She jerks, eyes coming to mine.
And I see it—part of why I’ve kept my distance.
Because her siren’s call of soft and steel makes me want to do everything I always promised myself I wouldn’t do.
Claim a woman as my own.
Because that bastard is my father.
And because…I don’t trust myself to?—
“Ky is your sister?” she asks quietly and I clench my teeth together so sharply my jaw acts. Because I know she’s thinking about the news stories, about how she and my sister endured similar awfulness at the hands of similarly awful men.
I nod. “Kylie.”
“Older?” she asks. “Younger?”
“She’s two years younger.”
“Where is she now?”
“Here in town with me.” I drop my fork onto my plate. “After Mom died, she came to this coast and moved in a couple of months ago when she picked up a teaching gig.”
Joey’s head tilts to the side, that soft surpassing the steel. “What grade does she teach?”
“Seventh grade history.” I chuckle. “For some reason, she’s decided that her jam is corralling teenagers when they’re objectively the most teenager-like.”
“Seems to me that the trademark Connors backbone isn’t afraid of a couple teenagers.”
“Seems to me you’d be wrong.” I chuckle again. “I helped her one day in class a couple of weeks back. Swear to fuck I’ve never sweated more, not even when I was playing in the league.”
Joey giggles and it’s such a rare sound, so light and sweet andnotlike steel that, for a moment, I’m frozen again, taking in the beauty of her amusement, of her smile, of the way her eyes dance. “It was really that bad?”
“It was worse.” I snag my empty plate and hers, bring them both to the sink and start rinsing. “One kid told me I need to start moisturizing because I look scaly like a zoo snake.”
There’s silence.
But only for a heartbeat before she bursts out laughing.
And fuck if that isn’t as beautiful as her giggle.
I go back for her now empty bowl, take it over to the sink, and load it in the dishwasher next to the plates and silverware.
She’s still laughing by the time I make it back over to her, and I don’t even give a fuck that it’s at my expense.
She’s laughing.
Not crying.
“I told Ky I’d never go back,” I say solemnly, watching those green eyes dance.
“What?” she teases. “You’re not going to start a moisturizingroutine? Skin care is really important.” Her brows flick up, eyes scanning my face. “Especiallyas we get older.”
I frown at her, but inside I’m laughing too. “That was a weak roast, Red. You’ve been in locker rooms often enough—I know you can do better than that.”
“I’m too content and full of Dragon Delight to truly put the work in.”
Grinning, I climb back up onto my stool.
