"Hey, pervert," a sharp voice hisses from behind me, making me stumble mid-step.
What the hell? I turn, heart jolting, to see Missy standing in Stormy's doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe. How long has she been there?
I wander over, keeping my voice low so as not to wake Stormy.
"What are you doing here?" I whisper. "Apart from sneaking up on people?"
Missy scoffs.
"Oh, well, good morning to you too, brother!"
I narrow my eyes.
"You're the one greeting me by calling me a pervert."
"Ahh, yes. Well, you were practically drooling over Stormy while she slept."
"I wasn’t perving on her," I say keeping my voice even. "Her book had fallen, and I guess she looked cold, so I covered her back up. That’s all ..."
"Hmm." She tilts her head, arms crossed, studying me. "Still seems a bit pervy to me."
"Whatever. I’m leaving," I mutter, turning to go.
But before I can take a step, she catches my arm, pulling me back, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.
"You know, I've been stopping over here, helping out when I can between work and everything. I'm really starting to like her."
I let out a long, slow exhale, irritation prickling beneath my skin. Jensen’s been on at me about how much he likes Stormy, and now my sister? Everyone and their dog—literally—are getting attached to her way too easily.
I fold my arms.
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, my tone flat, trying to act unbothered.
"God, you're so cold sometimes."
I don’t dignify that with a response, instead waiting for the inevitable point she’s trying to make because I’m not trying to be cold, I’m just trying not to get pulled in.
She shakes her head.
"Anyway, Stormy doesn’t have a vehicle, and she hasn’t had time to sort one yet. She really needs one to get back and forth from the building."
I shrug, but it’s more out of discomfort than dismissal.
"I mean … that’s not really something I can help with."
Missy narrows her eyes, the same way she always did when we’d fall out as kids.
"Well, I’ve been thinking …"
I arch a brow.
"Go on."
"You know that truck you’ve been fixing up? The one you said is almost finished?" She pauses just long enough for dramatic effect. "I thought maybe you could let Stormy borrow it?"
I hesitate. That truck’s been my project for months. Something I’ve poured time into, something that’s mine. It’s personal. And I’d be handing it over to someone I’m trying to keep my distance from … it’d feel too close. Like letting her into a part of my life I’ve kept separate.
I shake my head slowly.
