The twins crack up.
Sam glares at them like they kicked her puppy.
"I hate you guys. I thought you were my friends."
"We are," Liam says, smirking. "We're just not liars."
"Everyone knows why you're here, babe," Luke adds.
Sam lifts her chin, insulted. "Well, not today." She hooks her arm through mine and leans against me.
"In fact," she says, smiling way too sweetly, "I came to see... you. Yup.You.To talk."
I stare at her.
Then laugh.
"You're such a horrible liar."
Sam grins — busted, shameless, and not even pretending to deny it.
And then her attention snaps away from me so fast I swear I hear her neck crack.
Because footsteps hit the stairs.
It's fucking Elijah Deveraux.
He comes down the last step, hoodie half-zipped, hair damp from a shower, looking between us with that unreadable expression he's been wearing lately.
He stops. Just for a second. Eyes flick to me. Then to Sam.
And my sister?
Jesus Christ.
She lights up like someone plugged her into a damn outlet.
And just like that, Sam shoots off the couch so fast her throw pillow topples over. She practically magnetizes toward him, all bright and stupidly hopeful — that sunshine smile snapping ontoher face the second she spots him, like her whole mood just flipped itself upright.
She lifts a hand and waves way too enthusiastically.
"Hi, Eli!"
And what does the asshole do?
Keeps walking.
Straight past her.
Doesn't blink.
Doesn't nod.
Doesn't even pretend to acknowledge she exists.
Sam deflates a millimeter — just enough that only someone who loves her would notice — and that's all it takes for my patience to evaporate.
Before she can so much as stand up or scamper after him like some heartbroken Disney side character, I'm already on my feet.
