Page 12 of Brick

She forced the image of his face out of her head. “I wish you could have made it to Moe’s last night. It would’ve been great to have you there for Will’s birthday.”

Izzy poked the lettuce in her salad around with her chopsticks. “I’m sorry. You know I’m not big on a crowded bar scene.”

She did but had no idea why. As much as she knew her sister loved her, she suspected Iz kept a lot of things to herself.

“Besides,” Iz continued briskly, “we’re having dinner together tonight. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

Normally, she would jump at the chance for a night with her entire family, but the idea of seeing Will right now made her blood boil. Even if she did need to retrieve her license, she hadn’t quite forgiven him for the way he’d behaved the night before.

“Nah.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “We’ll all get together for the Sunday dinner I’ve got planned next weekend. You guys can go ahead and have some quality time together now. I’ve got a ton of papers to grade, but make him give you my driver’s license. I need it to drive to work Monday.”

Izzy’s eyebrows flew up, and it appeared she planned to press for more, but the waitress returned with their next course before she could speak. Iz could always see right through her bullshit. Ever since their parents had died more than a decade ago, they’d been more than sisters—more than friends. Especially while Will had been in prison, they were the only family each other had.

Still, she did not want to retread what happened last night.

Carol snickered. “Sounds like the same excuse you gave me when I tried to get you to have dinner with Rosita and me last Saturday night.”

A crinkle formed between Izzy’s brow as she frowned at Liv. “I thought you liked Rosita.”

True. Carol’s girlfriend was awesome. She’d been a total rock throughout the chemo treatments, everything Carol’s now ex-husband hadn’t been the first time she got sick. A loud and boisterous spitfire, Rosita clearly loved Carol with her whole heart. And she would have ripped Liv a new one without a moment’s hesitation for jumping out—

Oh, shit.

Carol swallowed a spoonful of broth. “She didn’t want to face the music…”

Liv shook her head frantically.

“…for our skydiving trip.”

Thunderclouds passed over Izzy’s eyes. “Your. What?”

A grin teased the corner of Carol’s lips. Wily bitch. She’d done it on purpose.

“Skydiving,” Liv murmured. “It was on the list.”

Jaw locked, Iz pushed away the plate, half her food untouched. “You know how I feel about your damn list.” Her sister glared at her, then Carol, and back again, as if she couldn’t decide where to lay the blame. “There’s got to be a better way to celebrate your survival.”

“You don’t understand.”

Izzy stood abruptly, her napkin falling off her lap onto the floor. “No. You don’t understand. I just got my family back together.”

“And I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to see me more than ever now since I’m coming to your gym.” She placed her hand on Izzy’s arm. “Don’t be mad.”

Iz stood still for a moment before nodding once and dropping four twenties on the table. “I’ll text you the class schedule.” She left without saying goodbye.

Liv glared at Carol, who casually moved the noodles around in her bowl. “Why did you do that?”

“She needs to stop babying you. And you need to stop tiptoeing around her. She’s your blood. You need someone you can share your secrets with.”

“I’ve got you, don’t I?” She shook off her irritation and stuffed a piece of her shrimp tempura roll into her mouth.

Carol’s face took on a look she couldn’t read. Her friend opened her mouth, then closed it with a small shake of her head. She probably planned to give her another lecture on the importance of family, but thankfully, changed her mind.

“You know she flipped out when I showed her the pictures from cliff diving.” Izzy gave her a verbal beat down and epic shaming, all rolled into one. A lecture about how Iz thought remission meant she could finally stop worrying about planning her own sister’s funeral. Lots of yelling. Tears.

“Some secrets are better kept undercover, but I’ve got one begging to be shared.” She leaned closer to Carol. “I met a guy.”

“Forgive me if I withhold my enthusiasm. Your taste in men leans a bit toward the stuffy asshat end of the spectrum.” Carol had never met Ryan, but Liv had showed her some pictures, and more importantly, told her a few stories. “Let me guess. A pasty-white investment banker who wears a custom suit to work every day. No. A politician. Phony and full of himself.”

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