It’s the perfect moment to add her favorite liquor to the coffee I’ve prepared for her. She’s paying just enough attention to confirm I’m slipping it into her drink, but not enough to notice how little I’m actually pouring.
“For heaven’s sake, Ruby, just fire him already. No one’s going to miss the gardener.”
She pops a Xanax, click-clacks toward me, and jerks her drink from my grip. I smile, like always, trying to catch her gaze, but the bitterness in my throat turns sour when she spins on her heel and exits the kitchen without so much as breathing in my space.
I don’t know why I do it. I wouldn’t force a stupid smile for anyone else the way I do for Bridget. We both know she will never be my mother. My real mother’s warmth could thaw the chill from her eyes within half a second. But if it weren’t for Bridget, I’d still be circling corners to pay for my next meal, and sometimes I worry she will adopt me out of her family as easily as she adopted me into it.
Scowling into my black coffee, I take a long sip.
When I whirl around and lean against the countertop, Easton’s gaze stops my breath. Fiery whiskey eats up the room like a flame chasing an explosive. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. He saw my silent plea for his mother’s approval, and I hate myself for it.
I arch an eyebrow. “Cat got your tongue?”
His eyelids lower, that squared jaw clenching.
“And here I thought my big brother and I were finally bonding yesterday.”
He pushes back his stool and stands, his gaze moving over me in a long, slow sweep. It lands just above my jacket zipper, where my breasts threaten to spill over the red top underneath.
His movements are languid, relaxed, when he grabs his backpack off the stool beside him, and my heart patters as he closes the gap between us. Stopping at my right, he reaches for the untouched coffee he made for his father, and his bicep brushes my shoulder.
Neither of us looks at each other, but his low voice sends ripples across my skin. “Unless you want more assholes following you into bathrooms, you should zip up your fucking jacket.”
My pulse thrums, buzzing in my ears.
His breath strokes my cheek. “And we both know I’m not your damn brother, Eva.”
I swallow. Breathless.
Just when I turn my head to look at him, he disappears in his mother’s trail, and I’m left staring after their faded shadows.
Easton
Ichug the ice-cold water until I get a brain freeze. Then I chug some more.
Sweat drips down my neck, my back. The sun’s relentless, beating down on me and the few remaining guys on the team trying to catch their breath. I’m worn out, but I sure as hell needed the extra hour today.
From across the football field, Zach jogs toward me, his curly hair damp with sweat. Zach’s the one who convinced me to join the football team with him last year. I caved for the distraction, a shinier college application, and a way to burn off energy.
Breathing hard like the rest of us, Zach pats my back when he reaches me at the bench. “So, you coming tonight or what?”
Wiping my forehead and neck with a cool cloth, I shoot him a sideways look. “What? To the party?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when do I do parties?”
“You used to all the time, man.” He frowns, squinting beneath the sun’s rays. “Isn’t that how you and Whitney first hooked up? At her party?”
“I’ve got other shit to focus on this year.” I shrug and look away at the lie. “I told Whitney you’d take her since I figured you’d be going. You know how she gets when she drinks. I’d feel better about it if you could keep an eye on her anyway.”
“All right. Your loss. I’ll probably just get an Uber for us though.” He smirks. “Carter might be an asshole, but he knows how to fucking party.”
My brows crash together. “Carter’s going?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” He grabs a water bottle from the cooler before we start heading to the lockers. “It’s at Elijah’s place.”
My jaw ticks. My gaze is fixed straight ahead while we enter the locker room, but all I see is that asshole’s smug expression when he followed Eva out of the bathroom. Her face and neck flushed. Wrists raw and red.
