective big brother.”

“I’m shocked he didn’t decapitate or neuter me when he found out about us.” There is no us. There’s just you and me, as dumb as that is.

“I know, right?” I giggle at Greg’s pout. “And sometimes I irk him on purpose. It’s fun.”

“Damn. I’ll remember that.” It works on you too, but the outcome is hot.

I ask, “Why don’t you sound like other people around here?”

He chews and then answers, “I’m like my mother, I guess. She’s not from here originally. I don’t know. I guess I never fit in here and didn’t try to. Whatever stuck to me seeps in every now and again, though.” I giggle before taking a bite, and he says, “Something else you don’t know is that I’ve never eaten French toast in my life until now.”

I drop my fork with a metallic clatter. “No way!”

“Truth. I like it.”

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