Page 16 of How You See Me
I’ll just have to stay guarded, keep my distance, and make sure she does the same.
Chapter 4
Josie
I’m wrist-deep in sudsy, pink water, humming to myself while rinsing the last of my brushes. I had a great painting session—one of those cozy, life-repairing ones where time slips through my fingers and reconnects my sanity with soul once again.
Until a knock sounds on the door.
I jerk upright and check the clock on the microwave. It’s well past ten.
Okay.Rude.
And spooky.
“That better be Jordan.”
Burglars don’t knock first, do they? Seems counterproductive.
Drying my hands on a towel, I grab the nearest weapon available—my trusty little soup pot—and tiptoe toward thedoor, low-budget ninja style. I lean my ear against the wood and activate my most gruff accent.
“Who’s there?”
“Your brother. Open up, or I’ll use my key.”
“Go ahead.”
While he fiddles with the lock, I hide the pot behind a couch pillow, popping up as Jordan walks in.
He pauses in the threshold and gives me a suspicious look.
“What are you doing here so late?” I ask, eyebrow raised like I’m not totally relieved it’s him.
“I have news.”
“Ooh, goodie. Is ityou-won-the-lotterykind of news oryou-bought-the-wrong-chocolate news?”
“Is there such a thing aswrongchocolate?”
“Good point.”
He leads me to the couch and plops down, his expression smug. “I havesave-the-daynews, obviously. I’m your brother. That’s kind of my thing.”
“Perfect. Because I need a day saved. Do you know someone willing to drive me to Vegas? Wait—you’re not paying someone, are you?”
His eye roll is immediate. “Please. I know better.”
When we lived together, I wouldn’t let him waste a dime of his lifelong savings on me, groceries, or bills. It was a regular argument, and I’m prepared for another if needed. He’s got enough on his plate with tuition and a fixer-upper of a house he and Nora want to move into after theirwedding.
“No payments necessary. As it turns out, someone is already making the trip and agreed to let you tag along. They want to leave on Wednesday.”
“Amazing timing. Who is it?”
He pats the cushion beside him. That’s never a good sign.
“Uh oh,” I scoot closer. “Is there a caveat to this deal I’m not going to like? Do I have to sell my soul for the favor? Or worse, did you sell yours?”
He laughs. “Didn’t have to. Friends don’t usually steal your soul for a favor.”
