“Lacey, don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Seth says through clenched teeth.
Sal frowns, confused.
Because both Lacey’s and Seth’s eyes are pinned on Luke.
Luke, who looks like he’s going up against the firing squad. Luke, who’s squeezing her hand so tight, gripping her closer, like she’s a balloon about to float away.
Sal glances up at Luke. She wants to ask what’s wrong. Why he’s suddenly gone so still and so pale. “Tell me what?”
Lacey’s mouth opens and closes like a fish on dry land.
Half-amused, half-exasperated, Sal almost stamps her foot. She lifts a hand. “I’m sick of everyone treating me like I’m going to break. I’m not some fragile creature. I’m sick of secrets. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
Beside her, Luke’s voice comes broken. “Sal, I—”
“I had a funeral for you.”
The outburst comes from Lacey, who yelps and claps a hand across her mouth.
“Fuck.” Seth braces himself on the counter, a look of relief on his face, his eyes on Luke.
But Sal’s eyes are on Lacey.
Perplexed, she tilts her head. “What’re you talking about?”
Lacey’s lower lip trembles. “I buried you. I had a funeral for you.”
“When?” Sal asks, feeling an odd combination of confusion and amusement.
“Six months after the plane crash. We all thought you were dead. And I mean, who wouldn’t, right? You were in a plane crash.” Green eyes filling with tears, Lacey whispers, “I’m so sorry, Sal. I had to. I just had to. After Mom—” She breaks off as her body’s wracked by a sob. “I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear it without you.”
Lacey buries her face in her hands, causing Seth to take an inadvertent step toward her.
Only Sal makes it there first.
She gathers Lacey in her arms. “It’s okay. Lace, it’s okay, you hear me?” When Lacey glances up, her face tear-streaked and swollen, Sal smooths her hair back. “At least tell me people came.”
Lacey chokes on a laugh. “You don’t hate me, do you?”
“Of course I don’t hate you.” She laughs gently. “Is this why you’ve been acting so weird?”
She nods. “I was mad at myself. I was mad you were gone. And I took it out on Luke.” Taking a shuddery breath, she stares up past Sal’s shoulder. Shame reddens her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Luke. I’ve been awful when you’ve been nothing but nice to me. And I’ve done—believed—awful things.”
A flicker of forgiveness passes between Luke and Lacey.
Luke, swallowing hard, nods. “Don’t worry about it, Lace.”
“Hey, what about me?” Seth says.
“You’re an asshole,” Lacey shoots back. To Sal, she says, “And so am I.”
“But you’re my asshole.” Sal hugs her sister. When she pulls back, she gives Lacey a little shake. “I love you. And I love Luke. And you have to get along. Otherwise it’s just going to be like the Christmas Incident of 2015 all over again.”
Everyone in the kitchen freezes.
Then, straightening up, Seth lets out a long exhale. “Ho-ly shit.”
Sal’s vaguely aware everyone’s staring at her.