Page 118 of Three Reckless Words

That invisible knife stabs me in the heart.

I hate that she’s done this, making him believe she’s here to stay, and now I feel like the bad guy for being suspicious.

“All right, bud. She’s waiting in the kitchen.”

“Evans, let’s go.”

Colt grabs his phone and sprints off the sofa. Evans follows, nodding awkwardly at me as he passes, and we head back up together.

To my relief, Winnie and Rina aren’t talking.

Winnie rummages around in the fridge for some orange juice, then pours herself a tall glass. Rina watches her with barely concealed irritation.

I don’t know what the hell is going on, but seeing Rina flustered like this feels satisfying, like rubbing salt into an old wound.

For once, it isn’t mine.

Then she sees Colt and her face lights up. She smiles like he’s the only person in the room, me and Winnie long forgotten.

“Hey there, kiddo. You guys ready?”

“Do you guys need lunch money?” I ask, sounding like a dick.

Rina’s expression tightens. “I’ve got it covered, thanks.”

Colt, because he’s astute for a kid of that age, glances between us with a slight frown.

I force a smile.

“Okay, you can handle it, Ri,” I say. “Remember, Colt, check in.”

“Dad, Iknow. Gah.” He lowers his voice as he glances at Evans and mutters, “Sorry he’s so uncool sometimes.”

Uncool?

For fuck’s sake, I never thought I’d be branded Satan in teenager-speak.

I fold my arms and catch Winnie’s expression, which she’s trying to hide behind her juice glass. But she’s grinning all the same.

“Let’s go!” Rina drapes an arm over Colt’s shoulders, though it doesn’t look as comfortable for her as it did a few years ago, back when he was shorter. “I’ll bring him back at a decent hour.”

“Sure. Thanks, Rina.”

The awkwardness feels palpable, but the three of them head out and the front door closes, a little harder than necessary.

I turn to Winnie, who’s no longer smiling.

“What the hell was that, Sugarbee? My girlfriend?” My confusion makes my voice sharper than intended.

Any other reaction would be impossible.

“I’m sorry,” she says, putting her glass down. She’s shy again now that she’s not playing whatever role she had mapped out in her head. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. If I upset you, I’m—”

I cut her off right there, pressing her against the counter with a kiss.

Her hot breath catches, the rest of her words swallowed in my mouth, and she kisses me back, digging her hands into my hair.

With me, she’s not soft. Not delicate.

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