“Karina.”

“Who’s Karina? Where does she live?” Ugh. Overprotective brother mode activated.

“Harrison.” I wait for him to take a breath. “I’m a big girl.” I force myself to not back down from his stare, my voice to stay steady. “I’m handling my business, okay? You don’t need to get all ape-ish on me. Stand down.”

Speaking of apes, those roommates of mine owe me big time for covering for them like this. If I’d just come out and told him, it probably wouldn’t have been all that bad. But now… I’m not so sure. I bite my lip and study his face.

I am sure, one hundred percent, that this lie needs to stay buried for the rest of our God-given lives, because if it doesn’t, if he finds out, Harrison will explode like Mount Vesuvius in Pompeii and kill all of us in the process.

He grunts again. “I worry about you, Peanut. It’s what big brothers do. It’s in the contract.” He bumps my foot with his again. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to take care of yourself.”

My turn to grunt. My stomach is so painfully sour, I might vomit. Guilt has consumed my entire body, and I can barely sit still.

“It’s not. I just know you’d never ask for help, even if you needed it. Even if your house burned down, your car stopped working, and your last outfit got covered in mud.”

Accurate. Hence the situation I’ve found myself in.

The guilt swells in my chest, threatening to implode my heart. That’s such a Harrison thing to notice—and exactly the reason I won’t ask him for help.

When I was seventeen, I snuck out to a party with my friends. Mom and Dad said I wasn’t allowed to go because Beth’s parents weren’t going to be home. I got home later that night to find Harrison had covered for me.

I’ve been disappointing him since birth. He wanted a brother to play sports with, and instead, he got a sister who wanted to play dress-up and dolls. The look of disappointment on his face as he held my hair back while I puked all night haunts me to this day.

Honesty had always been our thing, and he’s always hated lies. I hadn’t even told him I was sneaking out either. Ironically, I didn’t want to disappoint him. But when I didn’t answer his calls, he freaked out and thought something had happened.

My stomach twists at the memories.

I can’t make him cover for me, again. I can’t face that look on his face, again. I can’t be the fuck-up. Again.

“I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve got this, because if you don’t, I can help you. And this time, I need you to let me.”

My stomach falls through the floor as a wave of nausea hits. The guilt is just too much. He’s so… Harrison. So nice and helpful, and honestly the best big brother I could ever ask for, and I’m nothing more than a dirty liar.

I have to swallow at least three times before the words jammed at the back of my throat find their way out. “I’m okay, Harrison. I’ve got this under control.”

“Pinky promise.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It’s the worst kind of treason, breaking a pinky promise.

But I currently have no other choice. It’s too late to fall on my sword and repent. The damage is done. The secret has to stay a secret.

I don’t want Harrison to know I’m living a floor up from him, that his friends kept me a secret, that I want them all to bang me—separate, together, I have zero preference when it comes to them. Okay, whoa, wait. That’s a thought that’s going to fester.

Do I really want them all? Together?

My body heats, lighting up like the goal lamp at a hockey game. Fuck. Maybe I do.

Fuck. This is a problem for so, so many reasons. Not least of all that it would definitely ruin any chance the team has of making it to the playoffs.

You can’t fuck with pro athletes in the run-up to a major championship.

If I didn’t already know it, I’d have learned it last year when one of the local team’s goalies snuck in and stole Roman’s stick tape before their conference final. Of course, the only possible reason they lost was that his tape was stolen, not at all because three of our best players were out due to injuries.

Staring at Harrison’s outstretched pinky makes my skin heat so much I’m convinced I’m breaking out in hives right in front of his face. But there’s nothing else for me to do. I link my pinkie with his and give it a little squeeze. “Promise. I have everything under control.”

I have absolutely nothing under control.

I’m pretty sure my boss just told me he’s firing me, but the ringing in my ears is so fucking loud, I’m not quite sure. Who knew getting questioned by my overprotective big brother would be the highlight of my Monday?