“You make me sound like a piranha,” I snort.
“Worse, you’re a slut who hasn’t had sex with a man in like five months. You’re like a sexual predator,” she says.
“Ew, don’t call me that!” I turn away from her and reach for the soap along the back wall. “I’m not sleeping with Brighton Black. He’s a roommate and a friend.”
“Who’s probably packing a weapon and a nasty set of bedroom kinks,” Kaia adds, and all I can do is groan.
An hour later, Boone is sliding plates across the table to us at the Hollow. I pick at the plastic on the drink menu along the corner thatcovers the intricate logo beneath. A skeleton hand holds a cup of whiskey with the first responders' red cross spray-painted roughly behind it all and framed in a simple circle. I always wondered if it was hand-drawn, and with Kaia in my head, suddenly, I’m wondering if Brighton is an artist beneath all that mystery. Picturing him with a pencil and notebook doesn’t do it for me, though, and I push the menu out of my reach and pull my burger close.
“Good game today, pussycats,” Boone says, and Kaia gently stabs him with a fork. “That last push was insane, Reaper.” He points to me, completely unfazed by her, as he gets called from another table. “I’ll have Maggie bring some drinks around.”
Once he’s gone, Kaia collects the pickle from her plate, holding it out for me, in trade for my tomatoes, but when I lift my bun, there aren’t any. She looks at me and then frowns with a tiny shrug, still offering me her pickle without trade. I stare at the bare black bean burger in confusion, looking around at everyone else’s to see that they all had tomatoes. I look over the booth and find Brighton’s gaze on me from the bar.
He’s wearing his Hollow shirt, and his dark hair is brushed off his stern face. His jaw does that infuriating ticking as he watches me, but he nods and goes back to work the second I make eye contact, like he was embarrassed to get caught staring.I’ll figure you out, Brighton Black, just please, for the love of all that is holy, do not be a serial killer. I don’t know if I can be attracted to Dexter.
“Shit, the drink menu for the month is incredible,” Kaia waves it in my face, and I give it a proper look.
The Reaper: Brown Sugar Espresso Martini made with top-shelf vodka, a house-made BS syrup, and freshly brewed espresso.
“The Reaper?” I huff, and Kaia gives me that knowing look. He could have written out brown sugar, but he’s left it BS on purpose, and it makes me smile.
“Roommates, justfriends,” she mocks and goes back to her meal.
Every time I undo the zippers on my boots, I feel his stupid hands on my calves—and panic. I kick them to the side and follow the noise of my siblings through the house, finding them all at the island doing their homework while Gabe makes dinner.
“What up, shitheads,” I say, kissing Toby’s bright red head. He’s not doing homework, but he is creating some of the worst artwork I’ve ever seen in my life. He looks up at me and smiles, pushing my arm away from his head, and refocuses.
“Hey, can you look at this?” Rue asks from the other end, and I move around, getting a small wave from Gabe as I lean over what my sister is working on. She’s the mirror of me, with dark hair and a wide, goofy smile that counterbalances her big, sad brown eyes. She’s working on a comic strip for a book report on The Outsiders.
“It’s cute,” I answer honestly, “they need a little more gruff, though.” I point to the drawing of them in the brawl. “More dirt, more blood,” I instruct. “Where’s Reid?” I ask, standing up and giving Shana a kiss on the head to match Toby’s as she works on a math minute sheet.
“Right here,” Reid saunters into the kitchen with Mom on his tail in a huff. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he narrows his bright green eyes at me. The only sibling who got Dad’s eyes and a constant reminder of what we had all gone through at his hands.
“Hey, slow down,” I say to Mom as she misses the table with her purse and it crashes to the floor, makingRue jump out of her skin. I put my hand on her shoulder and wait for Mom to take a breath. “I went to pick up your brother from practice at school, and he wasn’t there!”
The panic in her voice is palpable. Reid groans.
“I threw on my headphones and jogged home as a cool down,” he defends himself. “She’s insane.”
“I’ve warned you before that you can’t do that! You have to tell me where you are!” She chokes up and loses her cool again.
“He’s not going to fucking grab me off the street, Mom!” Reid slams the fridge shut and stomps away, leaving everyone in the kitchen wide-eyed and concerned.
Gabe pulls the pan off the stove and moves toward Mom, ushering her from the kitchen. I take over the cooking, dumping the ground beef into the sauce mixture and checking the pasta before turning to my siblings.
“So, who else got into trouble today?” I ask gently, and the three of them stare at me, terrified. Rue’s chest is thumping, and I feel bad for her because I can’t comfort her racing heart with my own. “Oh, come on, I won’t tell Mom and Dad. Give me the goods,” I beg them.
A smile creeps onto Toby’s face, “Oh, I know you did something bad, what was it?”
“I let Lady Gaga out of her cage, and I can’t find her,” he shrugs, knowing full well that Mom hates that fucking snake.
“I still can’t believe you named your snake Lady Gaga,” I laugh.
“It’s all he watches on YouTube, day after day. Lady Gaga.” Rue adds with a smile. “Dad put garlic bread in the oven,” she says, and her nose sniffs the air. “It’s burning,” she adds.
“Shit,” I swear. “I mean, shoot.” I pop the oven open and, without thinking, shove my hand inside to grab the pan. On contact with the heat, my skin burns, and suddenly, shit isn’t the worst thing they’ve heard. I flick the faucet on as Gabe comes wandering back into the kitchen because of the commotion and grabs the pan from the oven as I run my hand under cool water.
“Are you alright?” he asks me, sliding the nearly burnt bread onto the stove top to cool.
