I started to defend myself, but Abby spoke up. “Katie, she didn’t leave Shepherd just for him.”

Well . . .

Sitting back against the booth, I kept my mouth shut. Of course Abby would defend me. I was closer to her than I was to Katie. Abby and I had first met years ago at a book signing, and our mutual love of reading had spawned what I like to think was a pretty epic friendship, considering there was a ten year gap between us.

But love of books knew no age.

Growing up, I’d always known of Katie. Even in a city as populated as Philadelphia and its surrounding suburbs, everyone knew Katie. And it really wasn’t because she was a stripper at the club across from the bar called Mona’s. It also wasn’t because she claimed to be psychic, a side effect of falling off a slippery pole.

It was just that Katie was a friend of everyone. I didn’t think there was a person out there that Katie hadn’t befriended at some point.

But right then I was kind of wishing I hadn’t agreed to this breakfast when I’d told Abby I’d be coming up for the weekend.

“You know damn well that’s why she’s here,” Katie retorted, finishing off the slice of bacon before flipping thick blonde hair over her shoulder. “He’s the only thing that brings her back here at a snap of a finger.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the only thing,” I reasoned, picking up my glass of soda. “I came home last month.”

“For the Fourth of July,” she returned.

Abby’s sigh was nearly swallowed by the sip of coffee she took. “I think what Katie is trying to say—”

“She knows what I’m saying.” Katie slid the sleeve of her neon purple shirt back up her shoulder. Her bright, ocean-colored eyes met mine. “He treats her like a little sister/slave. He’s not worth it. Not yet.”

Every part of me stilled and then stiffened. Muscles along my back locked up. Skin prickled like a swarm of fire ants. I was a pretty level-headed person. So much so that when I died, I was pretty sure that “calm and collected” would be etched into my gravestone, but nothing, nothing made my head want to spin three-hundred-and-sixty degrees quicker than someone talking smack about him.

“Don’t say that about Brock.” My voice was cool, but fire was sparking deep in my belly.

“He’s a grown adult.” Katie shrugged a shoulder, ignoring my warning. “And he’s making his own decisions. Has been for as long as all of us remember, and you’ve been his little shadow.”

“Well, it sounds kind of pathetic when you say it like that.” I placed my glass back on the table before it accidentally slipped out of my fingers, and my epitaph changed to “ill-tempered and impulsive.”