Page 186 of With a Cherry On Top

The truck rattlesdown the dirt road, every bump jolting through my spine. The air inside feels thick—thicker than the humid spring breeze slipping through the open windows. Beside me, Amelie sits with her arms crossed, body angled toward the door like she’s one sudden movement away from flinging it open and jumping out.

She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t look at me. Just stares out at the endless stretch of fields rolling past, fingers drumming a tense, erratic rhythm against her arm.

The silence is unbearable.

I shift my grip on the wheel. “So,” I say, voice rough, “are we gonna talk, or are we pretending the other doesn’t exist?”

Amelie doesn’t even blink.

I scoff, adjusting my grip. “Right. Silent treatment. Very mature.”

Nothing.

The truck creaks as I steer around a bend, the only sound between us the crunch of tires over gravel and the occasional rustle of trees.

“I’m not giving up on Charlotte. And you know what? I don’t care if I’m not part of your family anymore. You’re part of mine, and I’m not giving up on you either. I’ll never stop trying to fix things between us, just like I never stopped trying with Logan. And I won’t stop trying to get you to accept Charlotte. You’re not going to just wipe us away.”

Her fingers pause their restless drumming. “When I say Ichosemy family, I don’t mean that I pick and choose,” she finally says. “It’s not a membership or something.”

“I know.”

“My mom left me, Aaron. And my dad—he was the most emotionally unavailable man on the planet.”

“Worse than Logan?”

“Please. Logan is a teddy bear in comparison.” She turns to me, eyes serious. “I worked really hard to get to the place I’m at now.”

I nod. I know that, too.

“And I worked really hard to find my people.”

“So you want your sister to work just as hard as you did.”

“Yea—” She stops herself, turning back to the road with a huff.

“Or maybe the fact that you had to work this hard means she gets to have it easier,” I suggest. “That you get to make it easier for her.”

She sinks into the seat. “She never reached out, Aaron.”

“She’s reaching out now.”

“Because sheneedssomething.”

I swallow my annoyance. “Because Beatrice told her you didn’t want to get to know her.”

I catch her eyes widening in her window’s reflection.

“Which, I guess, isn’t so far from the truth.”

The truck bounces over another dip in the road, and I scan the fields for Logan, but all I see is green and more green. Where the hell is he? He’s not leaving Primrose—that’s ridiculous. And he’s not the type to get jittery about commitment. He might as well have her name tattooed on his forehead.

“Is her dad in the picture?”

I focus back on Amelie. “No. Wants nothing to do with her, according to Beatrice. Left them behind.”

Her fingers start tapping again. “So she has no one except you.”

“And I can’t be everything for her,” I admit. “She’s too smart to let me. She knows it wouldn’t be healthy, that it wouldn’t prioritize Sadie, who’s already been through enough. Because your sister is also incredibly empathetic and caring.”

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