“I’m not sure yet. Ask Shayla first and we’ll go from there.”
“Okay.”
“I love you,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“I love you too.”
“Talk to you tonight.”
Collapsing on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, my heart feeling light and full, my cheeks aching from the huge smile that’s been on my face since the moment I saw his name on my phone. I take a few minutes to revel in the happiness, knowing that in this house, at any moment, it could be taken away.
I hear footsteps stomping around, a door slamming, and music blaring just above me. Trystan is home. Maybe he’d take me to the game tomorrow. He’s been somewhat nice to me this week. It’s worth asking. I get up from my bed and leave my room, hoping to catch him in a good mood.
As I’m walking through the living room, I hear the front door open.
“You can stay here for now,” Braden says.
“Thanks, babe,” I hear a girl say. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Peeking around the corner, I see Kristen standing in the entryway . . . kissing Braden.
What the hell?
Braden wraps his arm around her narrow waist and pulls her against his body. “We’ll finish this when I get home.”
“Can’t wait,” she says, running her hand down his chest.
He smiles. “I knew you were just using Novak.”
She smiles. “It was always you, babe.”
He smacks her ass. “Go wait in my room. I’ll be back after practice.”
I duck behind the wall as Braden leaves, then listen as Kristen runs up the stairs.
Getting out my phone, I text Jackson.
Kristen is here! She was kissing Braden!
Jackson doesn’t respond. He’s at practice and isn’t checking his phone.
What do I do? I want to go confront Kristen, but Jackson would tell me not to. He’d want me to keep an eye on her and see what she’s up to.
I quietly make my way up the stairs, even though there’s no way she’d ever hear me with the music blaring from Trystan’s room.
As I go down the hall, I see Braden’s door is closed.
I text Trystan.
Open your door. I have a question.
The door swings open. Trystan is standing there in boxer briefs and nothing else. “What do you want?”
“For you to put some clothes on, for one. Then I have a favor to ask.”
He motions me into his room and closes the door, his head bobbing to the music.
“Do you always hang out in your underwear?” I ask, almost yelling so I can be heard above the music.
