His lips twitch and he shrugs. “Happy tohelp.”
Holly steps closer, voice dropping. “Sierra… those pictures? Those clippings? That wasn’t just a crush. That was?—”
I cut her off before she cracks me open like a fortune cookie full of feelings. “I know what it was. I lived it.”
Holly nods, but her eyes narrow, giving me the full girl-bestie lie detector test. “Okay. Fine. But if you need anything… I’m here.”
With one sharp nod, I bolt—away from the case, away from the evidence, away from Everett, away from the version of me who still can’t stop wanting him. Before my heart does something exceptionally stupid.
Again.
Chapter Two
Sierra
Whipping the door open,I bolt out the door, and welcome the cold night air cooling my overheated face.
It’s fine. Totally fine. It’s just Chance and Holly. It’s not like Chance didn’t already know something was up, after all, he let everyone assume I had something going on with him, so he’s got my back.
But it’s different having them see it. The notes I wrote on the backs of those pictures.
The confessions.
Proof of feelings I stuffed so far down I figured they’d died of suffocation by now. But Everett didn’t see them. That’s all that mattered.
Thank God. Thank Christmas. Thank every cosmic force having pity on me tonight.
Okay, reset.
I straighten my spine (which protests), inhale deeply (which does not help), and yank open the door.
By the time I make my way back to the great room—face numb, pride MIA, heart finally settling back where it belongs—the place is louder. Not because there are more people, but because the existing ones have climbed the buzz ladder to a solid level six.
I’m behind.
“Bug!” Everett’s Uncle Seth calls, abbreviating my nickname in a way I should absolutely hate—but love from him.
He leans back on his barstool like the human embodiment of a wink and waves me over. “Come on, sweetheart. Get over here and give your favorite guy a hug!”
The flirty full-time menace in flannel is at the center of it all, holding court with a whiskey in one hand and a smirk in the other, spinning some ridiculous story that has half the group wheezing.
Clustered around him amidst the clinking glasses and easy laughter are the rest of the lodge’s lifelong disaster crew.
Nick and Charlie are tucked into each other like they didn't spend twenty years wanting to murder each other. Fake relationship, real feelings, baby on the way. The whole nine.
Chance and Holly are worse—his hand on her thigh, fingers toying with the hem of her sweater like he's one distraction away from forgetting they're in public. Her head thrown back in laughter like she doesn't care who sees.
Partners in chaos. Partners in crime. Partners in keeping my goddamn secrets.
God, what is that like? Touching someone without having to scan the room like a fugitive. No fear of laughing too loud, or leaning in too close. Just being with the person you want, out in the open, like it’s not some high-stakes betrayal. But nope.
My three overprotective idiot brothers stamped me off-limits years ago under some sacred, testosterone-soaked bro code they muttered about like scripture handed down by the gods of dumb male loyalty.
Chance and Nick eventually got over their mutual violations. But me?
I was more than just the baby sister. The last piece of Mom. The one thing they couldn't lose.
So when they went off to college, they left Everett behind with very specific instructions: Watch her. Protect her. Don't you dare touch her. Three simple rules. And he broke all of them.
