Page 30

Of the dozens of calls that blow up his phone, he only answers one.

“I’m not bringing her home,” is all he says to the woman on the other end of the line, “until you’re ready to apologize.”

Quiet applause and timid smiles welcome me onto the front deck of the A-frame.

“There she is.” Yasmin gets to her feet, a beer dangling from her fingertips as she takes a tentative step towards me. “You okay?”

I nod, unnerved by her genuine concern. And embarrassed too because as I hover on the porch steps, soggy from an impromptu swim, I can’t not think about how they were all there. They all watched their boss, my boss, scream at me, and there’s a special kind of mortification that comes from that.

Although, it kind of feels like this morning has been forgotten already—it kind of feels like the trio lounging around the unlit fire pit are more intrigued by my current state.

My damp hair and water-stained clothes and bare feet, boots in hand because trying to wriggle wet feet into dirty socks is its own special brand of torture.

“Where’ve you been?” Yasmin asks the equally mussed man at my back more than she does me, lashes fluttering as she blinks haphazardly in a way that makes me wonder if the pair have some kind of secret code she’s trying to communicate in.

When Finn rattles off the name of the restaurant, the other guys snicker. “See Joy?”

The sound of kissing teeth makes the corner of my mouth quirk. As does Theo’s as his pale green eyes flick to me. “Bet she loved you.”

A warning tug on the back of my shirt does nothing to deter me from drawling, “Oh, I’m surprised I made it out alive.”

Adam hides a laugh disguised as a cough behind his knuckles.

“Leave him alone,” Yasmin chastises her friends, but she’s doing a pretty shit job at stifling her own amusement. “You want a beer?”

Smacking down the instinctive urge to snatch the bottle she offers right out of her hand, I force myself to decline. “Think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

A hand lands on my shoulder. “I’ll walk you up.”

It doesn’t escape me that the others watch us walk inside with a certain kind of look on their faces. Suspicion and confusion and something sly that involves the exchanging of wide-eyed stares and pumping eyebrows and low murmurs.

Sigh . What are we, teenagers? “I think your friends think I’m corrupting you.”

Hand hovering so close to the small of my back I can feel the warmth of it, Finn guides me up the first set of stairs. “I’ll make sure to tell them how not interested you are.”

“Exactly.” Is it just me or was there a little bite to that? “Your virtue is safe with me.”

A low, provocative snicker makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Baby, my virtue is dead and gone.”

I almost trip over the next step. Jesus . That had no right sounding so… hot .

Miraculously, I make it upstairs unharmed. Finn follows me to the end of the hall, towards the ladder that leads to the attic, but he stops short of the door I guess must lead to his bedroom.

Hand on the doorknob, he hesitates.

Fingers curled around a sturdy, wooden rung, I hesitate too.

He stares at me. I stare at him. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Something wants to, but I’m not sure I should let it.

I’m scared what it might be. Today has already left me so…

fragile. Like a raw, gaping wound. A bullet hole with a BandAid hastily slapped over it.

I’ve exposed more of myself than makes me comfortable, so I think keeping my mouth shut is the safe thing to do, lest anything else revealing leave it.

If my silence disappoints Finn, he hides it well. The corner of his mouth lifts as his chin dips, a muttered, “See you tomorrow, Lottie,” preceding the quiet creak of him opening his bedroom door.

When he closes it behind him, I stare at the slab of wood for longer than I care to admit before clambering upstairs. And as I push through the trapdoor, I wonder why no one warned me my room was already occupied.

Lux sits on the edge of my bed. Staring out the window, hands clasped in her lap, face… I don’t know. I can’t tell. I can’t read that expression. Or maybe I just don’t want to.

“Hey,” she says without looking at me, her knuckles turning white as her interlocked fingers clench.

My boots drop to the ground with a thud. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

In the physical sense of the word? “I’ll live.”

Her shoulders drop, a pent-up breath leaving her that catches when she turns and finds me dripping in the doorway. “Why’re you wet?”

“I went for a swim.”

A muscle in her jaw ticks. “You went for a swim.”

“With Finn,” I add because something in me says that’ll make it better, that I could be doing quite literally anything, anywhere, and it would be okay as long as my sister’s favorite employee was by my side.

Crossing the room to stand in front of my dresser, I start rifling through the drawers in search of a change of clothes.

“If you’re gonna yell at me some more, can I at least shower first? ”

Letting loose another rib-rattling exhale, Lux tilts her head towards the ceiling, shaking it once. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, worried out of my mind, and you were swimming.”

“I had lunch too.”

Something that’s a laugh, a groan, and a sigh in equal measures bursts out of her. “One of you could’ve picked up the phone and let me know where you were.”

Honestly, I assumed Finn did. I had no idea he was screening her calls too. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“Of course—” Lux cuts herself off with a hiss. “Fucking hell, Lottie.”

“What?” I frown at her reflection in the mirror hanging above my dresser, but as I twist to face her, I catch sight of the mottled purple skin that seems to be getting darker and uglier by the minute. “Oh. It’s just a bruise.”

Lux gets to her feet, sidling closer for a better view. “That looks really bad.”

“Thanks,” I drawl sarcastically.

A tired sigh brushes the back of my head before a chin lands on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

I say nothing as I rummage mindlessly through my drawers, passing over the pajamas I’m looking for again and again, but I don’t want to find them yet. I need something to do. Some kind of excuse not to look at her.

“I was angry and scared and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

I’m a hypocrite for not thinking that apology is good enough, just like Lux is a hypocrite for uttering it.

How many times have I blamed my own outbursts on anger?

How many times have I apologized just like that?

How many times have we both done that over the years, a vicious circle, a clash of two people who are too similar for their own good?

Reflected in the mirror, I see the exact same thought flash through her mind. I feel her sigh as much as I hear it, her head tilting to one side so our temples touch. “I don't like it being this way between us.”

I match her frown. “You think I do?”

“Honestly? Yeah, sometimes.”

My gaze drops again, fingers curling around the soft material of a pair of pajama shorts. “Well, I don’t.”

“Okay.” Slowly, tentatively, Lux wraps her arms loosely around my middle. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Just as slow, just as tentative, I lean against the woman who’s always felt like a lot more than just a sister. “I’m sorry too.”

“I know you are.” She butts her head gently against mine. “I made you a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t—”

Tickling fingers jab me in the ribs. “Don’t test me, Charlotte. I’ll drag you there by your hair if I have to.”

I almost don’t tell her, just to see how much weight that threat holds. Just for the tangible proof that she cares. “I already got checked out. Finn took me.”

“Oh.” Her surprise is deafening—as is the question she doesn’t ask, so much louder than the one she does. “And everything’s good?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good.” Lux briefly squeezes me tighter before grimacing. “Go shower. I’m not sleeping next to a wet dog all night.”

“You’re staying here?”

She backs up until her calves hit my bed and she drops down onto it. “Yup.”

I turn around, the dresser digging into me as I slump against it, frowning at the pajamas I finally plucked from the drawer. “I’m not gonna slip.”

I’m not gonna drink , I mean, but we both know that. Just like we both know I’m not quite telling the truth. We both hear the silent but I want to that I’m not quite brave enough, honest enough, to voice.

“And I’m not gonna sleep if I’m worrying about you leaving in the middle of the night again.”

“I wasn’t gonna do that either.”

“Good to know.” Crossing her legs beneath her, Lux drums her fingertips against her kneecaps. “I still wanna stay.”

Why? I want to ask.

I don’t want you to , I start to lie.

“Okay,” is all that comes out instead.

When I slope back into my bedroom a half hour later, Lux has already tucked herself beneath the covers.

Despite the fact the sun has barely set, I slip into bed too, facing her as I curl up on my side with my hands clasped between the pillow and my cheek, staring at the faded print of an old Fleetwood Mac t-shirt.

For a while, neither of us say anything.

Neither of us make much of an effort to sleep either; I can feel Lux’s gaze burning into my face.

When she sighs, I tense instinctively, preparing myself for a scolding, for disappointment, for lots of things, but not, “You used to sneak into my bed when you were little.”

“Really?” I murmur even though I remember.

It’s harder to remember a night I slept alone than it is to recall sharing a bed with one sibling or another.

Sometimes, and mostly towards the beginning of our life in Serenity, the five of us would squish together, each of us seeking comfort from the only people who ever gave us any.

Lux hums. “You did it a lot after—”

Her abrupt cut off makes me frown. “After what?”