But she won and she asked, and I can’t reward her with anything less than thetruth.
“She’s mytutor.”
Annie’s smile melts away as she straightens. “But I walked into the pool house that morning after Carly’s party and she wasthere.”
I take a drink of my soda, eye her over the cup. “I met her my first week here. Knew I’d need some help in chemistry and physics, and she tutorsboth.”
“She came over at midnight?” Annie arches a dark brow, and I mimic her inresponse.
“I wanted someone to talk to without a stake in all this. It was a fucked-up week. She came, then shecrashed.”
She stares at me a long moment, and I nod to the table, impatient. “It’s still yourshot.”
Anniemisses.
I circle the table before lining up my shot across fromher.
I sink thefive.
There are a million things I could ask her, but the one I’m most interested in is, “Tell me why you’re really pissed at yourdad.”
She screws up her face. “Because he won’t let me anywhere nearmusic.”
“You can’t blame him forthat.”
“I don’t. I blameyou.”
Surprise has mestiffening.
“You were better at everything, always, than I was,” she continues. “Since you moved here, all of his time that he’s not working, or with Sophie, or with Haley, he’s withyou.”
It’s still my turn, but Annie circles the table, never lifting her attention from the possible shots, even when she has to step sideways to avoidme.
“But I realized something tonight,” she goes on. “It’s not your fault. He wouldn’t have let me inanyway.”
“I couldn’t come between you if I wanted to.” There’s a sense of urgency beneath mywords.
She chalks up her cue, oblivious, and I step between her and thetable.
I take the cue from her hands so she’s forced to meet my gaze. “You have to know that,” Ipress.
Her expression shifts from determined to resigned. “It’s not only about the music. At my dad and Haley’s wedding last summer, a woman approached me and said she was my biologicalmother.”
My stomach ices over. “What thefuck?”
“She handed me a letter that’s sat unopened in my drawer for a year. I haven’t told anyone except for you right now. Maybe it’s like the voicemails from your dad. I want to believe it says that she loves me, that she’s proud. That we should get brunch sometime in New York or wherever she lives.” She shrugs a shoulder, the simple movement conveying way more than apathy. “But what if it says something terrible? Some secret I can’tunknow?”
The confusion in her voice rips at me. I hate that she’s had this burden for a year, even if it’s partly myfault.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I murmur even though I think I know theanswer.
She puts a hand on her hip, cocking her head. “You were busy being too cool forme.”
“Maybe I’m done being too cool foryou.”
Annie sucks in a breath but recovers fast, angling her chin up. “Maybe I’m donecaring.”
She starts to step away, but my fingers wrap around her upper arm, and her gaze flies to mine. She’s close enough I could pull her into my arms, and against my better judgment, I wantto.