“Or could it be possible that your baby sister is growing claws?” “Christ, I hope so.” “Yeah.” Me, too. “You have to remember that she’s almost sixteen now, Joe,” I reminded him. “With hormones, and feelings, and a mind of her own.” I ruffled his hair and smiled. “It was bound to happen at some stage.” “I was worried it wouldn’t,” he admitted gruffly. “All flowers bloom, Joe, even the late ones,” I told him. “And sometimes, it’s the late blooming flower that makes the biggest impact.”
