Sophie suddenly dives forward, clutching my waist like some movie heroine trying to stop her husband from walking out. “Where are you going, Freya?” she cries, looking up at me.
I blink down at her, startled. No one’s ever tried to hold me back before I even moved. What does she think I’m about to do?
“You can’t go fight her, Freya. I know you love your brother, but…” she hesitates. “It sounds like he’s handling things civilly.”
“He’s playing games. I don’t play games, I like my things simple and clean.” I try to pry her off, but she’s latched on tight.
“At least wait until your parents leave,” she pleads. “If you do anything to Sara while they’re here, it’ll be a disaster.”
I take a deep breath that doesn’t help. “Fine. Let go of me first.”
“You’ll just run off again,” she accuses,
