Page 279 of The Grand Duel

“He left, Jove. Not the other way around. Why would I go chasing after him?”

“Because he’s rotting in a world of guilt. A text,” she pleads. “Why not try a text message.”

I shake my head. “No.”

I can’t.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to leaning on my shoulder. “You can take the girl out of the traumatic childhood, but you can’t take the traumatic childhood?—”

With a light chuckle, I push her away. “What is wrong with you?”

She stands, taking the wine bottle with her. “Wrong? I’m just quick witted and gorgeous.”

I smile, watching as she takes another sip.

“Text him.”

Standing, I take the wine from her and walk into the kitchen. “What would I say, Jove?” I ask, humouring her.

“Ooo…” She follows, shutting the back door behind the dogs. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes.”

I laugh.

“Come home,Cop boy.”

“That’s actually gross now.”

“You brought that one to the table all by yourself and with confidence.” She points at me. “Don’t act like I’m the weird one. With your weird little Charlie boy fetish.”

“Go to bed.”

“Text him.”

“Good night, Jovie.”

She laughs and heads for the stairs. “I love you, Lis.”

“I love you, too.” I stare at the countertop, remembering. “More,” I add, whispering the words.

I sigh, listening to her disappear into the spare room, the floorboards creaking above my head.

Other than the odd text message, I barely spoke to my sister for two months. And for a time, I felt sick to my stomach over it, knowing it would take a while to mend our relationship.

Turns out it didn’t take more than ten minutes. Not really. We might have needed to have the conversation we had tonight, but the minute Jovie put her arms around me when she showed up in the living room, I knew we’d be all right.

I knew that she was my sister, and that was all that mattered.

I stare down at my phone on the kitchen counter, wondering if sending Charlie a message could be a good idea like Jovie suggested.

For the past three weeks, I’ve had his friends message and show up at my door constantly, checking in, bringing me meals.

He cares, I know he does, but I think I’m just afraid of what I’ll feel if he doesn’t respond.

I pick up my phone, my heart in my throat as I swipe across the screen.

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