Page 80 of Limbo

An empty hallway greets me when I step out of the locker room.

“Thanks for waiting, everybody,” I say, coming up behind Jordan and Cate on the stairs.

Jordan looks me up and down. Call it a lingering effect from what just happened in the steam room, but the casual glance alone sends a shiver shooting down my spine.

I dangle my keys at my zombie brother whose phone uses up every last bit of his awareness. “Connor, go start the car.”

He grabs blindly for them, and I send Cate out the door with him. Jordan and I need to take care of some business. My fingers lock with his, leading him to the woman knowingly waving a twenty around. The pink in my cheeks offers her all the proof she needs to settle up.

“Pay the man,” I say.

As Jordan pockets my winnings, she peruses him with the subtlety of Jess. “I never got a good look,” she whines. “What happened to you showing him off for the cameras before he changed?”

With that, I get him out of reach before she dives over the counter. “Bye, Shayna.”

“Pete’s birthday’s coming up,” she calls after us. “You should come!”

I wave at her, not giving an answer.

A few steps out the door, Jordan pulls me to him. “What’s the money for?”

“Consider it the first installment for Cate’s lessons.”

“First of all, swim lessons are on me.” He kisses me without allowing time for my rebuttal. “I have a follow-up question then. What was she paying you for?”

I bite my lips together, heat flooding my cheeks. “We might have won a long-standing bet by having sex in the steam room.” Before he responds, I hurry down the sidewalk and join my siblings in the car.

His lips curl up as he climbs in, and then he turns to Cate and Connor in the back. “Who wants to go spend twenty dollars?”

Cate unleashes a death squeal, and even Connor looks up at the chance to spend someone else’s money. I twist around in my seat and narrow my eyes at Jordan for being stubborn, but he pretends not to notice.

“Can we have blue slushies, Cal?” Cate asks.

I sense the tension enter Connor’s muscles before the lines appear between his eyebrows. The request requires a trip to Sutterville and chances a run-in with Graham. The last thing we want on the weekends we spend with him, let alone our time away. I offer him a hint of a smile and let him decide whether we go. He gives a slight nod, but I wait until the lines fade before confirming with Cate.

When we leave the parking lot in a different direction, I catch sight of a confused Jordan. “Sutterville’s convenience store has a blue slushie machine,” I tell him.

“Sutterville, as in…” He glances at Cate, not saying anything more, which I appreciate.

I nod. “We usually try to avoid it sinceanyonecould be there.”

He shifts, seeming to understand. We ride the rest of the way in silence, the air in the car heavy around Connor.

Over the past few months, his tolerance for our father has steadily declined. Then it crashed and burned the night Graham almost hit me.

Basketball provides an outlet, but he’s been more on edge as of late. A problem we’ll need a solution for sooner rather than later.

His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror as I pull off the highway. I wrinkle my nose at him, and he gives a half-smile. Not quite genuine but better than nothing. His mood improves further when only Rhonda’s Cadillac appears in the parking lot. No sign of Graham anywhere.

Unwilling to wait, Cate speeds in as soon as we come to a stop. Connor rushes after her to prevent a repeat of the slushie fiasco in which we spent twenty minutes cleaning the damn floor to avoid Rhonda’s sciatica acting up.

Jordan examines the lack of civilization surrounding him. His hands absentmindedly run through his hair, and God, he’s gorgeous. I trail my fingers down his arm, needing to touch him. He opens the door and returns the favor by sliding his hand over my ass when I walk by. Since the bell already announced us, Rhonda watches the whole gratuitous display from behind the counter.

I smile and wave. “Hi, Rhonda.”

She smirks and returns to reading a magazine.

Connor’s holding Cate up to the slushie machine straight in from the door. I pinch his side before hanging a left to the row of cooler doors in search of water or soda. I stare at the selection, still undecided when the bell dings again. I check down the aisle where Jordan supervises the sacred filling of what appears to be a second cup of blue gunk. Unless I want her in my bed all night again, I need to stop her from starting a third.

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