Chapter One

“You’re late! Where’ve you been?” Cait demands when I enter the kitchen where she and Mom are.

“None of your business,” I tell her, grabbing the cookie jar.

“No arguing,” Mom warns as she kisses my cheek.

“Milk?” Cait offers, already opening the refrigerator door.

“Thanks,” I smile at her unspoken apology. Shifting between affection and irritation is how it’s been for us for nearly a decade now. Six, two years younger than me when I came to live with the Thornes, Cait almost instantly assumed the role one would expect from an older, not younger sibling.

It seems that she’s always trying to either bully or mother me. She nags when she thinks I’m holding back, argues when she disagrees with me and comforts me when I’m upset—and I admit to being agitated a lot in those early years. Matt says I was a moody bastard, that I still am, but withdrawing is my coping mechanism. I dealt with my confusion and feelings of rejection in my last years with Eleanor that way. It’s what I still do when wrestling with something that bothers me. I have no problems being sociable, but I’m not naturally gregarious, probably a symptom of spending so much of my early life only with Eleanor or alone. Now, I prefer socializing with my family and close friends.

When I want to be alone, Mom and Dad will check that I’m okay. They’ll only push if they think it’s necessary, and my friends, even Alan, who can be a pain in the ass, will give me space when I demand it. Cait doesn’t. She ignores whatever mood I’m in. She’s always