Page 20 of Frosted and Sliced

Despite her words, Brody felt bad, and he half resented the newcomer for stirring everything up. Was he the one who put these thoughts in Georgette’s head, or were they already there and he’d merely uncovered them? Brody narrowed his eyes on him in suspicion, but the stranger returned his glare.

“Now that that is over, we can all be friends,” Georgette happily declared.

Not gonna happen,Brody thought. At least on this he and the new guy seemed to agree. They might not be openly at war, but he would remain cautious and on watch. When it came to his little sister, his motto was to trust his gut. Right now his gut told him the mysterious Burke wasn’t all he purported to be. No one sane gave up everything and moved into a dusty attic on a whim. One way or another, Brody would figure out what was up with the new guy. But for now, and outwardly, he kept the peace, for Georgette’s sake.

CHAPTER 9

“This was a terrible mistake,” Georgie declared. She and Burke sat at the kitchen table, she staring at her notebook, he cracking and eating nuts she kept out for guests.

“Yes,” he agreed.

She tossed him an annoyed look. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” he returned.

“It is,” she said.

He tossed a spent walnut shell at her head.

“Stop it,” she said, batting it away.

“Then stop being a girl and tell me what I’m supposed to say in this situation, because agreeing with you wasn’t it, but something tells me not agreeing with you won’t work, either.”

“You’re supposed to talk me down from the ledge and reassure me that while, yes, it was insane to agree to host part of this festival, I can definitely do it.”

“But what if you can’t?” he said, and now it was her turn to pelt him with a nut. Worse, he didn’t even have to put up his hands to bat it away, because she was that far off target. It sailed harmlessly to the side and toward the carpet. “Why did you volunteer to do it, if it makes you this crazy?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she said.

“Says who?” he asked.

“Everybody,” she exclaimed. “You’re supposed to be involved in your community.”

“Your community is mean and treats you like trash, like a perpetual outsider,” he reminded her.

“I know,” she said, “but this is supposed to fix it. If they understand what I have going on here, how hard I’ve worked, how helpful I can be…” she trailed off, feeling suddenly pathetic.

“Then maybe they’ll finally accept you?” he guessed.

She nodded, giving a watery sniff. She wasn’t crying, but it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge.

His look turned a little soft. She prepped herself for his gentle comfort, but that was a dire tactical error. “That’s so stupid,” he declared.

Georgie stood and would have stormed away, but Burke caught her arm and held her back, easing in front of her so she could read his lips. “Georgie, you already know who you are. The people who matter already know who you are. Who cares what a bunch of mean town people think? And why would you want to? Their opinion doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” she said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because…” Her glance slid to the window, toward outside and town. “After our parents died, all we had was this town. They took us in and cared for us. I saw that, and I appreciated it. It made me feel not so alone, but it took me a while to realize that care and concern was always directed toward Brody, never me. I got all the pity, there was always plenty of that. But nobody ever took the time to get to know me as a person. I was always the deaf girl, the orphan, Brody’s needy little sister. I want,” she paused and took a steadying breath, “I want them to see me forme, to know that I have value, that I contribute something here, all on my own.”

She bit her lip, still staring toward the town. Burke used his finger to tip her face toward his, so she could read his lips.

“The problem with that is that whatever is gained can be lost. You can make them love you, but that love can be lost. You can end up in an endless cycle of chasing approval and love. You know exactly who and what you are. That has to be enough. Anything else is hot fudge on the sundae.”

She wound her fist in his cozy shirt—where did he find such comfy cotton—and gave it a tug. “I love hot fudge.”

His smile turned a little soft again. She braced herself, because soft smile didn’t always equal soft words with him, but this time it did. “I know you do. Come to the attic with me. I need your opinion on stuff.”

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