Chapter 7: Dean on the Steps

On Friday morning at seven-forty, my brother was sitting on the front steps of Caldecott Studio in yesterday's shirt.

He had a duffel bag at his feet and a sunburn across his nose.

He stood up when he saw me.

"I got on the first flight I could find," Dean said. "I've been up for twenty-two hours."

I stopped three steps below him.

"How did you know where I work?"

"Troy said the name of the studio on the phone. I looked it up."

He swallowed.

"Marin, I didn't know."

"I know you didn't."

"I swear I didn't."

"I believe you," I said. "That isn't the same as forgiving you."

He flinched.

Then he nodded, because he understood it.

His right hand was shut in a fist at his side.

"I have something for you," he said.

He opened his fingers.

Our mother's necklace lay in his palm, the thin silver chain tangled around the oval locket.

I took it from him.

It was warm from his hand, and it smelled like coconut sunscreen. That was Leigh's.

I opened the locket with my thumbnail.

Inside was the old photo of the three of us on a pier.

Mom's hair was blowing across her face.

It was undamaged. My eyes stung anyway.

"How did you get it back?" I asked.

"I asked her for it at the pool. She said, 'Fine, it's tacky anyway.'"

I closed the locket in my fist.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Too Late to Beg: I'm No Longer Yours from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.