Page 58 of Drowning Her

I faced forward, completely dumbstruck. My sister was flawless. The straight As student. The obedient rule follower. The chore-doer. The class president. The all-around overachiever. I hadn’t checked her social media profiles in a while, but the last I had seen, she was in medical school. She had started her first year.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “You want to become a doctor, right?”

“My head’s not in it.”

I could understand that. Still, it confused me coming from her.

“I thought you always wanted to be a doctor,” I said.

“Mom and Dad wanted me to.”

I sunk down in my seat. Fiona failing out of medical school seemed surreal. What other beliefs did I have about my family that weren’t real?

But Fiona was asking for my help. She wasn’t asking me for my opinion.

“So what’s up?” I asked. “You’re failing? You, like, need a study buddy or something?”

She laughed, then shook her head. “Mom and Dad are in debt.”

I shrugged. “That was their choice. They decided to put you through school.”

“They don’t know that I dropped out.”

My stomach sank. The secret pinned it all in place. “How long has it been?”

“A month.”

A month was a long time for her to keep such a secret. Was there any way Icouldhelp her? One day, our parents would find out, and she would have to explain what had happened to them. There wouldn’t be an easy way out; I had learned that with our little sister. And somehow, they had forgiven me. And if they could forgive me, then they had to do the same for Fiona.

Maybe that was what Wilder needed: to learn how to forgive himself.

“I’m a failure,” Fiona whispered, breaking into my thoughts.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. I was the runaway middle child who had gotten her little sister killed, started doing sex work because my best friend fell for a pimp, and married a hitman. Fiona simply couldn’t pretend to want to be a doctor anymore.

So no one was perfect. Not even Fiona. And especially not me.

Wilder had to learn that being imperfect was okay.

“They’ve always held you to unreasonable standards,” I continued. Just like Wilder had done to himself. He neededto see his circumstances honestly; yes, he was a killer—there was no denying that. But he had been a kid when all of that had happened with his mother. It wasn’t fair for him to hold on to that guilt, just like it wasn’t fair to Fiona.

And maybe that’s what was happening to us. He was showing me he cared in the only way he knew how: by pushing me away.

He was saving me.

The weight vanished from my shoulders. I wasn’t good with pep talks, but Fiona knew that.

“One day, they’re going to figure it out,” I said. “But you can always stay with me if you need to hide. Anything like that. I’ll protect you.” I winked, and she smiled. “I’m sure my husband won’t mind.” At least, I hoped he wouldn’t.

And for now, Wilder was still my husband. I had to make sure he stayed that way. No one understood me like he did, and he must have felt the same way about me.

Fiona lifted a brow. “You’re married?”

“A lot can happen in five years.”

“You’re telling me,” she laughed. “But thank you for offering that.”

I glanced around, trying to figure out where to go. I couldn’t go back to the Feldman Farm, but I needed to see Wilder again. Where could I go?

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