Page 70 of These White Lies
Her voice carries a rare hint of vulnerability that I’ve only heard a couple of times from her.
“None of your friends are fans?”
She doesn’t answer.
“My sister wanted to go,” I offer. From Sera’s analysis of Elizabeth’s bank statements, I know most of her charges are places where she would have business dinners, not outings with friends.
“Sera likes Taylor Swift?” Elizabeth looks shocked. “I figured she was more into… like… I don’t know… death metal or something.”
A loud laugh escapes me. “She isobsessedwith Taylor. My sister is actually a very girly girl.”
Elizabeth looks at me skeptically. “Seriously?”
“She’s obsessed with reality TV,” I say, watching the road as I steer us through a curve. “Gossip blogs. All those dating shows, like Love Island.”
“You know the name,” she teases.
I grin despite myself. “There’s a surprising amount of psychology and strategizing on those shows. Don’t let all the fake eyelashes and bikinis fool you.”
Elizabeth giggles. The sound is so light and unexpected, I feel stupidly proud that I pulled the sound out of her.
“I would never have thought that about you… or her.” Elizabeth tilts her head, studying me. “You two are close?”
“She’s all I’ve got.”
The words land heavier than I intend. My hands flex on the wheel.
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth says quietly.
I shrug one shoulder, forcing my jaw to unclench, and keep my eyes on the road. “Mom died about five years ago. Our dad was never really around, so yeah, it’s Sera and me.”
Her gaze lingers on my face, but she doesn’t press.
“Why didn’t Sera go?” Elizabeth asks after a moment.
I hesitate. She probably thinks it’s a segue back to an easier subject. Unfortunately, she’s wrong. I think about lying or saying something vague, but I find myself sharing the subject that torments me constantly.
“Her scars were still raw, back then.”
Elizabeth’s expression softens, but without the pity I feared—something my sister would hate.
“She’s self-conscious about them.” I blink.I can’t believe I just said that.
Sera has never admitted it out loud, but once I realized it, it was obvious. Last year, when the scars were still red and puffy, she avoided wearing anything that showed her scars. She kept herself hidden under layers no matter how hot it was. It was Finn who finally made me understand why she sold her concert tickets. I was walking past the cyber room when I heard him teasing her about spending more time shopping online for concert outfits than actually working. Her ferocity when she snapped back, and then rushed past me with tears in her eyes, still hurts to remember.
“She’s a beautiful young woman.”
“I know.” It comes out gruff, almost a growl. My instinct to defend Sera is immediate.
“Is she in therapy?” Elizabeth asks.
I shake my head once. “No.”
She opens her mouth as if to say more, then closes it again and lets the silence stretch. Minutes later, almost hesitant, she asks, “How did it happen?”
My throat tightens. For a second, I consider shutting this conversation down. This is my sister’s story, and I know she’d kill me if she knew I was telling it to Elizabeth. But the urge to be honest with Elizabeth, to share what I haven’t shared with anyone else, is too strong. Even though there is a risk she will look at me differently once she sees the darkness I usually keep hidden—the relentless fact that I will do anything to keep those I love safe.
“She had a boyfriend,” I say finally. “He didn’t take the breakup well. Started stalking her.”
