Bad Blood by Mari Mancusi Page A

getting a pass to stay up. You can bond with Sunny all you want tomorrow, if she’s around.”
    She says this completely matter-of-factly, but her words still sting and I’m suddenly feeling super guilty for coming home so late. I mean, this isn’t a hotel—these people have opened up their lives to me without reservation. And it’s certainly not little Stormy’s fault that my dad’s a bastard who never lives up to his promises—heck, he might disappear on her on a regular basis, too, for all I know.
    “Don’t worry, Stormy,” I assure her. “We can hang out tomorrow. Maybe make some waffles in the morning?” I look questioningly to Heather. She nods, a relieved look on her face.
    “Of course. Stormy loves waffles, don’t you?” she says. Stormy gives a typical tween too-cool-for-school shrug, but I can tell she’s pleased. She slides down from the table and heads down the hall to her room, shouting good-nights as she goes.
    Heather turns back to me, shaking her head fondly. “Sorry about that,” she says. “The kid’s eleven, going on twenty-one.”
    I laugh appreciatively. “It’s cool. I mean, she’s cute. And I’ve always wanted a little sister I could teach stuff to.” Unlike the annoying know-it-all one I usually live with.
    “Yeah, good luck with Stormy.” Heather snorts. “She’s the one always teaching me stuff. The girl is a freaking whiz on the computer and has pretty much mastered every Trivial Pursuit game in existence. Definitely her father’s daughter, that’s for sure.”
    Ugh. Way to accidentally bring up the big elephant in the room. The air between us suddenly is thick with awkwardness. I stare down at my fried rice, no longer very hungry.
    “Um, about that . . .” Heather starts hesitantly. “I’m really sorry I blindsided you with that whole half-sister thing earlier. For some reason I just assumed that your mother would have told you. Or your dad even. I can’t believe he didn’t say anything, all these years.”
    “He and I don’t talk much,” I mumble, finding myself unable to look up and risk seeing the pity in her eyes. Her father’s daughter . Am I my father’s daughter? Am I like him at all? Or is he more like Rayne? I have no idea. He never stuck around long enough for us to find out.
    The warmth has gone out of the room and my hands feel cold as ice. Heather presses on. “I feel terrible. If I’d known I’d . . .”
    “You’d what?” I lash out, whipping my head up, suddenly furious at this homewrecker sitting at the table with me, pretending to be my friend. Pretending she didn’t do the unthinkable, back when I was around Stormy’s age. Stealing away the man who gave me life. Giving him a replacement daughter to make it easier for him to abandon his twins. Hell, I think half the time the guy forgets we even exist. “You’d have broken the news differently?
    Or maybe passed her off as a stepsister—no relation whatsoever? How would that be better? Nothing can change the fact that she exists in the first place. That my dad cheated on my mom and now there’s a living, breathing proof of his infidelity walking around this house.”
    Heather shakes her head slowly. “I know it seems bad,” she says. “But you have to trust me when I say you don’t know the whole story.”
    “You’re right. I don’t know the whole story,” I snarl back. “In fact, I don’t even know the first chapter. The freaking prologue even. My whole life no one’s ever bothered to tell me anything. Just that Dad’s gone and he’s probably not coming back.”
    “I know,” Heather says. “Believe me, over the years I’ve begged your father to sit you two down and tell you what really happened. To explain why he did what he did. But . . . he’s afraid, I guess.”
    “What could he possibly be afraid of?”
    She seems to think about this for a moment. “I guess that you won’t understand. And you’ll judge him for doing what he felt he had no choice but to