A loaf of bread pokes into my back. I swat it away and knock something off a shelf.
It lands with athudat my feet.
Great. I’m barefoot, damp, and now standing on a rogue bag of pasta.
“Sara,” Trent exclaims. “What brings you here?”
“I was in the area,” Sara says, and I think I see her through a narrow gap, embracing Trent.
My nape prickles.
“Thought I’d pop by and wish Uncle a belated happy birthday.”
The breath I’m holding releases, but with it comes the realisation. They’re family. Trent stuffed me in here because he doesn’t want his lie exposed.
“Open up some windows, Trent. It’s a bit stuffy in here.”
Trent obliges, but when his back is turned as he shoves up a stiff window frame, Sara starts flinging open kitchen cupboards, pulling out mugs, flicking the switch to boil the jug, and...
The tea bags are in here. With me.
Trent is a sudden yelp. “Sara, sit. Let me?—”
Too late.
Light and air rush around me and I smile at shock-faced Sara. I manage a small wave. “Hi.”
Trent reaches the pantry, trying hard to keep his expression cool and even. But there’s a flush in his cheeks, and it isn’t just panic. It’s something warmer, quicker.
Sara turns to him. She smiles. I’m eyed slowly, up and down, and thrown a wink. “I see what’s going on here.” She whacks Trent’s arm playfully. “You don’t have to hide him. Grandpa will be happy you finally have a boyfriend.”
Pasta snaps underfoot as I jerk up straighter. My gaze swings wildly to Trent’s; he looks back at me with eyes that suggest I play along.
I glare back with a look that saysif you make this any more complicated...
But also:I hope he makes it complicated.
Trent reaches into the pantry and pulls me against his side, arm looping around my naked shoulders. “Cat’s out of the bag, babe.”
His fingertips drum on my arm, like it’s my turn to get us out of this. When I refuse to say anything, he clears his throat. “We don’t want to announce it to Grandpa yet. So if you could keep this to yourself...”
“He’s in his house, looking like this . . .”
“Grandpa thinks we’re friends. He just crashed after the birthday bash last night.”
Sara keeps swinging her gaze between us, and each time she does, Trent curls me closer against him. So close, my towel is in danger of coming loose. His fingers plead some more into my arms and recalling how he carried me to bed and didn’t ask questions I couldn’t handle last night... I relent. “It’s my wish not to say anything,” I murmur and turn a tight smile on Trent. “I’m not sure how serious it is.” I look back to Sara. “I don’t want to upset Grandpa.”
Sara’s smile softens. “Understood. My lips are sealed. For now.”
She watches us for a beat too long. I feel her taking us in, her curiosity simmering beneath all the easy smiles.
I glance sideways and catch a flicker in Trent’s eyes. It isn’t flustered. It isn’t amused. It’s measured. Not quite panic. Not quite calm.
Calculated.
He’s already stitching the story tighter around us. Charm in place. Lies steadied. Smile easy.
“Upset me with what?” Grandpa calls, snapping in from the hallway.
