Free Reaper by Emily Goodwin

sure.”
    “So, what’s her deal?”
    “She likes Ethan.”
    “Oh, so she’s a jealous bitch.”
    “I guess you could say that.” I flipped to a recipe (roasted chicken with rosemary) and slid the book in front of René. She nodded approvingly. “Sam and her sister, Julia, moved in with Ethan and his dad after their parents died, like over ten years ago. Ethan had no idea she even had a crush on him; he thinks of her as a little sister. Needless to say, she hates me.”
    “Then why is she here?”
    “I wondered that too. Supposedly, she was ‘in the area’ but I think she really just wanted to check in on us.”
    “And she probably was hoping to see you two fighting or getting sick of each other,” René said over her shoulder as she grabbed ingredients out of the fridge.
    “Probably,” I agreed and preheated the oven. “But Ethan cares about her, and she’s family to him, so I’ll put up with her. And I do believe her about missing Ethan; they did grow up together,” I said softly.
    René closed her eyes for a second before shaking her head at me. “You’re too nice, Anora. Who cares if that girl misses Ethan? That doesn’t mean she has to be such a little drama-queen, bitch-face.” René straightened up. “In fact, it’s people like her that give people like us a bad name! They think they can stomp on us like we’re little, teeny-tiny ugly bugs, but no! They can’t. Not anymore. We need to take a stand!” When her speech ended, she steadily held my gaze for a few seconds, face set. Then she groaned and put her head on the counter.
      I laughed and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. “She even tried to accuse me of cheating on Ethan with my own brother,” I said as I filled the glass with water.
    René laughed too, her voice muffled. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
    I set the glass down next to René. She eyed it, slowly sat up, and took a long drink.
      “We’re twins actually. His name is Harrison, but I call him Harry.” I sighed, “I miss him.”
    René didn’t say anything but she looked intently at me.
    “What?” I asked, feeling her eyes on me.
    “I get the feeling like you don’t want to say,” she began. “But why did you move?”
    I hesitated.
    “It’s ok,” she told me and drank the rest of the water.
      “I’m sure I’ll tell you someday.”
    “Whenever you’re ready.”
    I smiled. “Thanks.” Before I started getting out ingredients, I retrieved a jar of peanuts from the pantry. I opened the lid and slid it across the counter to René.
    “Thanks,” she told me and picked out a few nuts. “Ugh, I’m never drinking again!”
    “Do you want any aspirin?” I asked, thinking she might have a headache.
    “No, I feel like I’m going to puke. I’m not,” she added quickly. “After I eat I’ll feel better,” she assured me and tossed a handful of peanuts into her mouth. “And I say I’m never drinking again every time I drink,” she laughed. “I wonder if he’s thinking about me,” she said so quietly I could barely hear her.
    “I’m sure he is,” I assured and opened the fridge to grab the necessary ingredients. “And I’m sure he’s regretting what he did.”
    “Has anyone told you that you are a terrible lair?” she asked, pointing her finger at me. “But thanks, Anora.” She ate a few more handfuls of peanuts before getting up to help me make dinner. Along with the chicken, René and I had made steamed asparagus, mashed potatoes, and sweet rolls.
      Since this was the first time I’d had company over since moving into the Victorian, I formally set the table in the dining room, complete with the fancy cloth napkins Aunt Estelle has stashed in a cabinet. The house was stocked rather well for having been empty. It struck me as odd, as if she knew I would end up here.
    After dinner, René asked if I could read her tarot cards. I jogged upstairs to get the cards. We sat in the breakfast nook: I handed her the cards and she