“Don’t go there, Sydney … just don’t.” I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, placing both hands on my hips, slowly counting to ten.
“I mean, if we can just get to the bottom of who gave her the locket, we’d solve this mystery. Can you think of anybody with those initials? Her best friend, an aunt, an uncle?”
I couldn’t look at her right now, not when she had already convicted my sister in her head without a trial.
“Austin …” Her voice pleaded for me to understand even though I never would. We were on opposing teams.
“There’s a heart between their initials,” she said.
I crossed my arms over my chest. I could see the war of emotions swimming behind her eyes.
“You ask her, and then she’ll hate me. If they get married, we’ll be family, and I don’t want to be in a hostile situation every holiday.”
I pulled at my collar, wanting this shit over with so I could prove to her that nothing was going on between Brandy and James.
I thought hard for a few seconds. “When we find out who gave this locket to my sister, you’ll stop snooping and trying to sabotage their relationship.” It wasn’t a request.
Her strong stance wavered slightly. “I’m not trying to sabotage their relationship. I’m merely trying to get to the truth.”
“Promise me.” I was so close that I could smell the mint on her lips. “I just want her to be happy. That’s all.”
My sister had grown up without a father, and it was my job to ensure that she had everything she needed and wanted in life. It had mostly just been the two of us growing up, thanks to our neglectful mother.
“That’s all I want for my brother too.”
And I saw it right there—the deep emotion in her hazel eyes.
I tipped my chin. “And we’re going to find out today ’cause I’m going to ask her.” I glanced around at the hopeful crowd starting to gather and frowned with frustration. “First things first. I need a cap.”
CHAPTER6
SYDNEY
I triedto argue with Austin, plead with him to do a little snooping, but he wasn’t having it. We were going to find out sooner than later what was up with Brandy and James.
I was following Austin through the mall when an older male stopped him.
“Austin … man, my son would love an autograph. Would you mind?”
Austin stopped and gritted his teeth, grabbing the pen from the stout man holding out what seemed to look like a receipt.
“To who?” Austin’s face was strained, as though he’d just had Botox and he couldn’t move any muscles there.
“My son’s name is Timothy. He loves you. He’s in fifth grade, and he plays for the Lions—they’re a travel team.” He was beaming with pride, and a part of me went soft as I thought of the little boy’s reaction once he’d receive Austin’s signature.
Austin handed the guy his autograph with a simple, “I’m sure he’s amazing.” Like his words were rehearsed.
He took off then, long strides with his annoyingly never-ending legs, and I had to jog to catch up with him.
We ended up at The Cap Place. It was a small enough store, where I could still keep my eye on Brandy and James eating their meal in the corner. Austin reached for a hat, the Bobcats—not his team, by the way. I thought his ego would have picked the Tigers one right next to it.
The teen cashier with glasses was shocked. He stood there, mouth agape, staring at Austin as though he were the Almighty.
“Just this,” Austin said, not making eye contact and staring at the credit card he’d tossed on the counter.
When silence met Austin’s words, he lifted his eyes. The poor kid jumped and quickly rang Austin up.
“H-hi. You’re Austin Callaway,” he stammered.