Page 28 of You Were Always Mine
A week.
And I’m not invited.
The sting of his dismissal crawls under my skin, hot and sharp, but I force my shoulders back, my voice steady even as my stomach twists.
‘Good,’ I snap, crossing my arms tighter. ‘I don’t care. I’ve got a date, anyway.’
The lie tastes bitter, but I spit it like venom, watching his shoulders stiffen as the words land.
Slowly, he sets his mug down on the counter — the ceramic hitting a little too hard. He doesn’t turn right away, doesn’t give me the satisfaction of his eyes, but the air shifts: colder. Heavier.
My pulse kicks.
He finally looks over his shoulder at me, blue eyes sharp enough to cut. ‘A date.’
I lift my chin, meeting his glare even though my throat feels tight. ‘Yeah. With someone who actually wants me there.’
The corner of his mouth twitches, but it isn’t a smile. It’s something darker — something that makes my skin prickle. He drags a hand over his jaw, his voice low, dangerous.
‘Careful, little sister.’
I swallow hard, nails digging crescents into my palms, but I don’t look away. I can’t, because even as the shame burns me alive, a sick part of me wants him to snap.
He doesn’t ask who. Doesn’t ask where. Doesn’t even twitch. He just picks his mug back up, takes a slow drink, and stares out the kitchen window like I’m nothing more than background noise.
The chill of it slices deeper than any fight ever could.
My chest squeezes, heat clawing up my throat, but I force the words out anyway. ‘Kai… are we going to talk about the car?’
That gets him. He sets the mug down again carefully, shoulders rigid. When he finally turns, his eyes are ice.
‘Why?’ His voice is low, flat, lethal in its calm. ‘You wanted to pretend. You wanted to forget. You wanted normal, remember?’
The words slam into me one by one, and for a second, I can’t breathe.
My mouth opens, closes, shame and anger tangling on my tongue. ‘I just?—’
He cuts me off, stepping closer, his stare pinning me in place. ‘You made your choice, Scarlett. You don’t get to dig it back up now.’
Cold. Detached. Like nothing happened. Like I didn’t grind against him until my thighs shook. Like I didn’t whisper filth in his ear. Like I haven’t been burning ever since.
And it hurts more than I want to admit.
He turns as if he’s going to walk away, but I can’t stand it — the silence, the coldness, the way he pretends I don’t exist. My chest feels like it’s splitting, heat clawing up my throat until I can’t hold it back.
‘Look at me,’ I snap, my voice cracking, sharper than I meant. ‘Stop pretending nothing happened. Stop—stop acting like I’m invisible. Say something.’
Slowly, he does. Blue eyes lock onto mine — glacial, unreadable — and for a second, the weight of them almost buckles me.
Then he speaks, voice low, flat, merciless. ‘It was nothing, Scarlett. A mistake.’
My breath catches, my stomach dropping, but he doesn’t stop.
‘Brothers don’t do that to their sisters. I lost control for a second. That’s all it was. A moment of weakness.’ He tilts his head, his mouth curving in something that isn’t quite a smile. ‘You got what you wanted. Congratulations. But don’t get confused.’
The words slice sharper than any slap.
‘You’re my sister,’ he finishes, each syllable cold enough to freeze me in place. ‘That’s all.’
