Leith
Clarke looked at me like I’d grown three heads. “I am not breaking into Ron’s office,” she said. “Are you
insane?” “We are going to do it together—thought I made that clear. C’mon,” I said. “You’re the one who brought
this entire situation to my attention. Plus, I need Brady’s keys unless you’re cool with me breaking down doors and
shit.”
“I think you’re overestimating your own strength.” Clarke rolled her eyes at me. “And I’m not letting Brady be
implicated in your stupid crime.” Joke was on her, though, because I already texted Brady and told him I needed to
borrow some tools. He was the one who told me Clarke had all the keys while he and Collins were gone doing
whatever it was they were doing.
“The Sweetwater Peak Sheriff’s D epartment is one person, and his bloodstream is at least half Coors Banquet.
We don’t even have a holding cell in this town.” And even if we did, we weren’t going to get caught. “Our drunk
tank is literally an old shipping container from Papadakis Trucking. We’re going to be fine.” Sweetwater Peak
residents were not big on law enforcement.
“I’m not into breaking and entering,” Clarke said, and I gave her a look. “Your sister has broken into every
known structure in Sweetwater Peak,” I reminded her. “And if memory serves, she’s also pretty partial to the
five-finger discount.”
“I’m not Collins,” Clarke snapped. “And most of those break-ins or burgles or whatever are alleged.” Clarke
was always quick to defend her sister. I respected it—even though I literally watched Collins lift a Polaroid camera
from the pawnshop with my own two eyes when we were sixteen.
“I think when you have that many ‘alleged’ burgles”—I used air quotes —“there’s gotta be some truth to it.”
“Okay, well, then call Collins and ask her to be your weird sidekick,” Clarke said. “Because I’m not doing it.”
She folded her arms across her chest.
“I have a right to those files, so I don’t even think this qualifies as petty larceny.” Clarke still looked absolutely
resolute.
And that meant it was time to bring out the big guns. I let my shoulders make a visible drop and hung my head.
I had to get into character. “C’mon, Clarke. Please?” I said softly. A shocked laugh bubbled out of her, and I didn’t
know how to respond.
An unexpected reunion. An apology that comes too late. A
confession that changes everything.
“You’re using the same strategy you used to get me to let you copy my homework to now get me in volved in a
life of crime?”
Okay, ouch. Yeah, I was doing that, but it hurt that she called me out on it. Because the truth was, I wanted
Clarke to think I was better than I was. I always had. When we were younger, Clarke had always been mean to me,
but at least I knew, in some ways, that meant I was getting under her skin. That I was interesting enough to register
on her radar. But since we had gotten older, every time we saw each other she was just... nice to me.
Selfishly, I wanted back under her skin.
Clarke pulls everyone in; she’s the type of person who has a strong magnetic field, enveloping people in her
orbit, making them feel seen, and they’re happy to be there. But for some reason, it bothers me a lot that I’m the
only person she seems to push away. That I seem to be the only person she doesn’t want to see.
“Life of crime feels a little excessive,” I said, rubbing at the back of my neck. “And you did let me copy your
homework every day, so there must be something about this strategy that works for you.” Clarke sighed. I was
wearing on her, which meant it was time to play my final card—a card I didn’t know I had until now.
“Please,” I said again. “This could be important. To my life. To my family. To... my dad’s legacy.” Clarke’s
hazel eyes sparked. It felt odd to talk about the farm and my dad this way—as things to be revered. My feelings
about him were complicated. He wasn’t a bad dad, but he wasn’t a good one either. And that was because of the
farm. It was everything to him. The farm was his wife, his kid, his family, his reason—everything he did and
everything he was.
But Clarke was right about the role our farm played in ke eping this town alive. My dad used to say that it might
not have been Sweetwater Peak’s beating heart, but it was her kidneys. There were fewer novels and songs written
about the kidneys, but once they went, everything else was soon to follow.
Clarke hit me with an eye roll, and I knew I’d got her. “Fine,” she said, and I had to hold myself back from
jumping up and down and clapping. “But if we get caught, I will tell everyone that you kidnapped me or hypnotized
me. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said. Sweetwater Peak did have a resident hypnotist. Too bad it wasn’t me, or getting Clarke out of
this house would’ve been a hell of a lot easier.
Bill and Pearl came back through the dog door—tongues out and panting. “Do you think these two will be all
right here?”
As if each of them were answering my question, both dogs jumped on the couch and lay down. Bill even went
as far as to close his eyes—settling
in immediately.
“Looks like it,” Clarke said with a small smile. At least she liked Bill. “Plus, we’re getting this done as quickly
as possible.”
“I’ll drive the getaway car,” I said as I gave Bill a pat on the head.