Confess (Sin City Salvation 1)

“Where did you get that ring?” I asked, the gleam from her right hand practically blinding me.

She wiggled her finger and shrugged. “Somebody dropped it in the casino.”

She was lying, and I knew she was lying. That ring had to be worth at least twenty grand, and considering I recently put Birdie on a necessities-only allowance, she couldn’t afford it.

“What about the sunglasses? Did you find those on the floor too?”

She smirked. “Of course not. I just smiled and batted my eyelashes, and the sales guy gave me a huge discount.”

“Birdie.” I rubbed my temples, trying to will away the tension. “We’ve talked about this.”

“About what?” She tried using the same tactic she just described by batting her pretty blue eyes at me.

“You’re getting too used to this lifestyle. I don’t like it. You need to cut back and start focusing on your future. On school.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head, strands of blond hair flying around her face. “School is boring. I want to work with you.”

“No.” My jaw clenched. “That will never happen. Never.”

“I’m an adult, Gypsy. You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

“Then why don’t you act like one and get your GED like you promised you would?”

“Funny coming from you.” She rolled her eyes. “Hypocritical much?”

My attention drifted out the window, watching the cars fly by as we wound our way across Summerlin Parkway. I was so tired of this argument. I knew it, and Birdie knew it, but neither one of us knew what to do about it.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Birdie muttered a minute later. “Are you mad at me?”

I smiled at her because she was always the first to break. I loved my sister more than anything. I think she was the only person I was actually capable of loving. So the question was ridiculous, but she asked it often because deep down she was still a damaged little girl.

“I could never be mad at you,” I told her. “I just want what’s best for you. Always.”

“I know.” She dipped her head to hide her emotion. “That’s why I’m trying to do what I promised. I’m still going to all my classes. Mostly.”

“If you want to get into design school, you need to have your GED. There’s no way around that.”

“I know.” She shrugged a dainty shoulder. “It’s just hard to stay focused while I get through all the boring stuff first.”

“It will get easier,” I assured her.

“What about you, Gyps? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I leaned my head back against the headrest and smiled at her joke. I was already well and truly grown up. Too grown up for twenty-three. “I want to be rich.”

“Ha.” Birdie snorted. “Could have seen that one coming.”

She whipped the car into a parking space in front of our luxury apartment building in Summerlin North but kept the car idling.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “I have class.”

My gaze moved to the clock on the dashboard. I knew her schedule like the back of my hand because it was the only way I could feel safe. Those details were vital to me. There was never a question in my mind that at any minute we might need to cut and run, and I was constantly reminding her of it.

“Your class doesn’t start for three hours.”

Birdie groaned. She got sick of me being so overprotective of her, but she secretly loved and needed it. “Yes, but I need to study for a test. I’m meeting Trouble at Starbucks to chill out for a couple of hours. If I stay here with you, I’ll be too distracted.”

I wanted to believe her, but something about her explanation didn’t sit right with me. Birdie had never been so dedicated to her studies before. She would usually cram for a test fifteen minutes beforehand in the parking lot while chugging a Rockstar. She didn’t even like coffee. And as far as her new friend Trouble? Well, the name said it all. Birdie had found the lost, homeless girl wandering through a casino, and they’d been inseparable ever since. I didn’t necessarily think she was a good influence for Birdie, but she was trying to make a point that it was time to relinquish some of my control over her life. The anxieties would never go away, but I knew that there would be a day when Birdie would decide she was ready to start taking baby steps toward her freedom, and it looked to me like that day was arriving.

“Just be careful,” I pleaded with her. “Check in before you get to class, please. And when you’re on your way home.”

“I will,” she promised.

She never argued with me on these points because she knew it would make me sick with worry if she didn’t follow through. Birdie might have been a brat, but she loved me too, and she would never want to hurt me.