Page 7 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

She starts to hyperventilate. Someoneclearlyhas a flair for the dramatics.

Tears begin to pool in her eyes. “I must’ve left it at the party. We have to go back!”

I decide to put her out of her misery. “Relax, I know the guy who found it. I asked him to hold on to it. You’ll get your phone back.”

Her eyes widen. “A-Are you serious?”

“Yes. But you’re grounded. No leaving the house except to go to school for a month.”

As expected, she bitches about it for the rest of the drive home. I don’t waver one bit, tuning her out as I’m pulling into our driveway. I push the gear into park and kill the engine before taking my phone out of the car mount.

Sierra’s voice is but a distant echo as we trail to the front door together. “Who the fuck transfers schools right in the middle of the school year, anyway? A freak, that’s who. I’m going to be a fucking reject with no friends and…”

I have no idea what she says next, my focus directed at the text messages that just popped up on my phone.

All from an unknown number.

Unknown

Hey, it’s TJ. Dia gave me your number. Thought you should know I took your sister’s phone home.

Unknown

Oh, and I know exactly how you can repay me.

“Lace!Lace, I need help! I still can’t find Dad’s watch.” The sound of my brother’s frantic footsteps carries across the house, the panic and urgency in his voice growing by the second.

Oliver’s always had a special knack for losing things—he has the attention span of a goldfish and can’t do two things at once to save his life—but if there’s one thing I never thought he’d lose, it’s our dad’s watch.

He’s worn it every day without fail for the past two years. It’s one of the only things he has left of our dad. Only issue is, it’s too big. I’ve asked him many times to let me take it to a watchmaker to get the strap resized, but he’s always refused, saying he wouldn’t feel comfortable without it.

Which brings us to this moment right here.

To the inevitable.

He lost it two days ago. We’ve turned over every couch cushion, searched every nook and cranny of the house, and it still hasn’t come up.

“Be there in a minute,” I shout from the kitchen, checking that the cheese on the lasagna in the oven has melted evenly.

Sierra turns the corner, joining me in the kitchen just as I’m reaching for the oven mitts. “Smells good. I’m starving.”

My sister parks herself next to me and watches as I take the lasagna out of the oven. She notices the set table a moment later.

“What’s with the fancy layout?”

She’s right about the fancy part. I made an effort. Used the nicest silverware and plates we have in honor of Mrs. Harrison, our neighbor and an angel sent from above. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve lost my mind a long time ago.

She’s this lovely widow who lives across the street from us and my go-to whenever I need someone to watch the kids. We got to talking after she brought us a pie to welcome us to the neighborhood, and she mentioned feeling extremely lonely since her husband’s passing.

I invited her inside and introduced her to my siblings. She offered to help me out that same day. The rest is history. She frequently comes over to watch Oli—although I’m starting to think Sierra’s the one needing a babysitter—and thanks to her, I’m able to work weekends and a few nights a week. I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving the kids alone so often.

I set the lasagna down to rest. “Mrs. Harrison’s coming over for lunch. She’s agreed to watch you while I go pick up your phone.”

Sierra rolls her eyes. “That’s going to take, what? An hour? You don’t need to call her every time you go out.”

“Considering I had to drag you out of a club last night, I think I do.”

“Yeah, but that’s not going to happen again. I’m already grounded for a month. I’ve learned my lesson,” Sierra argues.

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