Page 119 of Beautiful, Violent

“Wait. You were going to pull a no-show? And you wanted to see how I’d react? Okay, that’s fucked up.”

“No.” She grits her teeth and huffs. “I’m not explaining myself well. I was planning to cancel. But Mr. Dane convinced me to follow through with it. He said he’d come here and tell you it was me, so that I wouldn’t have to. That I could excuse myself to the restroom while he broke the news and you could decide if you wanted to talk with me after. But then I called him, while you were making your coffee, and told him I wanted to tell you myself. It took me fifteen minutes to work up the nerve and I kept having second thoughts the whole time. This … this isn’t easy for me. You intimidate me.”

I pull back. “I intimidate you? How?”

She smiles sadly. “Your father practically worships you. If you don’t approve of me, if yourejectme, your father will be right behind.”

Not to lay it on extra heavy-handed or anything, right, Greer?

I turn away from her, sip my now cold coffee. I can deal with a betrayal from Greer, even though she is my sister, because she’s still mostly a stranger to me.

But if my dad knows about this and didn’t say anything? That’s unfathomable.

“You hate me, don’t you.”

“No. It’s not you I’m upset with. I’ve known you all of two weeks. And I’ve known you exist for less than that, as a sister anyways. We might share DNA but if I’ve learned nothing over the years, I’ve learned that blood is not always thicker than water.”

The real kicker is that a lot of my shit is at Daddy’s house, where she now lives. I can’t avoid her, even if I want to.

“I agree with you one hundred percent. My own flesh and blood rejected me. Your father is the only person who’s ever accepted me for who I am, flaws and all.”

The crease lines along her forehead give away her emotional state. And I’m punched with the reality that she’s talking about my mother.Ourmother. Who essentially rejected the both of us. The key difference is that my rejection almost cost me my life.

“I want to get to know you, Tove,” she adds. “That’s all I want.”

The way her voice crackles pulls a bit of sympathy from deep inside of me. I believe she’s telling the truth. But I can’t deny the slight hesitation I feel to allow another person into my life. A person who could potentially hurt me. I mean, she did have every opportunity to tell me the truth, to not play games with me or my emotions. But maybe it really was that hard for her.

“I want to get to know you too. But I have a ton of questions. And I need you to be straight-up with me if we’re to have any kind of relationship.”

“I—I’ll do my best.” I see her lean closer, like she wants a hug. But then her phone rings and I see Daddy’s name on the screen. “Oh, let’s find out what’s going on with your dad.”

I slap my hand over her phone. “No. Not after this bomb you just dropped. Dad can wait.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. This revelation prompts so many questions. Like, how long has she known about me? And the way she and my dad met. Was it really that serendipitous?

“Did you know who my father was when you met him? Was the whole story you fed me the truth?”

“The bathroom story?” She tosses a hand to her chest, then tugs at the ends of her hair.

“Yes, the bathroom story.”

A sigh comes out. “You sure you want to hear this now?”

“Yes. Especially the part where you found out I was your sister.”

She looks away from me, and her profile, as well as the way she twists her mouth just like I do, is jarring. “The bathroom story is true. I did walk in on him. But I knew who he was. I probed my foster parents when I was sixteen but they couldn’t tell me much other than my birth parents were from Phoenix. I tried finding them but didn’t have the funds back then, or know the right people. It was last year I hired Mr. Dane and he found them, and then foundyou. I pursued Stig to get to you and … ended up falling in love with him.” Greer rubs her forehead, a pained expression on her face as if she’s embarrassed to have fallen for my dad.

I just sit there and watch her, more and more convinced that being pathologically deceptive is a genetic trait.

“Why wouldn’t you just reach out to me?”

Her body sinks. “It’s complicated, Tove. For me, anyway. I’m not that simple, that cut and dried about handling emotional things.”

Boy does that sound familiar. “I get that. And what about your dad? Do you know him?”

She shakes her head, twists her fingers together. “He’s in Montana. We haven’t met. I’m not sure he even knows about me. I couldn’t afford to pay Mr. Dane what he was asking for that level of research.”

“I mean, you could probably do that yourself. Maybe I could help you too.”

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