The Detective and Her Bachelor

Chapter 3

"Hey kid," I said to my bleary-eyed younger sister who had fallen asleep in front of the tv again. A habit I didn't have time to break. Not when my hours were weird, and I was her official guardian with little backup to help create a normal routine.

Misty's hair was a mess of brown tangles as she bolted upright on the couch, rubbing her eyes with her fists to try and hide the fact that I had caught her red-handed, dead asleep in the very place I had asked her not to fall asleep in front of.

"I'm awake!" Misty croaked, scrambling for the remote and shutting off the tv.

I dropped my beat-up leather shoulder bag on the floor with a thunk, noticing the way the worn floorboards creaked in protest, bending below the weight of my supplies— random items that proved useful when I was tailing people for hours at a time.

The house was an old stack of bricks, shag rug carpeting, scratched-up wooden floorboards, and neon blue appliances from the seventies that belonged more in an old sitcom than a modern-day house. The pea-green curtains and fruit wallpaper were the final touches to the cheesy vibe that made up my childhood family home. A place frozen in time because I didn't have the time to change anything, and the idea of erasing the past was both painful and something I craved in equal measure.

"Good save," I replied walking over to the fridge and pulling out the box of pizza from the takeout we had the night before. Shoving half a piece into my mouth, I walked over to the couch, slumping down next to Misty, and shoved more cold pizza into my mouth. "How was your day?"

She shrugged. "Meh."

I started in on a second piece, looking down at my fifteen-year-old sister, assessing. "Just meh, huh?"

She crossed her arms. "Don't use your detective thing on me," she yawned, brown eyes watering for a beat as she pushed away a wave of sleep, causing the golden flecks in her eyes to become more prominent. "Save it for work."

Then don't lie to me, I wanted to say. Don't hide things, I itched to retort. But instead, I shoved more pizza into my mouth, refusing to give in to my desire for truth. Sometimes, you just had to let people have their secrets.

I put down the pizza box on our five-dollar coffee table covered in water stains and sighed. "Sorry, habit." I didn't blame Misty for her reaction. Reading people was one of my jobs, and using it on Misty wasn't fair. Not when my social life consisted of catching liars, sneaking around following liars, and then coming home at random hours to try and make sure my sister had whatever she needed.

I had never been so thankful for having a low maintenance charge. It helped keep my level of guilt in check when I found her asleep in front of the tv, eating leftovers for the third day in a row.

I need to get my life in check. I need to be better at this.

"It's fine," Misty said, nibbling on one of the pizza crusts I left in the box. "So how's work?"

I groned flexing my fingers, suddenly wishing I kept a punching bag at home. "Sucked. Got an assignment."

Misty paused, turning to look at me, honey brown eyes bright with curiosity. "Oh? I thought you liked those."

"I do," I muttered. "But Decker gave me a dumpster fire one on purpose."

"Wait," Misty whispered, growing excited. "YOU GOT THE ASSIGNMENT. LIKE AN UNDERCOVER ONE!" she squeaked. 

Jumping to her feet, she bolted out of the room.

"Where are you going?" I called after her. "That's a weird reaction to my news."

"To pack!" Misty shouted, popping her head back into the room, all grin. "If you are going to be on a super-secret mission, I can't possibly stay here alone."