The question caught me off guard, but I wasn’t offended. Something in Cassandra’s eyes made her seem genuinely curious rather than intrusive.
“No,” I answered, setting down the glass I’d been polishing. “I was an only child.”
Cassandra nodded slowly, her fingers tracing patterns on her milkshake glass. For a brief moment, something like sadness flickered across her features.
“I lied to you before,” she confessed abruptly.
My hands stilled. “About what?”
“When we first met, I said I didn’t have any siblings.” She took a deep breath. “But I did have an older brother. His name was Caleb.”
The way she said “was” didn’t escape my notice.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, not knowing what else to say.
Cassandra shrugged, attempting nonchalance, but her knuckles were white where they gripped her glass.
“It’s okay. He died when he was very young. I don’t even remember him, really.”
“That must be hard.”
