He sighed.
“The woman isn’t someone from his office.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Who is she?”
“She’s family.”
My mind immediately went to Mason’s cousins.
A sister-in-law.
Maybe one of my distant relatives.
Anyone except the person in the photograph Grant eventually slid across the table.
Brooke.
My younger sister.
My baby sister.
The girl I had carried around on my hip when our mother worked late shifts.
The teenager whose first car I helped buy.
The woman whose credit card debt I secretly paid because she was too embarrassed to tell our parents.
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