“Your brother can take you,” Gwendoline says in an exasperated tone.
Stepbrother. And I’m sorry, what?I scrub a hand over my tired face. The last thing I feel like doing is making small talk with Willow.
“I have plans after dinner,” I remind my father.
“It won’t kill you to drop your sister home first,” he says as he turns his back on me and opens the car door for Gwendoline.
“Stepsister,” I grumble under my breath. To Willow, I nod towards my Jeep. “Let’s go.”
She hesitates, her eyes darting to my father’s car as if trying to work out if she could fit on her mother’s lap to avoid having to ride with me. After realising she doesn’t have a choice, she heaves a deep sigh and follows me to my car.
As she shuts her door, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of vanilla and oriental lilies. My cock twitches in response, and my phone burns in my pocket as I think of my angel, hopefully waiting for me at Euphoria. I clear my throat and squirm in my seat as I start the ignition and shift into reverse.
“So, what did you think of the game?” I ask, focusing on the rearview mirror as I back out of the park.
“It was fine,” Willow replies. She stares out the window as we drive towards town.
Christ, she’s really not going to make this easy on me. “What are you studying?”
“You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me, Luca. I want to be here even less than you want me here.”
Her voice sparks something familiar inside of me, but I push it down. My thoughts are so consumed with my angel that I’m surely going crazy.
I shrug. “I’m curious. We’ve been living together for four years, and I don’t even know what course you’re doing. Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”
Willow finally turns her head to look at me, her pale blue eyes studying me before she answers. “Music.”
“You play an instrument?” I ask.
“Piano and guitar. I want to be a songwriter and composer.”
“You sing?” My brows shoot up, impressed.
It’s her turn to shrug. “Not in front of people.”
“Why?” My curiosity is piqued.
“What are you studying?” she asks in an attempt to change the subject, but I’m not letting her off that easily.
“Why don’t you sing in front of people?”
“I don’t like being the centre of attention, I guess.” Her words feel pointed, and I cast a quick look over at her. Her blonde hair falls over her face, hiding her expression from me. For a brief second, I imagine reaching over and tucking it behind her ear, but I shake that off quickly.
“There has to be a reason for that,” I prompt.
“You really want me to tell you?”
“Yes.”
“In our final year of high school, I was in the senior choir, and we were doing a performance at assembly. When I stepped up to do my solo, Breanna tripped me, and I fell flat on my face in front of the entire school.”
I wince. “That was you?”
She looks at me in bewilderment. “Are you serious?”
My wince turns into a grimace. “I missed that assembly because we had state championships, but I remember the guys laughing about …” I trail off when I realise what I’m saying. “Shit, I’m sorry. I had no idea. You seemed to get along when she was at the house. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I?” she asks with a humourless laugh. “What would you have done? Asked her to leave me alone?”
