Page 2

Chapter 2

Tobias

" F uck me, she's got a lot of shit."

I drop my ass down onto Harry's couch, my body sinking back into the soft leather. My shoulders ache from hauling boxes, and I'm pretty sure I've pulled something that'll hurt like hell tomorrow.

Not that I'll ever tell Amelia that.

"What's the problem? Youlovemoving day," he laughs as he strolls in from the kitchen with two beers in his hand, tossing one my way before taking a seat across from me.

"No, I don't, and everyone knows that, but I'm asked left, right, and fucking center to help with it."

"Is she okay though? With the move?"

I shrug, leaning back on the couch. "I think so. She hasn't said otherwise. Besides, it's not like we haven't lived together before."

"True, but it's different now. It's not your parents’ place."

I loved living with Amelia under the Sinclair roof, even if it sometimes felt more like a cage than a home. Back then, it was just us. Just her and me. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was ours.

"Have you two set any ground rules yet?"

"Like what?"

"Like, how are you going to take women back there?" He chuckles, and I take another long sip of my beer.

"Why wouldn't I?"

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and when I look up, I see Jen—the brunette with an attitude I love just as much as I hate—making her way over to the couch. She saunters in and sits beside Harry, stretching her legs across his lap.

"Comfortable?" he asks, and she nods as she wiggles her red-painted toes.

"Why wouldn't you what?" Jen cuts in, sliding herself into our conversation.

"Take girls back to his and Amelia's apartment."

I ignore Harry and lean forward, setting the empty beer bottle on the table in front of me.

"Where's Blondie?"

"She's at Zane's."

"Tessa's always at Zane's," Harry adds.

"Damn, and here I was thinking she'd be over him by now."

They know I'm playing. They also know that, despite my previous infatuation with Tessa, the bond we share now is beyond anything I could've imagined. Sure, she's still hot as fuck, but she's my ride-or-die.

Zane, though, was a real surprise. Most guys would've gone full alpha, puffed out their chest, and tried to stake their claim. Not him. He walked into the situation like a guy who understood exactly how close he'd come to losing everything and was determined not to make the same mistake twice.

I'd comforted Tessa, held her together when she was falling apart, and when I called him out for being an asshole, he never got defensive, not once. Instead, he thanked me for being there for her when he wasn't and for picking up the pieces he'd shattered. And just like that, something shifted between us.

"What about you, Tobias?"

"What about me, Jennifer?"

"When are you settling down?"

"That'll be never."

She rolls her eyes and flings her arms toward me. "You realize you won't always look like this, right?"

"What? This hot?" My gaze locks with hers, and her jaw tightens, but I swear I catch the flicker of a smile before she masks it with annoyance.

"Shut up." She rolls her eyes, and that flicker turns into a full-blown grin. "But yes."

Harry tosses his head back and laughs loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls.

"Careful, Harry, your girl's hitting on me."

"Nah, she knows she won't ever get better than what I give her. Don't you, baby girl?" Jen blushes—actually blushes—and I shake my head.

"Jesus, I think I'd rather be unpacking with Mills than watching you two sappy fuckers."

"One day, you're going to fall in love, Tobias, and you'll be just as gone for someone as your boy here is." She smiles confidently and with good reason—Harry is completely in love with her—no doubt about it.

"Well, when that day comes, I'll allow you to say I told you so. Sound good, Jennifer?"

"It does," she says, smiling triumphantly.

"Right, I'm gonna grab some food and take it home," I say as I push myself up off the couch with a lazy stretch. "Amelia won't stop to eat if I don't."

"That's unusually thoughtful of you."

I flip Jen off before snatching my keys off the table.

"See you later," I shout over my shoulder as I head toward the front door. Behind me, I hear a couple of muffled goodbyes before I step outside.

I walk around Harry's car and settle into the driver's seat of my baby, my red Audi, a bribe from my father to get me to move in with Amelia.

But, honestly, I would've done it anyway.

Amelia and I have always been close, and while it wasn't my intention to house-share with her, it works for me. She's been my constant—the only person who's ever made me feel less alone, and I guess, in a way, she grounds me.

I never really understood what it felt like to have any kind of family until Amelia and her mom moved in with us. Before that, "family" was just an empty word, and for a guy like me who has some deep-rooted issues with being alone, Amelia became my family and my safe place in a home that had done nothing but bring me pain.

But when you've spent your entire childhood being given the silent treatment, you'll cling to any semblance of connection like it's a lifeline.

Which is exactly what I did with Amelia.

My father has always had a clear plan for my future, and if he had his way, I would've moved back to Pennsylvania the second I graduated college. He would’ve had me working for the family business, watching my soul get sucked out the same way his was all those years ago.

By the time he was my age, he'd already sacrificed anything he wanted for himself to work for his father's payment processing firm.

Yeah, it's as dull as it fucking sounds.

I guess he always assumed I'd follow in his footsteps.

Suit. Tie. Numbers. Figures. Fucking no. Never going to happen.

If my father had actually taken the time to get to know me over the years, then maybe I would be a different man now. Maybe I would've become a man who resembled him—successful, respected, and entirely ignorant.

Perhaps if he'd been a father instead of treating me like another business deal, leaving me in the hands of multiple nannies who raised me in his absence, then maybe I would've grown up respecting his views, and his wishes would've had some kind of sway over me.

However, he doesn't know me, not really. He never wanted to try and know me, keeping his distance emotionally, and because of that, he gets my middle finger and zero fucks given to whatever he expects of me.

I know he holds onto the hope that one day I'll move back home and magically transform into the son he always wanted—a presentable, clean-cut, high-powered CEO type of guy.

But that isn't who I am, and I've never sought his approval.

Not gonna start now either.

I'll do what makes me happy, and if he doesn't like it, that's not my problem.

I'm pretty sure he looks at me and sees another trust-fund brat just fucking around and wasting my life by living off my family's money. But the truth is, my grandfather's trust fund sits exactly where he placed it years ago—a financial safety net that I have no interest in using. I'm focused on building something for myself—no handouts, no shortcuts—just relentless drive, countless hours of learning, and the determination to be the best at what I do.

After grabbing a large pizza on my way home—Margherita because Amelia refuses to experiment with food and hates every topping known to man—I head back to our apartment, which my father has paid out of his ass for, but it keeps his wife happy.

When I first met Kayla, she didn't seem to care much about the material shit, but over time, my father's influence and the pull of wealth and privilege drew her in.

Now she's obsessed with it.

Maybe having shitty parents— okay, so Kayla's not exactly my father-level of fucked up —had something to do with keeping both Amelia and me from turning into entitled little shitbags. Or maybe it was because we were all each other had through the mess of our teenage years. I swear, having her in that big, lonely house saved me in ways I don't think she'll ever understand.

We've known each other since we were kids, but the connection we share has never been the kind that fits neatly into the typical sibling dynamic. We didn't grow up side by side from the beginning, arguing over who got the last slice of cake or whose turn it was to control the remote. What we built was something else entirely. It wasn't forced or dictated by blood or obligation. It was a choice to have each other's backs, no matter what.

If she ever needed me, I'd be there for her in the same way I would for any of my closest friends, but with her, it's more. It's instinct. She's the one person I'd show up for, no questions asked. Always.

"Mills?" I call out as I reach her bedroom.

No answer.

The sound of running water fills my ears as I slowly open the door and peer into the room. Steam rises from the en suite bathroom, and when I lightly tap my knuckles on the door, I hear her turn off the shower.

"That you, Tobias? Better be, or I'm going to kick whoever's ass it is who's in my room."

"It's me, crazy," I call out, laughing because I'm fully aware that she means every word she says.

"What's up?"

"I've got pizza."

"Cheese?"

"Obviously."

"Okay, give me five minutes."

Five minutes, my ass.

Almost fifteen minutes later, she strolls down the hallway wearing a black tank and matching shorts, her hair damp and her skin slightly flushed from the shower.

Why do women always have their water so fucking hot?

"You're lucky there's any food left, given how long you took."

"You didn't have to wait for me," she says as I head into the kitchen, with her following close behind.

"The last time I ate pizza without you, I almost got slapped for not letting you pick not only the biggest piece but also the one with the most cheese."

I lift the lid, and Amelia sidles up beside me, her tiny, five-foot-nothing frame slipping effortlessly into my space. She stands in front of the open box, her head barely reaching my chest as I tower over her, breathing in the sweet smell of coconut that drifts up from her hair.

I reach out and grab her head, pulling her close until my nose is buried in her hair. I inhale deeply, breathing in the scent and threading my fingers through the strands. She giggles as she half-heartedly pushes against my chest, but I refuse to budge.

"What the hell are you doing?" she says while staying still in my hold.

"Your shampoo smells good."

"So you're just sniffing me now?"

I've always been a touchy person. My hands seem to move with a mind of their own, reaching out without thinking, and sometimes, I forget that not everyone is comfortable with that. But Amelia is different. She's known me long enough to understand that my need for physical touch is just another language we share.

"Just making sure I really like it before I borrow it."

"Keep your ass out of my bathroom, or I'll scrub your toilet with your toothbrush."

I release her with a laugh and return my attention to the pizza box in front of us. "Seriously, the day you clean a bathroom is the day I give up women."

"I am more than capable of cleaning," she says, staring up at me with a glimmer of irritation in her dark-brown eyes.

"Also, do I get to look forward to that?" she asks, sweeping her hand around the room. "To multiple women being here?"

"Multiple women?" I echo, unable to hold back my laughter as I watch her grab a couple of slices of pizza. "It's been a while since I spent the night with multiple women, Firefly, but I'm not opposed to it either, so you might wanna invest in some earplugs."

She bumps her hip into me before sauntering off to claim her spot on the couch. By the time I drop down beside her, she already has a movie playing in the background.

"Speaking of hooking up, you wanna put some ground rules in? Harry mentioned today that we should probably have some."

"Not really. You do you," she says without tearing her eyes away from the TV screen, where Vin Diesel is tearing through another car chase. "Actually, no fucking anyone on the couch or anywhere that I may sit or use."

"So you're saying that I can only have sex in a bed?"

Her eyes flick to me, just for a second. "Do you really want to know you're sitting in a seat where some guy's bare ass was?"

Two thoughts hit me at once. Firstly, I never saw Mills as an on-top kinda girl, and now I can't stop picturing it. Secondly, I'm not about to eat breakfast where some guy's balls were a few hours earlier. Even I have my limits, and a side of nutsack with my eggs is definitely one of them.

"Yeah, okay, fair point."

With a mouthful of pizza, I turn my attention back to the TV, and we fall into a comfortable silence while rewatching The Fast and the Furious for the millionth time.

It’s just pizza grease, car explosions, and the promise that no one else’s naked ass will ever desecrate this couch. Our own little world, held together by its own beautifully fucked-up harmony.