Page 45 of A Lethal Game of Trust
“I won’t care about what you apparently regret,” he snapped but then handed me back my phone. His voice softened as he said, “Tell me how I can help.”
“You—you can’t,” I pressed. My father’s passing was what had ruined us. His incapability of emotion, of being able to comfort me. I couldn’t trust him anywhere near this. Icouldn’t trust him at all.
“Please.”
“No,” I snapped. “I don’t need your help. This was a mistake.”
“Was it?” he asked with a sad smile. “I think you’ll be back soon enough. But if you want me to make you come again, cancel the date.”
“I can do a better job myself.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said and left me.
15
Wingwomaning
Leonie
Issy was so excited to see Ghost that she didn’t notice my bra hanging out of Dom’s pocket. He went to my room without a word after putting down the cat basket and opening the small gate.
She swooped the feline up in her arms, made some cooing noises and tickled his chest before she rolled her eyes as her brother slammed the door.
“I think your daddy needs to get laid,” she squeaked, throwing a thumb over her shoulder towards my bedroom. “Let’s go out tonight and wingwoman him.”
Oh, Issy. God help me.
“This will be the first time the three of us are single!” she cried, then added, her voice lower, “And on speaking terms.”
I filled up Ghost’s water bowl and placed it down. He scrambled to get out of her arms and, begrudgingly, she popped him on the wood floor before he made a jump for it.
If I could, I would throw myself face-first into a bowl ofwater. Instead, I pulled the dishwasher open and retrieved my newly cleaned blender. A milkshake was the only thing to cure the heat still rolling across my body. Ice cream, milk and peanut butter would be enough to cool me down. Dad always made them to cheer me up. I could really do with that.
“Are you both on speaking terms?” she asked softly, leaning against the back of the sofa, our temporary divide between the two functions of the room.
I threw the ingredients in the blender, not bothering to measure them and let the machine whirl my milkshake together.
Through the loud noise, I didn’t hear her approach. She swatted my hand away and I winced as she touched the scrape from Jared shoving the drawer closed. “What happened?” she cried and gently took my hand. “Did you punch Jared?”
“No,” I said and pulled back, turning on the blender again.
Next thing, she was at my bedroom door, shouting at Dom over the noise. I watched the ice cream spin, breaking down until it was liquid.
Dom took my hand, and I almost cringed at him touching me in front of his sister. I couldn’t look at her as he rubbed antiseptic into the wound and then wrapped some gauze around and around as I tried to pour my milkshake one-handed.
“Priorities, Leonie Lion,” he muttered as Issy looked on.
“I haven’t heard anyone but Derek call her that for ages,” Is said. “I almost forgot how cute it is.”
Over my shoulder, I glared at her.
She shrugged. “How did that happen?”
“Jared,” Dom practically growled, his hands still gently wrapping.
“So he’s dead now, right?” she asked casually.
“Not yet,” Dom said as I blurted, “No.”
