Page 33 of I'm Yours

Odd.

If someone was waiting to murder me, I would think they’d be stealthier than that.

Another step.

A door shuts with a gentle click. So quiet that if I hadn’t been holding my breath I probably wouldn’t have heard it. Is my assailant in my bedroom? That’s the area from the house it sounded but I can’t be sure. I’m in the middle of a monumental freak-out session so it’s quite possible it never even happened.

My heart is beating so fast, I’m surprised it doesn’t jump out of my chest and land on the floor. I gulp, tighten my grip on the broom handle, and take a deep breath before continuing to walk through my house. A house that someone is currently squatting in like a jerk.

The door creaks as if it’s being opened and I almost start crying. I look at my weapon of choice and give it a pep talk in my mind.

It’s me and you, broomy. We’ve got this.

“Oh my gosh. I’ve turned into a nutcase,” I mutter and roll my eyes at myself, stand up straight, and make the decision to be a badass.

I start down the hallway with my broom raised.

“I know you’re in here! Show yourself!”

For some reason, the person who is waiting to murder me chuckles.

“I have a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it!”

That gets the chuckling to turn into full-on laughing. A laugh I know very, very well.

“Samuel?” I call out my brother’s name. What is he doing here? And why?

“Of course it’s me. Who were you expecting?”

He comes around the corner looking nothing like the little brother he used to be. Standing at just over six foot, his hair is dark blond and shaggy, his skin clear of any tattoos and facial hair. The opposite of Reed in looks, which is a stupid thought to have in this particular moment. He’s broad shouldered and he has a stocky build. He’s wearing his signature old thread bare concert t-shirt (this one Aerosmith) that he no doubt found in a thrift shop somewhere and well-worn jeans.

When he sees the weapon I was just bragging about, he bursts into another fit of laughter. “What the hell is your problem? Did you not hear me pull up?”

I point to the broom and huff. “Does it look like I heard you? I had my earbuds in.”

He gives me a protective brother look. “Maybe you should stop wearing them while you’re outside by yourself.”

I shrug, indifferent. He probably has a point but I’m not about to tell him that.

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t come see my favorite sister?” He flashes me his grin that usually gets him anything he’s about to ask for.

I roll my eyes and lean the broom against the wall and walk back to the laundry room to take off my boots. When I come back, he’s sweeping up the dirt trail I made when I was anxiously awaiting someone to jump out and hack me up with a chainsaw.

“Aww. You’re the sweetest.” He turns his head and looks at me, that grin still in place. I place a hand on my hip and narrow my eyes on him. “What do you want?”

He clutches his heart and sets the broom aside. “I’m hurt.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn toward the kitchen and open the fridge door.

“Who you trying to sell that to? I practically raised you, boy.”

“Oh, puh-lease. Still throwing that around?”

I raise an eyebrow and pull out the leftover lasagna from the fridge and place it on the counter. “You’re denying that?”

“Well, no…”

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