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“She’s an incredibly bright young lady, as I’m sure you’re aware,” the teacher told me.

I knew that. But she sure wasn’t showing that by way of her grades—and that turned into an awful fight between us.

The teacher had gone on to tell me that she’d noticed Janelle hanging out with a group of kids she would consider questionable role models. I told her she needed to be more specific with me as to what that meant, because growing up, I hung out with all kinds of questionable characters too.

The teacher told me that some of the kids had been busted for marijuana possession and were often truant.

That was all I needed to hear.

Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get Janelle involved in something else so she won’t get involved with a bunch of deadbeats.

Luckily, I have her winter break to figure things out. Even more luckily, this opportunity with Clarke could be just the thing she needs.

“Are you interested?” I ask.

Her response is sullen. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” I look over at her, and it irritates me to no end that she won’t even give me her full attention, her gaze going back out the window. “I don’t understand why you seem so miserable here. All you do is stay withdrawn into yourself, and you won’t talk to me. If I didn’t know any better, it seems you hate me for bringing you here.”

Rather than listen to what I’m saying and giving some credence to my feelings, Janelle makes a dismissive sound and finally turns her gaze to me. I spare one moment to lock my eyes with hers before looking back at the road.

“This place sucks,” Janelle sneers. “I’ve had to leave all my friends behind, and you’re not even here half the time. I’m stuck with Mrs. Blair, who gets pissed if I sneeze wrong and at least back home, I had freedom.”

My patience has worn thin, and unfortunately, my temper is quick to fire. Janelle’s is, too, which is why our fights usually end up incredibly heated.

I slap my hand on the steering wheel and growl, “Goddamn it, Janelle. What the fuck do you want me to do? You begged me to get you out of that house. I pulled you out of a shit situation, and rather than be grateful, all I get is flak from you. Is it so bad here that you would choose to go back to Mom’s?”

Janelle doesn’t respond—she knows she can’t say she would want to go back. The situation at our mother’s house was untenable. So much so that even if she wanted to go back, I wouldn’t let her. I have legal custody of her now, and there’s no way I’m ever letting her return to our mother’s care.

I don’t press her to give me an answer to a question that would cause her embarrassment to admit that I’m right and she’s wrong. Instead, I redirect the conversation. “I know how much you love reading and books. Clarke is super cool, and I know you’d love working there. I think it would be fun and interesting, but I’m not going to make you do it.”

Janelle is silent a minute before she mutters, “How much does she pay?”

“Enough for you to start paying rent,” I quip.

My sister’s head whips my way, and she stares at me in astonishment. I wink at her. “Just kidding. I honestly don’t know what she pays. But if you’re interested, I’ll reach out to her tonight and get the details.”

“Since we’re on winter break,” Janelle asks hesitantly, “can you ask her if I can work more hours until school starts?”

“Really?” I ask, astonished at her sudden interest.

“That way I don’t have to stay with Mrs. Blair as much when you’re on your road trips over the holidays.”

“I know she’s not ideal,” I say, but Janelle rolls right over me, launching into a tirade that I’ve heard many times since we moved to Phoenix and I decided to hire someone to watch her when I was away. I get an earful about Mrs. Blair, who’s in her late fifties. She’s a widow and her children are grown and scattered around the United States. To occupy her time, she registered on a caregiver website as a nanny, and out of all the candidates I exhaustively interviewed, she was the absolute best pick, even though Janelle was incensed I felt the need for someone to watch over her.

“I’m almost eighteen, Riggs. I don’t need a babysitter,” she complained time and again.

And she had a point, but I was too worried about her settling into this new life with me in Phoenix to leave her all on her own while I was traveling. She needed someone to look after her and protect her when I couldn’t be there. It was non-negotiable for me.


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