"What?" Grace asks. "Oh, don't do that. Skip your run and stuff your face with us. We have soup. And chips and queso, too. I've barely seen you since you've been here. And I'm Brady-less. Roger took him to the science museum."
Hendrix gives me a long look. "Yeah, I'm going running," he says.
"But you're not even dressed in running clothes." I can feel Grace's eyes on me, and I turn around to throw away the paper towels in my hand, grateful for an excuse to do anything else.
"I won't be that long," Hendrix says. "It's just ten miles."
"Just ten miles," Grace scoffs. "Fine, go be fit or whatever. We'll snarf soup and watch girl movies."
I pretend to be nonchalant as Hendrix goes back to his room, changes, and then leaves the house for his run. I'm chatting with Grace, gossiping about stupid things, until the door shuts, and Grace stops mid-sentence to look at me through narrowed eyes.
"Do I have something in my teeth?" I ask.
"No," she says. "Spill the beans."
My hand feels shaky as I bring my spoon to my lips. "I have no idea what beans there are to spill."
"Bullshit," Grace says. "I'm your sister. And you guys are weird."
"What are you talking about?" I ask. "Hendrix is weird. He's been gone for five years. I don't even know him anymore. There's nothing weird. You're weird." I stop abruptly, aware that I'm doing that thing where my voice gets high-pitched and squeaky. Totally indicative of guilt.
Grace's eyes go wide as she stares at me. "Oh. My. God."
"No, no. There's no Oh my God. There's nothing to Oh My God about."
"Yes there is." She inhales sharply, bringing her hand to her mouth. "You and Hendrix."
"No, no, no." I shake my head. "There is no me and Hendrix."
"There so totally is you and Hendrix!" She points at me. "You're guilty. I can see it all over your face. I should have guessed. You guys were always so close."
"What?" I squeak. "We were not close."
"Yes you were, you lying liar," she says. "Or should I call you a dirty liar? I thought you guys were doing it when you were in high school, actually. You weren't?"
"No!" I squeal. "Last night was the first time!" I immediately cover my mouth with my hand.
Grace cackles hysterically. "You can't hide anything from me, Addison Stone. Dish. Did you go all the way? Blowjob? Hand job? A little under the shirt action?"
"Oh my God, I'm not telling you anything. This is really, really uncomfortable."
"So, all the way then?" she asks.
I throw a pillow at her, and she collapses with laughter, then stops abruptly. "Was it good?"
"You have no comment about the fact that it's – oh, I don't know – fucking Hendrix we're talking about here?" I ask, my voice becoming more and more shrill by the second.
"We are talking about fucking Hendrix," she says, snorting. "And I can tell by your evasiveness that it was good."
"What? My evasiveness means nothing."
Grace raises her eyebrows. "So it was bad?" she asks. "I'm shocked. Rumor was he was quite the manwhore in high school, and I assume that hasn't changed. I mean, did you see him now? He's like, completely ripped. He's gotten hotter over the years."
"Don't you have a husband?"
Grace cocks her head to the side. "I'm speaking objectively, not because I personally find him attractive. It's a factual statement. Hendrix is a hottie. And you fucked him."
"Please stop saying that," I groan.
"This calls for wine," Grace says, standing up and heading for the kitchen. I sit on the sofa, melting into a puddle of abject humiliation, while she returns with glasses and a bottle. I watch as she promptly pours a large quantity of wine into my glass.
"Grace, that's nearly half the bottle."
"I know," she says. "And I'm pouring the other half into this glass. I think this situation calls for half a bottle of wine each, don't you?"
I take a very large sip from my very large glass. "I don't know what happened, Grace."
"You screwed Hendrix," she says. "Let's start with that."
"He's our…brother, Grace." I feel sick to my stomach even speaking the word.
"Don't be a total idiot," she says. "He's our stepbrother. We're not related at all."
"He moved in when I was a junior in high school."
"So?" she asks. "It's not like we grew up together. We're not related, Addison. Seriously. Is this what you're wound up about?"
"You don't see anything wrong with it?"