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He scrambled off the bed and tried to cover his dick while he hunted for his pants.

I put a hand to my forehead, in part because I didn’t want to see this guy’s dick and in part because I was really out of my element here. I’d just had sex myself for the first time. I wasnotequipped to deal with the sexual precociousness of my fifteen-year-old sister.

When I looked up, the guy had his pants on and was struggling to pull on his shirt. “She said she was eighteen, I swear!”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Tell it to Mac. Or better yet the police.”

I didn’t know if I would tell Mac or the police — I needed to talk to Ruth first — but it was enough to make him scramble toward the door anyway.

“Go out the way you came!” Ruth said to him. “Back stairs, back door.”

Like a little fucking professional. Jesus. How many times had she done this?

I moved out of his way and he rushed past me and into the hall.

I shut Ruth’s door and moved into the room while Ruth leaned off the bed to find her shirt — my shirt.

What a surprise.

“Just because I don’t live here doesn’t mean you can take my clothes without asking,” I said.

She glared daggers at me. “That’swhat you want to talk about? Your clothes?”

It wasn’t, but it was a lot easier than talking about Ruth having sex with grown men.

I sat on the edge of her bed while she pulled on my shirt. “I don’t want to talk about any of this, but I guess I have to, because either Dad hasn’t talked to you about it or he has and he did a shitty job.”

She threw herself back against her upholstered headboard, looking every bit a teenager. “He hasn’t, thank god. The last person I want to talk to about sex is Dad.”

She was just a kid, and I remembered how grown-up I’d felt at fifteen, how sure of everything, how eager to be an adult.

Jesus. Had I been this young and clueless?

Probably.

And our dad hadn’t even had the sex talk with her. Was it something he planned to do later? Did he think he had more time? Or was it something he hadn’t even thought about because he would have seen it as something my mom should have done if she’d still been alive?

“I’m sorry, Ruthie.” I used her old nickname, hoping it would warm things up between us, because the only thing worse than having the sex talk with your little sister was having the sex talk with your hostile little sister. “I should have talked to you about this sooner.”

“I don’t need the sex talk,” she said, sounding like a two-year-old.

“Apparently you do, because having sex with a man that age when you’re fifteen is a bad idea for a lot of reasons.”

I sighed and pulled out my phone. I needed to send a text to Diana to tell her I was running late because of a family emergency. Not a good look my second week at work, but I wasn’t going to bail on Ruth when she needed me. And she did need me, whether she realized it or not.

Plus I figured the fact that Piers Cantwell’s son had almost raped me gave me a pass on the rules for a day at least, and while I wasn’t looking to exploit the situation, this was a worthy reason.

“Not like you’re an expert,” Ruth said, pouting.

I wasn’t about to defend my honor by telling Ruth I’d fucked Wolf LaForte, but that didn’t mean I was letting her off the hook.

“On sex? Maybe not,” I said. “But I’m actually pretty good at taking care of myself, and even though I’m always here for you, I want you to be too. So let’s talk.”

Chapter 62

Daisy

Ilooked down at Blake’s phone and fought against a familiar swell of frustration. It had been two weeks since I’d taken it from the house and I still hadn’t been able to crack it. I’d tried the original list of potential passwords and added more than ten new possibilities, but none of them worked.