Page 33 of Endgame

Okay!Climbing to my feet, I grabbed the stack of books and held them to my chest. “I better get these back to him.”Or back to his room before he realizes they’re gone…

“Before you go, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Gabe called after me.

Reluctantly, I paused in the doorway and turned back to him. “Oh yeah?”

“I wanted to organize a family meal in the next week or so, before your mother and I leave.”

Another family meal? “Why?”

Gabe smiled. “Because we’re family now, Mercedes. And your mother and I want to lay down the house rules while we’re gone on our trip.”

“Fine.” Ugh. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Well…” Gabe said, trailing off. “I was hoping you could talk to Rourke – try and convince him to attend.”

“Me?” I squeaked. Was he blind or something? “Gabe, your sonhatesme.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

I raised a brow. Who was he kidding?

“Fine,” Gabe sighed, admitting defeat. “I’ll level with you. My son’s behavior has left your mother feeling a little…unwelcome.”

Madeherfeel unwelcome? I rolled my eyes. My Mom was such a drama queen. “And you’re telling me this because?”

“Amelia has tried speaking to him about it, but it went straight over his head,” Gabe explained in a weary tone. “And Rourke hasn’t listened to a thing I’ve said since he was a boy.” He smiled at me with a hopeful expression. “So… I was thinking maybe if you had a word with him and explained how his behavior is making your mother feel uncomfortable, he might listen?”

“No,” I choked out. Was he for real? “No way. I’m not getting involved.” Especially whenIwas the one who spent most of the time on the receiving end of Rourke’s anger.

“Oh well. You can’t blame a guy for trying,” Gabe muttered sullenly.

I didn’t bother answering, choosing to take the staircase two steps at a time in my rush to get Rourke’s books back in his room before he found out I’d had them.

Rourke

SIX WAS SITTING on the edge of my bed when I got home from football practice. She was wearing a plain gray tee-shirt and jeans, and didn’t have a smidgen of makeup on her face. She didn’t need it. She was beautiful just as she was.

Anger coursed through me then; my brain finally catching up to the realization that she was inmyroom.

What the fuck was she doing in my room?

She didn’t even look up at me when I walked into my room; she was too engrossed in the book in her hands. For a moment, my heart stopped dead in my chest.

It quickly kick-started again when I recognized the old sketch book and I felt myself sag in relief.

For a moment there, I had thought Six was reading my mother’s book to me. If she had have been, I wasn’t sure how I would have reacted. I had a feeling the answer would benot well.

Dropping my gym bag by the door, I walked over to where she was sitting and folded my arms across my chest. I owed her for being a dick the other night. The shitty way I spoke to her when she tried to console me over my mom was the reason I wasn’t tossing her ass out.

Of course, the moment Six noticed me standing over her, she screamed and dropped the book on the floor. “Omigod,” she panted, breathless. “Rourke, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Hey.” Holding my hands up, I teased, “It aint my fault you were too busy snooping around in my shit to realize I was here.”

“I wasn’tsnooping,” she shot back, red-faced, spring up from the mattress. “I was…admiring.”

“Are you a lesbian?” I asked with a smirk when I noticed what page of my drawings had gotten Six’s attention.

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. Andno, I’m not a lesbian,” she added with a pout, glaring. “I was just…” Her voice trailed off and she look down at her feet before back up at my face. “Those drawings are good, Rourke.”

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