“What? What did you think?”

He looked down at his basketball shoes. “It’s stupid, but I thought, with my garden, that Marcus would see that I was more than the worthless little shit he thought I was. That’s how Anthony makes me feel. Like I want to work on his yard and do a good job because he thinks I’m a worthless little shit.”

“He’s nothing like Marcus,” Ann said. “You don’t have to prove anything to him.”

“I feel like I do.”

“Anthony’s not so bad. He’s nice, actually.”

Michael couldn’t stand to hear Ann standing up for that guy. Why couldn’t she see what he saw? “He’s not nice, Ann.”

“He is! He tells me things. His dad was a coal miner. He said he gets bored.”

“That doesn’t make him a good guy. I don’t like the way he looks at you.” Michael couldn’t even look at Ann when he said it. He knew what it was like to look at her that way. He knew. “Be careful.”

“He’s fine. He’s just rough around the edges.”

“He’s rough all over.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but maybe you don’t see him clearly. Because of Marcus.”

“I see him clearly all right.” He sat forward and did a few triceps dips on the bench. Ann joined him. Her arms were lean and strong. She had a cowlick where her hair parted. She was beautiful, he thought—so beautiful and perfect that looking at her twisted something deep inside him.

He felt overwhelmed with these strong feelings of wanting her, and wanting to protect her. He’d spent almost a year trying to snuff his feelings for Ann, trying not to look at her, think about her. Sister, he told himself. She’s my sister. But at that moment, she was just Ann, and her face was right there, leaning closer to his. He couldn’t help himself. He did the most natural thing in the world: he kissed Ann on the lips, or she kissed him, he couldn’t tell who started it. He kissed her the way he’d always wanted to kiss her, and she kissed him back, she did. She tasted good and sweet. Perfect. This kiss felt like completion, like tying a knot. It felt like they were acknowledging a deep and boundless connection. He let his hand travel to the back of her neck. He’d wanted to touch that downy, golden hair and now, finally, he could. He wished that honest, perfect kiss could last forever.

But it didn’t. Ann pushed Michael away and pulled back. “You love me.” Her voice broke. “You love me, don’t you?” It sounded less like a question than an accusation.

Michael looked at his basketball shoes. He wanted to say yes, but he said nothing.