Page 138 of Vicious Sentiments

My shoulders sink and I hit pause, turning to face her.

“She told me not to ask you but…” Her cheeks deflate and she looks down at the bracelet on her wrist. I hadn’t noticed it before but it warms me that she put it back on so quickly after they had to take it off in the hospital.

“What did she tell you?” I ask, afraid of how big of a lie I’m going to have to go along with.

“That he couldn’t handle me being in the hospital and that he needed to be with doctors who could help him.”

I purse my lips. It’s almost accurate.

“I know he used to have a doctor he talked to. Why can’t he talk to them? Why does he have to stay at some institution? And I’m better now, why can’t he come home?” she sounds so small, suddenly every bit the young thirteen-year-old that she is.

My heart breaks and I grab her hands. “Dillon wasn’t okay even before your accident.”

Her blonde brows come together, and I take a deep breath.

“You remember how you told me you thought Dillon…” I trail off. Maybe I shouldn’t bring it up.

She squints at me for a minute and then sighs. “God, I hope he gets better because I can’t be like Katie.” She flicks her hair and faces the TV. “Do you know that Sylvia won’t let Katie hang out with us anymore because of her brother Kirby?”

I can tell her mind is still turning but if she wants to change the subject, that’s okay with me.

“Well, Sylvia sounds like a bitch,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. Apparently, Marney got all the sanity and left Dillon with none.

“That’s what I said!” she exclaims and grabs the remote. “But then Jennifer told me she’s still going to have Katie over for her birthdayand Sylvia is going to be there and it’s going to be great.”

She hits play and leans back, continuing to tell me about every girl in school, and even though I can’t keep up, I just listen, keeping the promise I made.

She falls asleep before the credits even roll, and I slink out of the bed, shaking my head. She couldn’t even stay awake for the whole movie but wants to go to the salon.

When I make it down stairs, I’m surprised to see muffins on the counter and the back of Margo’s head outside the french doors. Cape and Julian are nowhere to be seen, and I steal a chocolate muffin before I slip outside.

I haven’t had a chance to talk to Margo and I want her to know that I don’t blame her.

“Hi,” I say as I step around the chaise.

“Peach.” She looks up, and I suddenly see how tired she is.

She hasn’t bothered with makeup and the puffiness around her eyes tells me she’s been crying. She’s swaddled in a blanket, and there’s an untouched cup of coffee in her hands, the steam long gone.

I sit beside her, holding the muffin in my lap, not sure what to say or even if it’s the right time to say anything. I just know that she shouldn’t be alone.

She taps a finger on my wrist and eyes the muffin. “Where did that come from?”

“It was on the counter. There’s a whole box,” I say.

“Hm.” She tilts her head and a soft smile appears on her lips. “Probably Julian. If it was Cape there wouldn’t be any chocolate ones left. At least I raised one good man.”

“Two,” I clarify, unable to help myself.

“Two,” she agrees. “But I couldn’t get the third right.” She turns to me and frowns.

“It’s not your fault,” my voice comes out as a whisper.

“Yes it is. It became my fault the day their car went off the cliff.”

“Margo…”

“No.” She shakes her head and takes the muffin from my hands, placing it and her cup on the table. “I was being stupid.” She grasps my hands and pulls them into the blanket.

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