Page 39 of Broken Pact

The sharp edges of suspicion prick at my consciousness as she remains rooted in place.

Ah, so it’s gonna be like that then? Fine by me.

I look her in the eyes and say, “You should go now.” I don’t trust her, so I’m not going to leave until she does.

I swipe open my texts and see a string of messages from Hawke.

Hawke: So it’s a green light then? I can take the almighty Jagger’s sister out and show her a good time?

Hawke: I’m gonna take your silence as a yes.

Hawke: Get your ass back to the garage, BROTHER

Hawke: Get it?

Hawke: Okay, but seriously. Are you coming back soon because Mrs. Shepley just dropped off her car. She swears there’s a squirrel living under the hood and you’re the only one who can fix it for her.

A low chuckle rumbles in my chest and I envision a squirrel running circles around Hawke in the garage. They’d make a fucking mess, but it might be worth it if I could catch it on video.

“Fine,” she says with a huff. She spins on the ball of her foot and storms down the street. I note the make and model of car she climbs into, but she turns around before I can get a good look at the license plate. It’s fine, I don’t really need it anyway. Hawke can find plates in his sleep.

Me: I’ll be right there.

Me: And as for the other thing, I would be careful if I were you. Shit’s fucked up. I’ve never even met Naomi before today.

Hawke: Oh damn. I hung out with a girl named Naomi a couple months ago, and she was fucking wild.

Hawke: And not in the ‘down for anything’ kind of wild I usually like. More like ‘I’m gonna poke holes in your condoms because we’re gonna be together forever’ kind of way. Fastest way to get me to dip in case you were wondering.

Me: I wasn’t.

I drag my hand across my mouth with a shake of my head. I don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking half the time, but that’s part of his charm. Dives into chaos like a moth to a flame.

Naomi’s car disappears around the corner, and I take a moment to center myself before heading back to the garage. I’ve got more important things to worry about than the motivations of a long-lost half-sister.

20

CORALINE

My sister returns my call when my arms are full of ingredients, because that’s the kind of day I’m having. I juggle a few things, doing a weird skip-hop thing to the center worktable.

I balance a bag of flour on my hip and answer the phone with a muffled, “Hello? Abby?”

“Cora, hey, what’s up?” Her voice sounds far away, like she’s using Bluetooth in a SUV or something.

“Hold on one second, I just got inside the bakery.” I switch it to speakerphone and drop it in the middle of the counter. “Okay, I’m back.”

“You called?”

I fiddle with the edge of the flour bag, my gaze flickering around the room as I search for the right words.

If it were anyone else, I’d already be at Eve’s house, forty-five minutes deep into this conundrum. She’d have a pros and cons list going and bottomless snacks.

But she loves Nova, and he’s one of Jagger’s best friends. I’d have to ask her to keep everything to herself, and she would do it because she’s the literal best human. But I’d feel like shit for asking her to keep something from Nova, and then it’d turn into this whole big thing.

No, it’s better if I don’t go to her with this problem.

Which only really left one person: Abby.

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