Page 9 of Heavy

My brow arches and I take a step back, my eyes sweeping over her entire body. She’s wearing black leggings and a cropped tank top, showing off the tattoos stretching from shoulder to shoulder. Both of her ears are pierced to high heaven.

“Didn’t take my brother as a cradle robber.”

Not that I’m here to tell him to do anything, but she is far too young. When I look down at her hands, she’s got several rings on, but not one on her ring finger.

“Brother… Eamon?” Again, her tone is weird, but the blur of the alcohol reminds me quickly that I just don’t give a shit.

Looking from her hands to her chest, I stare at her hard nipples. She’s not wearing a bra, and I can see the small bars through them. Well, the balls attached to either ends. We match, how cute.

Without lifting my head, I raise my gaze to hers. “Who are you?” I ask once again.

“My mom owns this house, along with my stepdad, Eamon.”

“…remarried ten years ago, now have a stepdaughter.”

“Fascinating.” I lean back quickly, startling her, then walk around the counter to the fridge. The liquor swirls pleasantly in my brain, lifting me off my feet as if I’m floating. Just a few more drinks and I might finally get some good sleep. “You can leave now.”

Her gasp is quite girly, causing me to roll my eyes. “Excuseyou,youcan leave. I don’t believe you are Eamon’s brother. I didn’t even know he had one.” I swear she’s lying but I’m so beyond the reality of caring right now that I brush it off.

“Call your dad to come pick you up.”

Before I close the door to the fridge and bring the whisky bottle to my lips, her eyes go wide, and her mouth falls agape.

“How old do you think I am?”

As the liquor rolls down my throat, I close my eyes and lean back against the counter. “Eighteen.”

“Fuck off. I’m twenty-seven. I also have my own car, I can take myself!”

“Then do it.”

I can’t handle this; I just want silence and solitude. That’s why I specifically asked my brother not to come see me.

Taking another drink, I throw myself from the leaned position I’m in and move back to the hallway. “You’ll be gone when I wake, or I’ll call Daddy to come get you.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” I’m just about to reach the corridor leading to my bedroom when she rushes toward me. “You don’t belong in this house. I can’t have you just—oof!”

She slams into my back as I come to an abrupt halt, and the sound of my towel hitting the floor elicits a deep growl that rumbles up from my chest.

“Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry.”

I turn slowly to face her. She stands upright, looking directly into my eyes. It’s hard to see her clearly in this dim hallway, but I can only imagine that she’s turning red—hopefully due to embarrassment.

I lean into her. “Pick up… my towel.”

She takes a step back and swallows, her eyes darting nervously to my collarbone before quickly locking back onto my face.

“Now,” I grit through my teeth.

Her eyes shut and she drops to her knees, scrambling for the towel. I’m tempted to kick it between my legs, forcing her to crawl like a dog to retrieve it. But no, she doesn’t deserve that. I’m tired, drunk, and craving silence, and she represents everything I don’t need right now—and it’s pissing me off.

Ugh, I have a niece who’s eleven years younger than me. How the hell does that even happen?

Step-niece.Semantics.

As she stands and stretches out her arm, holding the towel, her fingers press against my sternum. I trace my gaze up her wrist to her elbow and along the rest of her arm, noting the small, seemingly random tattoos that adorn her skin. They suit her petite frame perfectly, leaving me curious about whether the rest of her body is inked as well.

Not enough to want to tear her clothes off, so I’ll leave it.