Twisted by Emma Chase Page A

about wolves? They’re pack animals.
    Familial.
    Except when they’re injured.
    If that happens, the wounded wolf sneaks off in the night
    alone, so as not to attract predators. And it goes back to the last cave the group occupied. Because it’s familiar. Safe. And it stays there to recover.
    Or die.
    “Lou?” he turns toward me from the doorway. “I need some
    paper and a pen. I have to send a letter. Could you mail it for me?”
    New York City doormen don’t just open doors. They’re deliv-
    erymen, mailmen, bodyguards, and gofers.
    “Of course, Miss Brooks.”
    Twisted_1P.indd 81
    11/18/13 11:47 AM
    82
    E m m a c h a s E
    he hands me a clean sheet of paper and a high-end ballpoint
    pen. Then he goes outside to hail my cab. I sit down on the bench
    and write quickly. Any nine-year-old can tell you that’s the best
    way to rip off a Band-Aid.
    Kind of feels like a suicide note. In a way, I guess it is.
    For my career.
    Mr. John Evans:
    Due to unforeseen personal circumstances, I will no longer be
    able to fulfill the terms of my contract with Evans, Reinhart and Fisher. I hereby submit my resignation without notice.
    Regretfully,
    Katherine Brooks
    It’s cold, I know. But professionalism is the only shield I have
    left.
    You know, for a girl, there’s something special about a father’s
    approval. Maybe it’s some evolutionary leftover from the times
    when daughters were just property, to be bartered and sold to the
    highest bidder. Whatever the reason, a father’s endorsement is
    important—it carries more weight.
    When I was ten, the Greenville Parks and Recreation Depart-
    ment had Little League tryouts. Without a son to pour his baseball dreams into, my dad spent his time teaching me the finer points of the game. I was a tomboy anyway, so it wasn’t hard.
    And that year, my father thought I was too good to play soft-
    ball with the girls. That the boy’s league would be more of a challenge.
    And I believed it. Because he believed it.
    Because he believed in me.
    Billy made fun of me; he said I was going to get my nose
    Twisted_1P.indd 82
    11/18/13 11:47 AM
    t w i s t E d
    83
    broken. Delores came to watch and paint her nails on the
    bleachers. I made the team. And when the season ended, I had
    the best pitching record in the whole league. My dad was so
    proud, he put my trophy next to the cash register at the diner
    and bragged to anyone who wanted to listen. And even to those
    who didn’t.
    Three years later, he was gone.
    And it was crippling because, like a blind person who at one
    time could see, I knew exactly what I was missing. I never played
    baseball again.
    Then later, I met John Evans. he picked me—chose me—out
    of a thousand applicants. he nurtured my career. he was proud of
    every deal I closed, every success.
    And for just a moment, I knew how it felt to have a father
    again.
    And John brought me to Drew. And our lives intertwined, like
    ivy around a tree. You know how it is—his family became my fam-
    ily, and all that comes with it. Anne’s gentle admonishments, Alexandra’s protectiveness, Steven’s jokes, Matthew’s teasing . . . sweet Mackenzie.
    And now I’ve lost all them too.
    Because although I don’t think they’ll agree with what Drew
    has done, how he’s treated me, you know the saying: Blood is
    thicker. So in the end, no matter how distasteful they find Drew’s choices, they won’t be siding with me.
    “Miss Brooks, your car’s outside. Are you ready?”
    Before I fold the letter, I scribble two words under my signa-
    ture. Two painfully inadequate words.
    I’m sorry.
    Then I force my legs to stand, and I hand Lou the addressed
    envelope. I walk toward the door.
    Twisted_1P.indd 83
    11/18/13 11:47 AM
    84
    E m m a c h a s E
    From behind me, the elevator chimes. And I stop and turn to
    the big gold double doors.
    I wait.
    Hope.
    Because this is how it always happens in the movies, isn’t
    it? Some Kind of Wonderful, Pretty in Pink, and every other John hughes