Twenty-Three
“I f****d up.”
Alex’s voice came through Tasa’s cell phone. Now that he’d found her, she ditched her burner phone and took back the cell he brought with him when he tracked her down in Montreal. They’d been talking on the phone regularly since that first conversation at the little-furnished, one-bedroom apartment she’d rented, where they’d both laid their cards on the table.
It was the first time she realized how much her eldest brother loved her, how much he was willing to bend for her sake. If only he’d been more flexible from the start, she wouldn’t be moping in a depressive state in below-freezing April temperatures in Canada. Or working a small barista job that didn’t have half the camaraderie she’d found at the Squad Bar. She missed the Bar, she missed the Squad membe
