“That’s the press—” I argued, even though I knew it wasn’t exactly true.
“And she’s been really helpful.”
To the side, I heard Gia sigh. I didn’t understand at first, but then it dawned on me. “She’s been helpful? Have you been harassed? Give me names—”
“Oh, chill out,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Gia handled it.”
“Handled what?” I demanded.
“It was nothing,” Gia said, her voice soothing, which naturally irritated me more. “A young reporter needed to learn the rules of engagement. I straightened him out, and he’s never bothered her again.”
Steam started building behind my eyes. Cassie was supposed to come to me for help. I was the one to protect her. She was my baby sister and—
“Oh. My. God.” Cassie grabbed her backpack. “That happened last year. It was nothing. But if you’re going to go all big brother on me, then I’m leaving right now.”
Fear lanced through me. It was dark out. She was alone. I thought of muggers, rapists, gang warfare, ISIS. All sorts of exaggerated dangers popped up in my mind like ghosts, most of them improbable. The other half of my brain was rapidly thinking of ways to keep Cassie with me. It wasn’t that often that we got to talk, and the last thing I wanted was for her to leave. Well, my dick was still thinking about Gia, but I’d already shoved that part of me into a mental box and slammed the lid.
“Stay for dinner,” I suddenly said. “I made your favorite.”
She abruptly brightened. “Pistachio chicken? With pasta?”
I grinned. “You know it.” Cooking was the only thing I’d worked at that wasn’t baseball. And once I had some basic skill, I’d rapidly figured out Cassie’s favorite foods. “Stay. Eat. We’ll watch your game.”
My sister groaned. “Not this one again.” She leaned over and nabbed the remote, turning off the television with a press of her finger. “I don’t need to watch it. I was there. Besides, it’s creepy that you hired someone to tape my games.”
I shrugged. “Your coach appreciates the video.” Given my schedule, there was no way I could make every game, and it was even harder to see them anonymously. So I paid someone to tape them. Cassie and I would watch the video together while I teased her about her girly dives and tried to find out if she had a boyfriend—and if she did, to discover whether I should kill the boy or not.
Normal family stuff, but especially important between Cassie and me. Our mother had died ten years ago, and our father had never recovered. Truthfully, he’d lost it during Mom’s two year battle with cancer and had never come back. He’d died a few years ago, but we’d all given up on him long before that, each in our own way.
Sophia made a big splash wherever she went, making damn sure everyone saw her. I buried myself in baseball, and Cassie… Well, Cassie had been left to suffer alone until three years ago when I realized how I’d forgotten her.
Never again.
“Come on, Tiny Mutt,” I chided as I tugged on her curl. “Stay for a bit.”
She relented with a kiss on my cheek. “Fine, Big Doofus. But you better have ice cream.”
Like I wasn’t going to stock that, even though it was a nightly temptation? Sadly, dairy was not on my anti-inflammatory diet.
Cassie and I worked to put together the meal, but I hadn’t forgotten Gia. Hell, every cell in my body hummed with awareness. But I was focused on Cassie, and I knew that the moment Gia left, my sister would pepper me with questions that I wasn’t prepared to answer. So I didn’t push Gia out of the apartment. And worse, Cassie included her in the conversation as if they were the best of friends.
“Want some chicken, Gia? Don’t forget the pasta. Connor makes it himself. He tried to teach me once, but that was way too much work for me.”
And far from keeping her professional distance, Gia slipped straight into casual friend mode, accepting the food with a delighted air. But while she was smiling her thanks—and making appreciative sounds with her first bite—I could see her mind logging all the new facts she was learning about me. I cooked. I had my own pasta maker. I was desperate for time with my little sister and nearly frantic when she talked about leaving. And Gia was a master at asking casual questions.
“So, how long have you been a chef?”
Cassie answered for me. “He picked it up in the minors. He’s great, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. So did you decide on your major? Did you get the radio gig?”
“Nah. Didn’t have the time with volleyball. Besides, I’ve decided to go pre-med, and that takes a lot of study time.”
I tried to be part of the conversation. “She’s beautiful enough to be an actress. Or a model.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “So he says, but then he keeps the press far away from me.”
True enough. I wanted her to do anything she wanted, as long as she did it from within whatever protective bubble I could put around her. I knew first-hand how obnoxious the press could be. I wanted her to test her wings slowly. What I didn’t want was anyone asking why she’d tried to kill herself.
