Page 36 of Devious Love
I watch them hurry out of the room, knowing they’re going to be talking about me and what I said. Fuck, what the hell is wrongwith me? Once I hear a door close upstairs, I pick up my glass and head out too, Matt close on my heels.
“What the hell, man? Why did you say she looks good?”
“Because she does,” I say, keeping my tone even. “And because the last time I saw her, she was fourteen.”
He bristles. “She’s my little sister.”
There’s nothing little about her, but I keep that thought to myself. He’s already huffing like a fucking rhino behind my back.
“She’s your stepsister,” he insists.
Teeth gritted, I turn to face him. “What do you want?”
“Keep your compliments to yourself.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I want her to be comfortable here. She’s important to me, and I don’t want her to leave again.”
“I know how much she means to you, so trust me, I don’t want her to leave either. She’s like a little sister to me too. I was surprised by how much she’s changed, that’s all. I meant it as a compliment.”
He deflates right in front of me. “Okay. Maybe I’m being overprotective.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “But with her living in Phoenix, I haven’t had the chance to do the big-brother thing much. Now that she’s back, I want to show her I care.”
“You’re fine.” I spin on my heel and head to the foyer for my backpack. “Just try not to overdo it.” He’s still standing in the same place when I head for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” he asks with a frown.
“To my room. I’m going to take a couple of Advil and sleep. Why?”
“I thought maybe we could do something fun for Mia.”
The second I hit the top of the stairs, Mia’s laughter filters through the air. Goddamnit. She hasn’t been home in almost five years, but her laughter sounds so familiar, it’s like she never left.
I push my bedroom door open. “I’m headed to bed. Have fun. And,” I say, turning back to him, “no offense, but she’s eighteen. Maybe ask before you start making plans for her.”
He yawns. “Definitely gotta do that.”
“Good luck.”
With a single nod, I step into my room, my mind fixed solely on sleep.
Remi:
Are you back?
Remi:
I miss you
Remi:
How about a movie?
Me:
I’m home. Busy tonight
I lockmy screen and toss my phone on my bed. Fuck, this girl is exhausting. We aren’t dating. She knows that. Yet she’s acting like we’re in some long-term, committed relationship when in reality, we broke up—for good—four months ago.
Tossing my towel to the floor, I pad to my closet. I put on black sweatpants and a white tee, needing comfort more than anything else. It’s almost nine p.m., and after napping for so long, I have a feeling I’ll be up half the night.
I step back into the bathroom to hang up my towel and brush my teeth. As I step out into the hallway, the sound of voices downstairs catches my attention. Matt, for sure. Chiara, maybe? Then, there’s another melodic laugh, the same laugh I heardbefore I passed out, and I’m once again struck by how familiar it sounds.
