“To sh-show C-Cooper the s-story,” Maple pants.
“What story?”
“L-love on F-fire!”
Cooper stops.
I stop.
Hiramys whips her head around.
“Kiva, let her go,” I say quietly as I peek out from behind Cooper.
“I didn’t take pictures,” Maple says. “God, you’re cranky. I get it. Look,I get it. But I just wanted to show him.”
“Show me what?” Cooper asks.
“How it ends.”
I gasp.
“Howwhatends?” Kiva growls.
“Kiva,let her go,” I repeat.
“Wow, she’s hot,” my half-brother Harold mutters.
I might not claim him.
Maple shoots a look at Cooper, then at me. Her face is red and splotchy like she’s embarrassed.
Possibly mortified.
“You wroteLove on Fire,” Cooper says reverently.
Kiva backs off, and Maple pulls her legs under herself and stares at the ground. “Yeah,” she mutters. “And you made it famous.”
“Dude. Maple. That story isawesome. You made it famous yourself.”
She lifts a squint at him. “Did you just call medude?”
“It’s a Cooperism when he’s temporarily speechless,” I interject. “Highly complimentary.”
“You wroteLove on Fire,” he repeats.
Kiva heaves a heavy sigh.
I stifle a smile.
I know that tone.
So does she.
“You’re a Fireballs fan,” he says to her.
“I mean, duh. Who isn’t in this country?”
“She isnotlike Mackenzie,” I whisper to him.
