Her exhalation comes out as a sigh, which pisses me off. She’s going to act as though she’s the long-suffering victim of my neglect? Be fucking serious is what I want to say, my blood starting to simmer.
It has not escaped my attention that, at eighteen, she’s an adult and could have chosen to attend any college in the country that I didn’t happen to be going to at the time. Her presence here is as much her fault as my dad’s.
“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Her emphasis on the word important doesn’t impress me, and I let that show on my face.
“Let me come inside, okay, Shane?”
My gaze finally notices a blue duffel bag on the porch next to her booted foot.
“Going somewhere?”
“Yes, into your place as soon as you step back.”
I give her a hard look that would make anyone else turn tail and flee. She doesn’t.
“Why would I invite you in?”
She licks her lips and swallows. “Shane, come on.” Her voice is soft and sweet, just the way I remember. A siren song. Which should make me toss her off my porch and slam the door, but instead it makes me want to toss her onto my couch to fuck her. This is why I prefer to keep my distance; I have made her off-limits for myself, and, therefore, it’s a bad idea to be around her.
“No,” I say, then I step back and shut the door.
I think about the call from my dad. Did he want to give me the heads-up that the princess was on her way? He’d better not have told her it was all right to come by. And voicemails complaining that I didn’t let her in will only piss me off more because they should know better.
But he’s a lawyer who never loses a case. Relentless arguing is what pays his bills and keeps him in seven-thousand-dollar bespoke suits. He has never given up on the idea of “getting the family back together.”
I jog up the stairs and into my bedroom. My phone’s blinking.
Text messages and the voicemail.
“Do not start this shit, Ethan,” I whisper into the empty room. When I check, only the voicemail is from him. The texts are from random Granthorpe people.
I tap the screen, and his voicemail plays.
“Shane, it’s Dad. Second message. I’d appreciate a call back today. We haven’t been able to reach Avery this morning. If I haven’t heard from her by this afternoon, I’ll need you to drive to her dorm to check on things. You don’t need to talk to her. Just be sure she’s all right.”
The princess is dodging calls from the king and queen? That’s new.
I send my father a text.
Shane:Saw Avery. She’s fine.
Dad:Where did you see her? Are you sure it was her? Because Sheri’s calls and mine are going to voicemail.
Shane:Yeah, I’m sure. Saw her across room at party last night. Spotted her alive n well today too.
I’mcurious about why she’s not answering their calls, but I don’t take the bait. There’s a plan. I never falter from it. Keep my distance. Pretend she doesn’t exist.
The doorbell rings.
Seriously?
Then there’s knocking hard enough to carry up the stairs and into my room. Goddammit. If she thinks she can manipulate me the way her mom manipulates Ethan, she’s very much mistaken.
The seconds tick by into minutes. The knocking stops, then starts again. Anger brews inside me. Who the hell does she think she is?
Avery has never been this pushy with me. But she’s gotten away with plenty in the past, so maybe habit has her thinking she can do this even with me.
