It was the final straw in our crumbling relationship and cemented the hate I felt for him.

A joke.

And it was Sam’s doing. My sister. Oh, how she cried that night. She told me how sorry she was. I thought she’d meant for Macon’s bad deed. But it was her. I’ve spent my entire life protecting her in any small way I could, and she did that?

Blood rushes from my head and pools at my feet. Dimly, I hear Macon swear. My ears are ringing. Sam stares at me with tears in her eyes and a hopeful expression on her face.

For the first time in my life, I act without thinking. My hand snaps out and connects with Sam’s cheek. The slap echoes in the kitchen. My palm tingles as I turn and walk away.

Macon

Delilah walks out of the kitchen with quiet dignity, leaving me alone with Sam.

“You selfish little fool. You had to tell her, didn’t you?” I want to go to Delilah so badly my heart hurts, but I know my girl needs her space for a moment. Sam needs to be dealt with.

Sam stares in the direction Delilah took, holding a hand to her reddened cheek as though she can’t believe Delilah actually slapped her. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Why would I? I kept it secret all these years.” Something that I hated doing. Especially when I started to fall for Delilah. The truth sat like a brittle stone under my ribs every time Delilah mentioned the incident. “Do you honestly think I agreed to take the fall for your stunt all because I was trying to protect you? I did it for her. Because I knew, even back then, that it would devastate Delilah if she learned her own sister humiliated her as a cruel joke.”

Sam blanches. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Bull. You did it because you were jealous.” I’m beginning to think Sam always was. That the only reason she held on to me so tightly when we were children was because she knew it hurt Delilah.

“Why are you here?” I ask Sam when she says nothing. “Why now? And don’t give me that shit about borrowing the watch. You knew I was looking for you and wanted it back. So why now?”

Sam lifts her chin in defiance. “I saw a picture of you two at that gala. You had a look on your face. I know that look. You were either screwing her or wanted to.”

She isn’t wrong there. I had wanted to.

“And so you had to return and ruin any chance of happiness she might have?” I shake my head in disappointment.

Sam’s gray eyes ice over. “Despite what you think, Saint, I do love my sister. You never liked her. Hell, you two hated each other. I’m supposed to believe you’re what, suddenly in love?”

“You know what I think? You couldn’t stand the idea of Delilah and I together. Why is that? And don’t give me any crap about being attached to me. We’ve been over for years.”

“You were still my boyfriend. Sisters do not poach old flames.”

“Oh, bullshit. You simply hate the idea that Delilah and I might be happy.” When she looks away and lifts her chin in defiance, I push on. “What did you say to her? That I was yours?” I snort in disgust. “Here’s a bit of news. I was never yours.”

Sam flinches. It’s slight, but I see it, and regret pings in my chest.

“Be cruel if you want,” she says, flipping her hair in a move I know is self-protective. “I don’t care anymore. But don’t pretend that we were nothing. We were together practically our whole childhood. No matter how much you deny it, you can’t erase that.”

The fight goes out of me with a sigh. I feel battered, and the greater half of me is still pulling toward Delilah, wanting to comfort her. Just hold her. Leaning against the counter, I regard the woman who was my partner in pettiness for years.

She’s right. We have a history. And not all of it was bad. There were times when we had fun, when she was the only person I could turn to. I both cared for her and loathed her. For better or worse, she was part of me for a long time.

“I don’t want to erase it because it’s part of my history. You were a friend when I didn’t have any. In all honesty, hanging out with you probably saved my life in more ways than one.”

Sam’s look of surprise is tentative but pleased.

I hold her gaze with my own. “But we brought out an ugliness in each other that was unhealthy and petty. And any nostalgic fondness died when you sold me out, stole the watch, and went into hiding.”

To her credit, she flinches. “I’m sorry about that. Truly. I know it was horrible. But I didn’t think that woman would hurt you. I thought she was a reporter. Okay, yes, it was stupid. And the watch . . . I was desperate.” For a moment, she appears frightened before she retreats under her mask. “But I brought it back. Doesn’t that count for something?”