“I remember Rosie tagging along, just fucking shit-talking you the entire time. God, nothing made me prouder of her.” My body stills at the mention of his sister. Rosalie. I haven’t laid eyes on her in a decade, but my shoulders get tense all the same. I turn to face West. “Doesn’t she have her master’s and some fancy job in Vancouver now?” I already know she does. I look her up from time to time—just to make sure she’s happy, of course.
