Page 95 of The Fake Out

“I said I’d take care of it,” Iris ground out.

“And now you don’t have to. I did it for you. That’s the kind of sister I am.”

Aidan stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Cool shirt. I like My Chemical Romance.”

“Seriously, you?” Iris asked incredulously. “You’re dressed like the President of the Future Proctologists’ club.”

He smiled. “And you’re dressed like a knock-off emo kid from circa 2007, but I’ll still tutor you.”

Iris sputtered and I held in a bark of laughter. I had to give the kid credit. He didn’t appear to be intimidated by her in the least. Maybe this would work out.

“See?” I grabbed a box of cake samples and shoved them in Iris’s direction. “You’re getting along famously. Now, go eat some cake and figure out which two days a week you’ll be here after school.”

Aidan strolled out, leaving Iris behind. She hitched up her backpack. “Thanks for making my life the worst.”

I hugged her and after I refused to let go, she finally hugged me back even. “You’re welcome.”

With yet another eye-roll, she trudged out of the office and then poked her head back in. “Have you heard from Dad?”

I’d tried to call him no fewer than four times. I’d left two messages. I’d even attempted to reach out to Uncle Gary, Dad’s brother, who was only slightly less criminally minded than my father. No luck. “I haven’t. I promise I’m trying.”

“Yeah, okay.” But I didn’t miss the hurt creeping into her eyes.

This is exactly why I hadn’t even wanted to contact him. All he’d ever done was disappoint us, again and again. I could deal with it; but Iris was different, softer than she pretended to be. Like a coconut.

And we were setting her up for a broken heart.

FORTY-TWO

Are your parents bakers? Because you’re a cutie pie.

—JULIA B.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into reading this.” I stared at the cover of our latest book club read, a serial romance called Checking Out the Librarian.

“Come on, you liked it.” Chris took a bite of his second double cheeseburger.

The weather had been especially nice today. So, we’d decided to pick up some takeout and I brought him to the little park just outside town, locally famous because it was home to the Legacy Tree, a Two Harts’ historical site.

“Did not,” I said out of stubbornness.

With a stern look, he pointed a French fry at me.

“Fine. It wasn’t that bad.”

“I knew it.” He grinned, his dimple making an appearance. “I like it when she yelled at him in the middle of the library. Scandalous. Yelling in the library.”

“If you want, I can yell at you at the library.”

“You yell at me enough as it is.” He balled up his napkin and tossed it on the table.

“I do not!”

“See?”

Glaring, I stood. “Are you done?”

“You sure are bossy.”