Page 165 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

“What happened? Is it TJ?”

I’m not sure I should tell her the truth. I don’t want to burden her with my relationship drama.

“I… No, of course not. I’m fine, I promise.”

Still, she doesn’t budge. A few seconds elapse. The next thing I know, she’s making her way over to me and sitting down on the chair opposite mine. I consider trying to hide the mug and letter but decide that it’s no use. She’s already seen them, and she’s clearly not letting this go.

“That’s exactly what I meant, you know? When I said you stopped treating me like your sister.”

I blink at her, failing to gather myself. The tears are still running free, and I can’t seem to stop them.

“You won’t let me in because you think that’s what a parent’s supposed to do. You want to protect me, but sisters take care ofeach other. They’ve got each other’s backs.”

This is one of those moments where I wonder if my sister’s been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone, but, of course, I don’t tell her that.

“I don’t want to drag you into this. I know you and Kelsea are friends?—”

“We are, but you’re my family. Always. Just let me help.”

It’s as though every trace of resistance in my body just melted away. I lay it all out for her, telling her our story in detail—making sure to leave out the dirty stuff, of course—and baring my soul to her in a way I haven’t in ages.

My sister might be an immature brat sometimes, but if there’s one thing she excels at, it’s listening. She’s one of those people who make you feel like you’re the only person on Earth when you’re telling them a story. She gives you her undivided attention, and she just loves to give you advice. It’s like she thinks she’s a shrink or something.

To say I’m surprised to find out that she knew about TJ’s mom having suffered severe brain damage would be an understatement. Apparently, Kelsea fessed up at one of their sleepovers weeks ago, but she made her promise not to tell anyone.

“This is the mug Dad made on your last birthday together, isn’t it?” Sierra picks up the glued-together mug on the table once I’m done spilling my guts. “Did TJ fix it for you?”

I give a small nod.

“You’ve gotta give it to him, this is cute as hell,” she comments.

For some reason, that only makes me cry harder.

Sierra scoots her chair closer to mine to hug me in response.

I can’t remember the last time we hugged like this. It must’ve been at my dad’s funeral.

“You know what you need?” she says when we separate. “A night out. Why didn’t you stay with the girls? Have some fun?”

“They were going to a basketball game at seven tonight.”

“Why didn’t you go?” she asks.

“I didn’t want to see TJ, but now I have to. I need to tell him that I want to be with him.”

She rises off her seat. “Then what are we waiting for? We have a basketball game to get to.”

“What? We can’t go.”

“Why the hell not?”

Are we really doing this?

“Just think about it. It’ll be so romantic. You showing up to support him. Let me just ask Oli if he wants to come.”

We all know what the answer will be. It’d take three grown men to drag this kid away from his computer.

This is all happening so fast a shaky “O-Okay” is all I manage to reply.

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