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“Okay?” I ask, my brow furrowing. “You’re not going to fight me on it?”

She lifts her head. “No, why would I? You’re going to be there for your sister. It’s who you are.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, the tension releasing from my shoulders. “Made for me. I’ll join you in bed as soon as I get back. Leave the door locked. I’ll take the key with me.”

We always sleep in her guest room, and I think I know why she doesn’t want to spend the night in my bed. What she doesn’t know is that I ordered a new bed and that she’s going to be the only woman to ever be in it. I wouldn’t want to fuck her somewhere she’s fucked other men, either. And I know it makes me a hypocrite, but I hate the thought of other men having her, so I know how she feels.

Except I doubt her body count is anywhere near mine.

“Okay,” she agrees, sitting up and wrapping her arms around me. “If you’re going now, I’ll go read in bed.”

I nod and turn my head toward her lips, kissing her. “All mine. Fucking finally.”

She smiles widely and kisses me back.

I know if I don’t leave immediately, I won’t go at all. Standing with Lu in my arms, one hand under her knees and the other under her arms, I carry her upstairs and to what I’ve been calling our room, ignoring the catcalls from the men along the way.

After she’s all tucked in with her Kindle and the group chat going off on her phone, I head over to check on my sister.

When I park my bike at the front of my house, I take in the two-story, cream-colored brick building. It has a black roof, four bedrooms, and two bathrooms. It’s the house I want to raise my kids in one day, and I hope Luella likes it. She always said she wanted a house with a big garden, so I made sure it had that. The lights are all on, and when I step inside, I find Aspen sitting on the couch, phone in her hand. She’s extremely thin, and her once bright brown eyes are now dull. Her brown hair is messy and not brushed, and she’s wearing a loose T-shirt of mine with leggings. She looks a mess.

It always saddens me to think of what she could have been, but then I feel guilty because that’s not entirely fair. She didn’t choose this life. She’s just stuck in it, and I shouldn’t judge her.

“Did you bring food?” she asks, sitting up and turning to face me.

“No, but I’ll order some pizza.”

“Okay,” she replies, studying me a little too closely. The last time I saw her, I spoke to her about Luella. She was high as a kite when she admitted that she had lied back then, and Luella had nothing to do with her drug use. She said her goodie-little-two-shoes best friend would have never partied with her and her new friends.

At the time, it was all too much, and one of the reasons that when I moved away, I left Luella and my old life behind.

A small part of me believed her. Blamed Luella in a way, I suppose. Looking back, I know it’s all bullshit. My baby has never done hard drugs in her life. She’ll drink socially, and that’s about it.

What I wasn’t expecting, though, was the hate Aspen seems to have for her. I don’t know why, but I know it’s going to be an issue.

“How’s things with your new girlfriend?” she asks, rolling her eyes. “Is she the reason you haven’t been here all day? I’ve been bored, Hayden. And you know what happens when I get bored.”

“I can’t stay here all day, Aspen. I have the club, my music career?—”

“And Luella. She’s more important to you now.”

“You’re both important to me.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“She was always the perfect one. Even Mom loved her more than me,” she snaps, standing up and starting to pace. She has track marks on her arm. I don’t know how to help her anymore, and I don’t like feeling so fucking helpless.

Nights like this is when I’d go back to the clubhouse and lose myself in pussy.

Tapping the spot next to me, I say, “Come on. I’ll order the food, and we can watch a movie.”

She watches me for a few moments before nodding. “Okay.” She looks down at her hands. “I’m sorry I cause you so much drama, Haze. I know I have a problem, but I’m glad that addiction got me and not you. I’d take this every day instead of giving it to you.”

“Aspen,” I whisper.

She forces a smile. “I can be happy that it’s not you.”

“It doesn’t have to be you, either. And maybe we can talk about that rehab program.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d like to send me away,” she coos, sitting down with her knees to her chest. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.”