Page 7

There was a time when I wanted to be dead. Tightness works its way from my chest to my throat. I shrug and pat my chest with my hands, winking at her. “Clearly I’m alive.”
“Mom is going to freak when she sees you’re home.”
Home? Why does that word sound so unfamiliar?
Frankie gives me a cynical look—one she’s perfected over the years. “Seriously, Grayson. Oh God. You fucking stink. How long have you been wearing that shirt?” Her nose scrunches, waving her hand in front of her face. “You need a shower.”
She’s right on that. I haven’t stopped since I left New Mexico and I do stink.
“Listen. You can’t just look good tonight, Grayson. You need to be mind-numbingly gorgeous. You have to… well—” Her eyes narrow at me. “You’ll see. Clearly, you need my help on this one. Trust me.” Frankie shrugs carelessly and dances out of the room, adding a pirouette before she makes it out the door.
Trust is never a word you want to hear coming from Frankie Gomez. Ever. You’ll fucking regret it before you even hear the last inflection of the letter “t” flowing out of her mouth.
The last time I trusted Frankie, I ended up modeling a clothing line she designed in front of a bunch of Catholic school girls while they checked out my junk, and Evie and Kelly laughed hysterically in the back of the room. I can’t tell you how thankful I am that she didn’t go to design school like she had originally planned and became a nurse instead.
Sighing in defeat, I know there’s no stopping her when she gets like this. It’s probably no surprise that Frankie used to dress me up in princess dresses and crowns. At the time, I didn’t care what my sisters did to me. I enjoyed the attention as a kid. And I can’t say I’m disappointed by it today either. It’s good to see her smiling face again.
“It’s good to be home,” I mutter to myself as I head to theshower. Once I’m in there, I have to admit, it’s refreshing to take a shower after the long drive. Steam rolls through the room. The hot water burns my skin a little, as sensitive as it still is on my back. I hate to even see what my back actually looks like, but I know it’s not good. I refuse to face the mirror.
Once I’m done with the shower, I run one of my dad’s razors over my face but leave some scrub, Evie always liked that on me.
Nice one, asshole. You know nothing about her and now you’re looking to impress her. Idiot.
One can have hope, right?
Back in my room, my thoughts drift to her again when I make the mistake of glancing toward my window.
You knew this wasn’t going to be easy.
Frankie bounces back into the room. Thankfully, I have my pants on as she barges in like she lives here. Well, she does I suppose. Privacy isn’t something you have with two older sisters.
Frankie eyes me, her body rigid with shock when she notices my chest and the scars scattered over it. “Grayson!” she gasps. “What happened?”
I don’t look at her and twist away as I shoulder into the shirt, buttoning it as fast as I can. “Nothing.”
“That is not nothing.” Her hands are on my chest now, trying to force me back around. “Jesus Christ. How did that even happen? It looks like you were stabbed with knifes.”
These scars, they certainly didn’t come from knifes. Maybe that would have been easier. She takes hold of my arm. “Grayson, seriously, what the fuck happened?” she demands, stomping her foot on the hardwood floor with her heel.
The thud bounces off the walls and through my head. I jump unintentionally. Pressure builds in my head, my stomach. My fists clench and I release a quick breath, then drag in another. Not now, man. Over a fucking stomp? Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a dramatic sigh. “Goddamn it, Frankie,” I seethe, scowling at her. “Drop it.”
There’s a few seconds when I think she contemplatesignoring my request. With her hands planted on her hips, she backs down and steps away. “Don’t touch your hair. I already know what I’m going to do with it.”
“What the fuck for?” I follow her toward her bedroom. “It’s my first night back. I don’t want to go anywhere.”
And I’m fucking certain I don’t want to go anywhere Frankie wants me to go. Knowing her, it’d be some nightclub by the way she’s dressed. Skintight jeans and an all too revealing top, it’s definitely not what you’d wear to the local Cracker Barrel.
Fuck, what if Evie is a stripper or something?
Now there’s a sight I want to see.
Not at all what I need to be thinking.
To understand how long Evie has plagued my dreams, you have to understand my obsession with her first. If you saw Evie Brooks you’d understand. She has this beautiful wavy blonde hair. Freckles cover her face and she has the brightest green eyes I’ve ever fucking seen.
You know, pretty doesn’t do her justice. Gorgeous doesn’t either.
“Ethan’s band is playing at The Point tonight so everyone is meeting over there. Josh and Kelly will be there. Mom and Dad are stopping by later when they get back from Birmingham.” She looks at her phone in her hand. “Which should be any time.”