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Chapter Two

Kai

I light the joint, walking back toward my room, but not before stopping outside her door. Her door hasn’t moved in five years, but it still feels like she’s just behind it. The faint smell of her perfume, mixed with the old wood, clings to the air, a ghost of her presence. I should’ve left this place, but after the old man died, I didn’t feel the need. Truthfully, I expected her to return. I expected to hear her voice echo through these walls, or to find her in the kitchen, barefoot, teasing me like nothing ever happened. But, when weeks turn into months, and then into years, you kind of lose hope.

And yet, here I am. A dumbass standing outside her bedroom door, too afraid to open the fucking thing.

Closing my eyes, I lean into the door, the cool plywood biting into my skin. My fist hovers near the handle, like it has a hundred times before. I know it’s just a room now, but it doesn’t stop the ache in my chest.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I hover over her, my hands pinning her wrists to the bed.

Her big brown eyes focus on mine for a moment, then drift down to my lips. I shouldn’t feel this way—not about her. Not about the half-sister I just found out existed. But the alcohol, the weed, and the gnawing need to be inside her, have consumed me.

“I don’t know,” I rasp.

She swallows hard, her legs shifting as she opens them, pulling me closer. Fuck, she can definitely feel my boner pressing against her now.

Tokyo bites her lip. “It’s okay if you want to.”

I snap back to the present with a sharp inhale, guilt and arousal twisting in my gut. Letting out a shaky breath, I press my forehead harder against the door, the wood grounding me as my mind spirals. She’s not here, Kai. Let it go.

Behind me, Stacy’s voice cuts through the fog like a blade. “What are you doing?” Her arms wrap around my waist, her body pressing into mine.

I don’t move. My forehead stays resting against Tokyo’s door as Stacy slips her hand inside my sweats.

“You’re insatiable tonight,” she giggles, her voice light and teasing. “How many rounds has it been?”

She thinks she’s the reason for this. Thinks it’s her touch, her body, her effort keeping me this hard. She has no idea. She doesn’t see that every time she touches me, I’m chasing a ghost.

Sex is the only thing that keeps her quiet, the only reason I keep her around. If I’m not on the streets, shifting gears and racing, I’m home smoking weed and getting my dick sucked.

It’s not about her. It’s about me. It’s about forgetting, even if it’s just for a second—a minute—anything to forget her. Anything to forget Tokyo.

Letting out a sigh, I turn around, my eyes meeting Stacy’s. There’s longing in them—real longing—but there’s also ulterior motives. She wants something from me, and I know exactly what it is. Love. But all I can give her is sex.

When Stacy falls to her knees, her big blue eyes pleading like a good girl, I play my part. I smack her cheek lightly, and she opens up as I spit into her waiting mouth.

“Get to work,” I growl.

She doesn’t hesitate, her lips wrapping around me. I close my eyes, letting the feeling numb me. But even as I lose myself in her mouth, the image of Tokyo’s honey-brown eyes burns in my mind. I picture her there—on her knees, her lips where Stacy’s are now—and the thought tears me apart. It’s wrong. So fucking wrong. But it doesn’t stop me. It never does.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The knocking at the front door snaps me out of my haze.

“Who the fuck?” I drawl, pulling my cock out of Stacy’s mouth.

“Clean it,” I whisper, watching her swollen lips gather the spit and precum from my cock into her mouth.

Thud .

“Who the fuck is that?” she asks, her eyes darting to the door.

I shrug, just as confused as her. No one shows up without calling. I’m never usually home. But it’s raining, it’s cold, and I’m not in the mood for anything today. Not today. Not on the fifth anniversary of her leaving.

She brought light into my world for three years before disappearing, making it seem like I’d done something wrong. Like she didn’t want this as much as I did.

Thud.

“Hold the fuck up,” I yell, tucking my cock back into my pants. Slowly, I walk to the door, unlock it, and pull it open.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

“Tokyo,” I whisper, her name barely audible over the roar in my head.

And there she is, the rain plastering her platinum blonde hair to her face, streaks of pink running like watercolor. Her big, almond-shaped eyes are framed by mascara that streaks down her beautiful face. Even in the dim lighting, her light brown skin glows. Those perfectly shaped bleached brows and winged liner, sharp as a blade, accentuate her features. Wearing nothing but a tube top and overalls, holding a small Hello Kitty rolling carry-on bag. She’s gotta be cold but I can’t move.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

“Hi,” she says softly.

We remain frozen, the weight of the last five years hanging between us like a noose. She looks older, sharper—less like the girl I knew and more like a stranger wearing her face. But then her lips curl into a familiar smirk, and I’m nineteen again, helpless and drowning in her orbit.

Then Stacy steps up behind me. Tokyo’s eyes flick to her, sharp and assessing, before dropping to her thumb, twisting my ring like it’s a lifeline.

“I didn’t know you had company,” she says, her voice steady, but her fingers twisting the ring—her tell, the one she never outgrew.

“She’s just leaving,” I snap, unwrapping Stacy’s hand from my waist and grabbing Tokyo’s wrist, pulling her inside.