Page 99 of The Lodge

“It’sentirelydifferent,” I fire back, even though there’s probably more overlap than I’m ready to admit. “I am acting in a professional capacity. I don’t upend people’s private lives without their permission, for one thing.”

“I didn’t, though—I told them you’d introduced him as Tyler, not Jett.”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath. How can she not see the way that detail only made things worse?

“All that did was give people a name to search in this part of Vermont. Do you not see how this photo could ruin his life? Did you even once stop to think that maybe he had good reasons for disappearing and no intention of ever resurfacing?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” she says, flailing a little bit; some of her latte sloshes out onto my white duvet. “I was just a little shocked to see so many famous people right outside your door—I had a fangirl moment and my brain blanked out. I had to tellsomeoneabout it. Thanks for trusting me, by the way. Did they say you’re writing a book with Sebastian Green? Is that why you were always working so much back in New York?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” I say, trying not to focus on the latte stain seeping into the luxe fabric. “And yes, it’s why Iwas alwaystryingto work so much. It’s why I should still be working now. I’m on a huge deadline.”

Her eyes grow steely.

“You could have told me, you know. I would have been really, really happy for you—and it would have made a lot more sense why you were always hiding out in your room instead of hanging out with me, just like you did when we were kids.”

If she meant that to sting, well, mission accomplished.

“I know what happened today isn’t the best example, but I’m actually pretty good at keeping secrets,” she goes on. “Like, did you know Ian lost his job last fall and has been getting help from Mom and Dad?”

I—wow. No, I very much did not know that.

“Didn’t think so,” she says. “And did you know Mom actually got a job to help cover Ian’s expenses? It’s a huge reason I applied for the internship in New York, so I could finally start earning my own money instead of relying on them all the time. I wasn’t sure Mom would even be able to get a job—she applied at, like, five different places the summer after my sixth-grade year, and literally no one gave her the time of day because she didn’t have much on her résumé. Things were tight back then, but we just ended up cutting back on a lot until Dad got his new job.”

Allof this is news to me.

I was almost done with college that summer, already working in entertainment journalism. It was around that time that my parents started making comments: that I should consider something more stable, something more lucrative.

Those comments always felt like judgment and disapproval, but this new information—what they went through, how tight things were even with my dad’s steady paycheck—makes me think maybe they were sincerely trying to be supportive, protective. Maybe itjust came out wrong and I had no context to hear it in any other way. It’s a lot to process.

“I’ve always thought you were so amazing, Alix,” she says sharply, a dagger to my heart. “Living in New York, writing articles about celebrities—you’ve always made it look so easy. You’ve always known exactly who you are, exactly what you want. And I wanted to be like that, too. I still want to be that way. But, like, finding out you don’t trust me? Ithurts.”

The dagger twists.

“Can you blame me?” I counter. “What happened today is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Why I didn’t tellanyone.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were working on a book. You didn’t tell me anything! I’m your sister. Sisters are supposed to be close.”

I sigh. “I’m not saying we can’t be close. I’m just saying, the fact that this happened at all is why I was afraid to tell anyone. You took one picture and shared it with the wrong people—and now it’s out there forever.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I ruined everything.” Abruptly, Lauren stands. “I need some space.”

This conversation isn’t over, but if she wants space, she can have it. She’s stuck here for the foreseeable future thanks to all the snow—we’ll talk again later.

I could use some space myself.

“I’m going to Tyler’s,” I announce too loudly, startling Puffin.

Lauren says nothing as I rip my charging cable out of my phone and tug on my boots. She picks at her chipped nail polish, not even bothering to look up when I leave.

Has Tyler heard there are rumors yet? Surely he hasn’t seen them firsthand since he doesn’t have social media.

I knock on his door, but he doesn’t answer, so I try again. When he still doesn’t answer, I send a text.

It’s just me, I type out in a hurry.Come let me in?

But a minute passes, then two, and he doesn’t text me back. Maybe his phone is dead like mine was?

Something feels wrong. It’s quiet—too quiet. No signs of life, no sounds of his guitar. Nothing. Is it possible he managed to slip out of the building without anyone spotting him?

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