Reputation(37)

There’s sniffling from inside. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I just . . . I need to go. It has nothing to do with you.”

She opens the door a crack. Her eyes are red, and her cheeks are blotchy, and she looks pissed. “Do you even realize I don’t have anyone else right now? Did you not hear what people were saying? Then again, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you were just thinking about how soon you could get out of here.”

“No, I did hear, I just . . .” I trail off. I’d just hoped Kit hadn’t heard all those whispers.

“And Dad’s not helping. He’s wrapped up with this hack thing. And the girls—I’m supposed to be the strong one for them.”

“Kit, I didn’t—”

But she cuts me off, points at me. “Look, I know we’re not close anymore. I know you have a life in LA. I know that maybe you think my life is . . . oh, I don’t know. Petty, maybe. Superficial. I have a lame job. A husband you’ve never really liked.”

“That’s not fair! I don’t think those things!” Not really, anyway.

“And I get it—Pittsburgh is nothing compared to LA. There’s no good takeout. Everyone’s obsessed with sports. If I lived somewhere warm and amazing, I’d want to go back, too. But we’re still sisters. And I have no one else right now, Willa.”

The bar coaster I’ve torn up is in shreds in my hands, falling onto the tiled bathroom floor. There’s an ache in my stomach that’s possibly been there since I landed in Pittsburgh on the red-eye. It never occurred to me that it bothered Kit that we weren’t close. I figured she was subsumed by her own issues—family, career, marriage, her brand-new, sparkly, rich-girl life—to give a shit about our relationship. I figured she had lots of support. I’d actually envied her, if I was being honest with myself. Gregarious Kit in the dependable same city she’s lived in since birth, while I forged it alone thousands of miles away.

But now all I see is that I haven’t been a sister.

I think about the text my boss sent. I’m not working on any stories right now, and I have almost three weeks of unused vacation time for the year, plus a bunch of carried-over days from years past. Would it kill me to stay here for a little longer and be the sister Kit needs?

Well, yes, it possibly might. But it might not. And whatever doesn’t kill me will make me stronger.

I take another minute to dwell on it, then take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll stay. I want to stay.” There’s a lump in my throat. “I didn’t realize. I should have, but I didn’t.” I lick my lips. Swallow hard. How do I say I want to be close to her again? How do I bridge all the years, all the secrets? I have a feeling I have way more things to hide than Kit does. And I certainly don’t want to divulge anything. Long ago, I’d made a promise to myself always to move forward, not look back. It’s why being here is so difficult. There are too many reminders.

“Forget everything I just said,” I tell her. “I won’t book that flight. I won’t book any flight.”

She glances at me begrudgingly. “Really?”

I open the stall door wider. “Yes. Actually, maybe I can help with figuring out what happened to Greg.”

Kit looks at me suspiciously. “For a story?”

“No. Absolutely not. For you.”

As if on cue, I catch sight of those same women from before—the ones who were whispering about the rumors of how Greg and Kit met. I glance at Kit, wondering if I should ask her about it. Is Greg being Martin’s surgeon a secret? What other secrets is she keeping? And what did those women mean about Greg acting like Sienna and Aurora didn’t exist toward the end? What was with Sienna and Aurora arguing on the bench an hour ago?

There’s a lot I’m missing here. A lot that lurks beneath the surface, ready to be excavated. And maybe, just like Paul suggested, I’m the person to do it.

Kit’s brow furrows. “Are you going to speak to everyone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, don’t question the girls. They’ve already been through it. I don’t want to retraumatize them.”

I shrug. “Okay. Whatever.” There’s a lump in my throat. I’ve always been a person who relies more on action than words. Maybe if I can figure this out for Kit, then things will be okay between us. All of our neglect from years past will be wiped clean. “Now, can we get out of here? I think I’m starting to regress into my seventh-grade self.”

Kit laughs weakly. When she takes my arm, I feel that we might be all right. For a second, I almost feel good about my decision. But then I remember: I’ve lied to Kit, just now. Yes, I want to investigate what really happened to Greg. But that’s not all that made me decide to stay.

Years ago, in this same neighborhood, something happened that went unresolved. For years I’ve dwelled on that iniquity. I’ve thought about the rot that hides behind this pretty community’s walls, the ugly secrets people keep. It’s why I went into my particular career: To draw the truth from people. To tell things others are afraid to. To expose people for who they are, no matter how prominent they might be. Greg’s murder occurred in the very same town where, all those years ago, something else happened that changed—damaged—someone forever.