A terrible twosome who drink wine, crochet terribly, watch inane TV shows, and apparently, go shopping.
“What for?” I ask.
My sister claps her hands together. “I have a new apartment to decorate!”
I scowl.
Which, because my sister lives to torment me, makes her smile. She pats my chest. “It was only a matter of time, honey.”
My scowl deepens. “I have plenty of space. There’s no need for you to move out.”
“Regardless,” she says. “I am.”
“Kylie—”
“Well,” Joey interjects. “On the note of that now painfully familiar argument, I’ll leave you to your torture.” Her fingers find mine, wrap tight, holding me in place as her eyes search my face for several moments. Then she shakes her head slightly, lips curving up into a sad smile. “So I can get on with enacting my own.”
“Get it, girl,” Kylie says.
Smile turning warm, Joey lifts up on tiptoe and presses her lips to my jaw.
I feel that deep, soothing the rough edges inside me.
She’s been careful about the PDA here at the rink—not because the guys haven’t picked up on the change in our relationship. They have—of course they have. They’re smart and gossip spreads through the organization like pollen on a windy, spring day, especially after she met with Cal…and then Cal met with me, giving us the…
Well, not really theokayso much as the not going to shitcan us for doing something that’s frowned upon.
Luckily, consent is a thing.
Along with a winning record and playoff experience.
Still, we’re not exactly throwing it in anyone’s face.
But we’re not exactly hiding it either.
“Have fun, Red,” I tell her.
Another long, searching gaze.
Then she squeezes Kylie’s arm and slips from the room.
When the door closes with a soft click, my sister turns back to me, accusation in her blue eyes. “You promised me you’d make it better. Not worse.”
I still, those words slicing through me like a sharp blade. “Kylie,” I rasp.
“What are you hiding?”
I sigh. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” She shoves lightly at my chest. “I can deal with you hiding stuff from me—I get it. You’re the overprotective older brother, but that doesn’t work in a relationship, Damon. It justdoesn’t.”
“And what wouldyouknow about a relationship?” I snap.
Her inhalation is sharp, but not as sharp as the pain in her eyes.
“Shit, Kylie,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean that. I’m an asshole. I-I?—”
Fuck.
