us.” I tapped the photo. “
He
could be our—”
“He’s not.”
“What?”
Blake raised his head, his eyes meeting mine. “He’s not our dad. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”
“How do you know?”
He handed the photo back to me. “Mom was married, but it only lasted a year. I was born a decade later.”
My mouth fell open, but my brain couldn’t seem to push any words out. Blake already
knew.
He must have known for a long time.
“Mom told you about this? She told
you
and not me?”
“She was waiting to tell you because…well, you tend to…”
I could feel the blood pounding in my temples. “I tend to
what?
”
“Go nuclear.” He put his fists together and exploded the fingers outward. “I guess she was waiting until you were older and could, you know, handle the truth.”
My heart was throbbing right along with the veins in my head. “Seriously? You’re hardly older than me but she tells you everything, and I’m always left out.” The words were spilling from my mouth, whiny and stupid as all heck, but I couldn’t hold them in. “You love that, don’t you? She can tell secrets to steady old Blake, but not to rage-monster Avery. I really hate you sometimes.”
“Just get out, Avery. I can’t deal with your tantrums.”
I was
this
close to slamming the door and earning myself another week of dish duty, which would have been fabulous on top of all the extra garden work, but somehow I managed to take a breath and shut the door without breaking it off its hinges.
It was no use trying to get more information from Blake. Once he was riled up, his default setting was jerkface. But Mom was coming to the farm in a few days, and when she got here she was going to get a piece of my mind, for sure.
It sounded good in theory, anyway.
I pretty much had to drag myself to Hollyhock Cottage the next day, what with that stolen key weighing like an anchor in my pocket. In the past, Grandma had always found me out, whether it was something simple like sneaking a cookie before lunch, or something twisted like slipping into Hilliard House and falling asleep for hours. What made me think I was safe now? Sure, it was hard to say no when Julian glowed with inspiration and treated me like a fellow filmmaker, but right then I was feeling a powerful urge to put the key back and call the whole thing off.
All that worrying pretty much fell out of my head when I knocked on the door of Hollyhock Cottage and it opened to a pretty girl who was several years younger than me. Her smile lit up her whole face.
“Are you Avery?” she asked.
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“I’m Lily. Didn’t Julian tell you he had a sister?”
I stared like an idiot. She had long, dark hair that spilled over her shoulders in shiny ringlets. Her skin was several shades darker than Julian’s.
“You don’t look like him.”
The dazzling smile vanished. “Julian told me you weren’t a hick like everyone else around here.”
Heat flushed my face. “Oh God, are you, like, adopted?”
Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”
I was starting to feel like the eight-year-old in this conversation, and the wheels in my brain were spinning like a truck in mud. I blinked, hoping I was hallucinating after all the hard work in the garden that morning, but she still stood there with her arms crossed, looking nothing like Julian.
Except for those eyes.
Julian and his dad had green eyes. So did Lily, but hers seemed huge in her little-girl face and were framed by long, thick lashes. She would be drop-dead gorgeous one day, and she was already better dressed than any girl I’d ever known. Her T-shirt and shorts looked about as expensive as Curtis Wayne’s designer jeans, and even her flip-flops had fake diamonds on them. At least, I hoped they were fake.
“Right, I’m sorry. You’re just so much…
prettier
than Julian.”
She smiled at that. “Of course I am. Girls are pretty, and boys are handsome, and Dad says
He
could be our—”
“He’s not.”
“What?”
Blake raised his head, his eyes meeting mine. “He’s not our dad. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”
“How do you know?”
He handed the photo back to me. “Mom was married, but it only lasted a year. I was born a decade later.”
My mouth fell open, but my brain couldn’t seem to push any words out. Blake already
knew.
He must have known for a long time.
“Mom told you about this? She told
you
and not me?”
“She was waiting to tell you because…well, you tend to…”
I could feel the blood pounding in my temples. “I tend to
what?
”
“Go nuclear.” He put his fists together and exploded the fingers outward. “I guess she was waiting until you were older and could, you know, handle the truth.”
My heart was throbbing right along with the veins in my head. “Seriously? You’re hardly older than me but she tells you everything, and I’m always left out.” The words were spilling from my mouth, whiny and stupid as all heck, but I couldn’t hold them in. “You love that, don’t you? She can tell secrets to steady old Blake, but not to rage-monster Avery. I really hate you sometimes.”
“Just get out, Avery. I can’t deal with your tantrums.”
I was
this
close to slamming the door and earning myself another week of dish duty, which would have been fabulous on top of all the extra garden work, but somehow I managed to take a breath and shut the door without breaking it off its hinges.
It was no use trying to get more information from Blake. Once he was riled up, his default setting was jerkface. But Mom was coming to the farm in a few days, and when she got here she was going to get a piece of my mind, for sure.
It sounded good in theory, anyway.
I pretty much had to drag myself to Hollyhock Cottage the next day, what with that stolen key weighing like an anchor in my pocket. In the past, Grandma had always found me out, whether it was something simple like sneaking a cookie before lunch, or something twisted like slipping into Hilliard House and falling asleep for hours. What made me think I was safe now? Sure, it was hard to say no when Julian glowed with inspiration and treated me like a fellow filmmaker, but right then I was feeling a powerful urge to put the key back and call the whole thing off.
All that worrying pretty much fell out of my head when I knocked on the door of Hollyhock Cottage and it opened to a pretty girl who was several years younger than me. Her smile lit up her whole face.
“Are you Avery?” she asked.
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“I’m Lily. Didn’t Julian tell you he had a sister?”
I stared like an idiot. She had long, dark hair that spilled over her shoulders in shiny ringlets. Her skin was several shades darker than Julian’s.
“You don’t look like him.”
The dazzling smile vanished. “Julian told me you weren’t a hick like everyone else around here.”
Heat flushed my face. “Oh God, are you, like, adopted?”
Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”
I was starting to feel like the eight-year-old in this conversation, and the wheels in my brain were spinning like a truck in mud. I blinked, hoping I was hallucinating after all the hard work in the garden that morning, but she still stood there with her arms crossed, looking nothing like Julian.
Except for those eyes.
Julian and his dad had green eyes. So did Lily, but hers seemed huge in her little-girl face and were framed by long, thick lashes. She would be drop-dead gorgeous one day, and she was already better dressed than any girl I’d ever known. Her T-shirt and shorts looked about as expensive as Curtis Wayne’s designer jeans, and even her flip-flops had fake diamonds on them. At least, I hoped they were fake.
“Right, I’m sorry. You’re just so much…
prettier
than Julian.”
She smiled at that. “Of course I am. Girls are pretty, and boys are handsome, and Dad says
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