Page 27 of Atlas
She shrugs, the motion delicate. “She started calling me that when we were kids. Said I looked like the girl in some film she watched, one with a tragic ending, obviously.”
I huff a laugh. “Sounds about right for your sister.”
“She’s got a flair for the dramatic,” Rue agrees. “Always has.”
A breeze picks up, and she pushes her glasses up her nose again. It’s such a soft, habitual gesture that I find myself watching it like it means something.
“You in school or working?” I ask.
She blinks, surprised. “I teach. Year six. English and art.”
I grin. “Let me guess . . . bookworm.”
Her smile grows, a little bashful. “Guilty. I read everything. It drives Kasey mad.”
“She said something about a sister who never leaves the library,” I murmur. “Didn’t expect her to look like you, though.”
Rue’s eyebrows rise. “Like me?”
“Yeah. Was expecting . . . older. Stricter. Less,” I wave a hand vaguely, “you.”
That earns a laugh. It’s light, genuine, spilling out of her. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.”
I lean back against the wall beside the door, arms crossed. “So, how’d a quiet girl like you end up with a sister knee-deep in biker drama?”
She looks down, her expression softening. “She’s like a magnet for trouble.”
“She get that from your dad?”
“Most likely. Although her mum was the queen of trouble. Before she ran off, that is. She never really bonded with Kasey. I spent my teens raising her the best I could.” She sighs. “When Dad called to say she’d ran again, only this time he was done with her, I panicked. He said she was in all kinds of trouble and men were going after her. Of course, he’s distanced himself. He wouldn’t want to put himself in the firing line.” She shrugs. “I’m not street-smart, but she is. I’m more the write-a-letter, call-a-hotline type.”
“So, you called the club.”
Her eyes meet mine. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did the right thing,” I say. “You trusted the right people.”
She nods slowly, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’m trying to find out how to get her out of this mess. Dad isn’t returning my calls.”
“She’s safe. No one is coming for her here.”
“But this can’t be forever, right? I’m working on getting some money together so we can leave London, maybe even the UK.”
I don’t like the thought of them out there unprotected. “She’s under our roof now. That means she’s one of ours.”
Rue studies me—not like I’m a threat, but like I’m a puzzle she wants to understand. “You sound like you take that seriously.”
“I do.”
She brushes a loose curl off her cheek and gives me a shy smile. “You’re not what I expected, either.”
“Oh?”
“I thought you’d be scary, dangerous.”
“I am.”
She tilts her head, considering. “Maybe. But there’s more to you, isn’t there?”
