I tuck my phone into my back pocket, comb my fingers through my damp hair, and slip my backpack over one shoulder. When I exit my bedroom, I intend to go straight downstairs, but like always, my feet stop. My gaze swings to the end of the hall, to Eva’s shut door.
Last night replays in my head, and a confusing mixture of frustration and guilt stirs in my gut. I don’t know which is worse: that I was an asshole, or that I followed her again. But if I hadn’t followed her, what would have happened? Anger flares beneath my skin at the thought. I’m pissed she was so reckless. Pissed she’s been keeping secrets. But mostly, I’m pissed I didn’t try to stop her from leaving in the first place. I should have calmed down by now, but the sensation is still lodged in my chest like a bullet.
I try to push the feeling down, but before I realize it, I’m standing in front of her door. I stare at it, having no idea what the fuck I’m doing. What the hell is so important in The Pitts she keeps risking going there alone at night?
Whocould be so important?
My jaw tightens, and I curse my thoughts for going in that direction. She was fucking attacked. How far would he have gotten if I hadn’t intervened? Eva’s tough as nails. A fighter. So, why didn’t she fight back?
I rub the back of my neck and inhale a deep, calming breath. I just need to make sure she’s okay.
Any brother would do that, right?
I’m still standing in front of her door like an idiot when it swings open, and we’re face-to-face.
Eva’s eyes widen.
My gaze drops to the white towel wrapped around her body, and I swallow. It’s tucked under her arms, knotted right between smooth, round breasts, and barely long enough to skim the tops of her toned thighs. Heat pulses through me, running straight to my groin.
When I drag my focus back up to her face, she quirks a brow, and I clear my throat, glancing away.
Now is not the fucking time to be hard for my sister.
“Here to order me around some more?”
My jaw locks, and I check that my parents’ door is still closed before meeting her gaze. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean to come off that way?”
“Hmm. If you’re referring to being cocky and superior, I’m going to have to go with a firmno.”
“Eva—”
“But”—she leans on her doorframe and crosses her arms—“I might accept an apology.”
“An apology?” Is she serious?
“Mhmm.”
I let out an amused breath, shaking my head. “For saving you.”
“You didn’tsaveme. You intercepted.”
My lips twitch in spite of myself. So fucking stubborn. The garage door sounds, and we both jolt. My gaze darts toward the empty stairwell. I swallow, taking a long step back, away from her.
My mom’s three-year-old threat blares in my ears like a siren. What the hell am I doing? One look is all it would take to get caught.
My heart pummels.
“I, uh—” I grip the nape of my neck, walking backward. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
I spin around, and each step toward the stairs is like trudging through mud. My dad’s right on cue to be getting home. I don’t know why my palms sweat at the thought when it’s not like he’s going to notice I’m here. But I make his coffee anyway. Because there’s a chance. A chance he’ll look my way, a chance he’ll ask about my grades or football. I’m living on fucking coffee and chances.
I leave his steaming mug by his briefcase on the counter and carry mine to the island, where I slip my backpack off my shoulder. After heading to the fridge, I fill up a tall glass of orange juice. Sometimes, Eva doesn’t drink it. But sometimes, she does. Heat flares through me as I remember the way she chugged it last week while I watched. The deliberate swipe of her tongue across her lips, the slow, stubborn smile.
Forcing the distracting image away, I remove my laptop from my backpack and log onto my online college courses. I knock out as much as I can before school. Guess Eva can have her fucking secrets, because I have mine too. Kind of pathetic I don’t even have to try to hide them. My parents are more likely to move to a nudist colony and grow their own vegetables than to ever ask what I’m working on. Besides, I don’t think I want them knowing I want to get my undergrad and then pass the bar exam anyway. My mom would get excited and pressure me even more to give up on becoming a cop, and worse, my dad would think I’m just doing it to try to prove something to him.
Heels click-clack down the staircase. The same moment my mom enters the kitchen, I hear the shower turn off upstairs.
Eva.
