Page 29 of Bona Fide

And now I’m intrigued.

“Mhm, there she is,” I state. “Phoebe with an attitude. Where have you been for the last decade?”

She shakes her head with furrowed brows. “It’s not funny.”

“Clearly. I lost both my sister and my brother over addiction. So, notice how I’m not laughing.”

“You didn’t lose me and Camila to parties and drugs,” Phoebe leers. “You lost us to your wife.”

I scoff. “Now we’re blaming other people for your drug problem?”

“You think I’m addicted to drugs?” she taunts through a clenched jaw. “For the last six years, there is a man that comes to my house, my book club, my fucking yoga classes, and forces pills down my throat. They’re all different, so I never know when or who is coming. And sometimes, they thrust a needle into my arm to inject me with—” She shrugs, but it turns into a violent shivering spasm.

I’ve accused her a million times.

I’ve said things to her that are unpardonable and cruel. During all my goals and ideas, my sister showing up high at dinners and coming home with half her clothes on…

My eyes widen as suggestions slam into my brain.

“Phoebe.” She keeps her eyes from me as I reach for her, but I refrain. We’ve been distant strangers for years, and I don’t touch people I don’t know.

I don’t know my own sister.

I haven’t wanted to.

What she did was unforgivable. Maybe I blame her for Camila’s death when others are to blame too, but she’s been the only one around. I sent Demi to exile in Paris, and I expected more from Phoebe.

I demanded more from her because Camila and her were sisters. Phoebe was a few minutes older, which gave her the responsibility to be the smarter one. Not let her party with my high-loving wife.

“Start explaining,” I command. “What man?”

“Demi’s man,” she mutters. “Each time, when they were done, they would kiss my cheek and say ‘with love, from Demi’. With love…” She shakes her head. “I never did anything but love her like a sister. I loved her because you did. I welcomed her because you looked at her like she was the world.”

“You’re telling me...that Demi still…”

“I just told you...six—” Her eyes flick to mine. “Years.” I swallow the lump lodged in my throat as my sister continues. “Camila wanted to stop. She didn’t like the way it made her feel. She didn’t like not remembering. Demi didn’t want to, she began sneaking it into our food, drinks...Camila would get upset.” She bows her head into her chest. “I never stuck up for her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Camila wanted to tell you, she shouldn’t have said that.” I inch closer to her, my heart crashing into my ribcage.

“Said what?”

Phoebe bites her lower lip before she says, “That she wanted to out Demi and tell you. Because Demi killed her—on purpose.”

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