Page 93 of Open Secrets
I nod slowly.
Her voice comes out sharp enough to make the entire diner turn their heads. “Are youfucking kidding me?”
“Anna—” I hiss, glancing around as people glance over.
She doesn’t care. Her eyes flash as she leans across the table. “Did it never occur to you to tell me this before? Jesus, Lyle.”
I say, weakly, “She was your best friend.”
Anna’s jaw tightens. Her voice cracks like a whip. “And you’re my family. Maria is my family. Jesus, Lyle—I was pissed when I thought Bethanyaccidentallytold Mom, but I forgave her because she’s a religious nut who couldn’t keep her mouth shut. But this?” She shakes her head, eyes burning. “She purposefully isolated Maria while she was going through the worst time of her life. How could you not say anything?”
My throat feels like sandpaper. “So, you’re gonna—?” I start, hoping for some sign of mercy.
“I’m gonnamore than uninvite her.” Anna’s voice rises, and I know she doesn’t care that half the diner can probably hear us. “She’s getting a reality check and a punch from me, if I don’t talk myself out of it first.”
Just then, our food arrives, like the universe has the worst sense of timing. The waiter slides a plate of chicken-fried steak in front of me and sets down Anna’s plate of stacked pancakes, the butter melting down the sides. He drops off a basket of biscuits, too—because this is Texas, and apparently carbs are mandatory.
“Thanks,” I mutter automatically. Anna thanks him, sweet as pie, and then the second he walks away she’s back on me.
Fork poised above her plate, she shakes her head. “I mean, I knew Bethany was spiralling. She hated getting older, hated not being married, hated the pity looks. But to try and ruin your marriage? That’s not just desperate, that’s cruel.”
I push the gravy around my plate, no appetite left. “She told me she didn’t care.”
Anna snorts, stabbing into her pancakes. “Oh, she cares. Of course she cares. All those church people asking her when she’s settling down and having kids, then I get engaged to Clay…” She hacks off another bite, chewing like she’s offended by the syrup itself. “…She couldn’t stand it. So, she’s been avoiding me.”
Pouring a generous amount of syrup on top of her pancakes Anna mutters. “I was giving her space. Being nice. But I’m done.”
“Why do all the women in my life have knives in their hand when they’re threatening someone.?” I ask, half-joking, more than half worried.
With her mouth full, Anna shoots me a look. “What?”
I clench my teeth. “Close your mouth. I actually have a reputation.”
She smirks, syrup glittering on her fork. “What reputation?” She chews slow, eyes dancing. Then she lets out a laugh and a piece of pancake flies off her fork, sails across the table, and lands on my napkin like it was aimed.
For a second I just stare at the pancake on my lap, then at her—equal parts annoyed and amused.
“You can’t take me,” she says casually, wiping syrup off her chin.
“Please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’d cry in five minutes.”
She grins. “You’d probably cry first.”
We both laugh, the sound easy and good, and it beats the alternative.
Anna leans forward, tone levelling. “Look, Lyle—I’m gonna take care of Bethany, but you can’t keep doing this.”
I nod quickly. “I won’t ever befriend an ex again. Ever.”
She rolls her eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t stick. “That’s not what I mean. I mean your typical‘I’m right, end of story’bullshit.”
“What?” I ask, genuinely thrown.
She sets down her fork, fixes me with that little-sister glare that hasn’t lost its edge since we were kids. “Ever since we were little, you’ve taken a stand and come hell or high water—or who it hurts—you don’t budge. In high school, Mom and Mr Silva clashed so bad she almost pulled us out of school, but you refused to stop seeing Maria. And I supported that, because back then it was about love. And about sticking it to mom.”
She leans in, voice sharp. “But now? You’re an adult. Start acting like it.”
I scrunch my brows, irritation prickling. “What the hell are you talking about?”
