Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(40)

“Coffee, sis?”

How long had she been standing there? “No thanks, I’ve already had three cups.”

“Good lord.” Willa scooped the grounds into the holder, added water, and closed the lid. “Who are you and what have you done to Ginger?”

“Huh?” Trying to hide her puffy eyes, Ginger looked down, concentrating on the cigarette advertisement she pasted on the coffee table.

Willa frowned as she removed a coffee mug from the cabinet. “You worked last night. Shouldn’t you still be in bed?”

“Hmmm? Yeah. I couldn’t sleep.” She cleared the cobwebs from her throat and smiled at Willa. “Hey, I had an idea! I found this amazing coffee table downtown and I thought we could collaborate on it. We can combine some of your photos with the interesting clippings I find. It’ll be ours when we finish. We’ll keep it. What do you think?”

Willa finished pouring milk into the mug, then returned her smile. “I’ll go get my portfolio. Maybe I have some old shots we can use.”

“Great!”

Avoiding Willa’s intelligent gaze, Ginger ducked her head once more, pretending to consider different placements for the cutout she held in her hand. A few minutes later, Willa came back in the room carrying an oversize folder and took up residence on the floor beside her. Ginger felt a rush of gratitude for her sister when she refrained from mentioning the overtly sarcastic quality of the project so far.

Willa extricated a handful of photographs and began picking through them.

Ginger set down the magazine and picked up a glossy eight-by-ten shot of a broad-shouldered young man wearing a basketball uniform, his brows drawn together in concentration. The players surrounding him were the only giveaway that he was a high school student, because of how much older he looked. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Evan. Evan Carmichael.”

“Oh.” Ginger studied the picture. “Did you take this on Friday night? It’s really good, Wip.”

“Yep, I did. Thanks.”

Ginger set the photograph back down on top of the pile. “He’s really cute. Do you know him?” She winced at her attempt to sound nonchalant. Willa would definitely clam up on the double.

“Yeah. I know him. Actually…” She tugged the sleeves of her hoodie over her wrists, poking her thumb through a hole she’d created. “I think he’s going to ask me to the prom. Ha.”

Ginger’s mouth fell open. “Wh-what did you say? You’re considering going to a dance with this boy?”

“I’m thinking about it. Yeah.” She sighed. “If he asks, I’ll go.”

Ginger’s mind reeled. Her little sister, who to the best of her knowledge avoided human contact at all costs, had agreed to attend a dance? Remembering Willa’s reaction to her barb about attending the school basketball game, Ginger refrained from relaying her thoughts aloud.

Did this mean coming to Chicago had been the right thing for Willa? She scrutinized the blush staining her sister’s cheeks, the glimmer of humor in her eye. Ginger’s heart swelled.

She quickly tried to hide her proud-mama reaction by ducking her head, but her smile must have shown because Willa snickered into her coffee cup.

“Well, that’s fantastic, Willa,” Ginger said, attempting casual. “I assume you’ll need a dress?”

“I might.”

“Then I might be able to help pick it out?”

Willa laughed. “Ginger, I know f*ck-all about dresses. You’re hired.”

Unable to restrain herself, Ginger clapped her hands twice. “Great. Just give me a little direction. Short, long, strapless…?”

Her sister gave a lopsided smile. “Just make me look better than Evan’s ex-girlfriend, Natalie. The blond, pom-pom-toting femme-bot.”

Ah, so this is what had been bothering Willa. She felt a rush of relief. Normal teenage problems. “Girl, when I’m done, she’ll have nothing on you.”

They passed the next hour going through Willa’s photographs and pulling out their favorites, deciding where to place them. Ginger even managed to weasel a few more details about Evan out of her sister—enough to get the sense that she really liked the boy. Which was shocking, to say the least. When Willa eventually left for school, Ginger dragged herself from the floor and went to make a fresh pot of coffee.

As she waited for it to brew, she tried to comprehend the last hour. Instead of reticent and moody, Willa had been practically jovial as they worked on the joint project. She’d had to force herself to act normal and not gape at the changes taking place in her sister. Her signature snark and foul mouth hadn’t gone anywhere, which Ginger found herself oddly thankful for. She loved the old Willa just as much as the new one.

Sipping at her fresh cup, Ginger found herself torn between joy over Willa’s transformation and confusion over her own inability to transform herself. Perhaps it had to do with age. Willa was still young and able to learn new tricks, so to speak. Ginger chose to take it as a sign that in some small way, she might have actually managed to shield Willa from the worst of their upbringing before it caused any permanent damage.

As for herself, she’d lacked any type of shield or voice of reason. Her life had been molded into a shape and left to harden in the sun. It was too late for her to change now.