Page 67 of Single Malt

“You don’t think you have enough sisters?” I asked, curious as to what had prompted her declaration. She’d asked me earlier if she’d interrupted plans for tonight, but at the time, I’d assumed she would’ve asked the same thing on any other night just as a matter of courtesy. Now, I wondered if it’d been something else.

“Pfft.” She blew out air. “You can’t date sisters, silly.”

I laughed. “That’s an excellent point.”

“I know.” She grimaced as we hit a bump.

“Sorry. I’m trying to drive as smoothly as I can.”

“Best driving is flying.” The words were slightly slurred, blunted almost.

“If you say so.” I glanced at her again. “We’ve got a bit of a drive. Why don’t you take a nap, and I’ll wake you up when we get home.”

“Your home.” The words were forced.

“Yes, Paris. I’m taking you to my home.” I kept my tone gentle. “Now, go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Soon, the only sound in the car was her slow and steady breathing, and I was more or less alone with my thoughts again. This time, however, Paris’s words had gotten me thinking. When I got home, I’d text Freedom to let her know that I hadn’t blown her off. It was the right thing to do, regardless of whether or not this thing between us led us anywhere.

But maybe, just maybe, I could follow my little sister’s advice.

Forty-Three

Freedom

I hadn’t yet givenup on getting to sleep at a decent hour, so my light was off, and my eyes were closed when my phone alerted me to a text. Aline had gone to bed almost immediately after I’d arrived home, and she’d been sound asleep when I’d checked on her before I’d turned in myself.

Since she knew I was home, she wouldn’t be texting me, even if she was awake at the moment. No one involved with the university would be sending me a message this late. Which left my parents, and either of them texting at this time of night meant it was important.

I sighed and rolled onto my side, reaching for my phone. I really hoped this wasn’t a case of my father accidentally composing and sending a message via voice-to-text. It’d happened before…while my parents were having sex. Those had been words I couldn’t unsee. To this day, I’d never told either of them about it because I knew it’d be horribly embarrassing for them and me. In fact, I liked to pretend it had never happened at all.

Neither of their names showed on my screen, however. It was the last name I wanted to see, tonight or any other night. Or day. Ever.

Brody McCrae.

I considered just deleting the message without even reading it, but a part of me wanted to know what he had to say for himself. I wanted my anger to be justified. I wanted to tear apart whatever excuses he gave or give in to some righteous indignation if he was annoyed that I’d left without a goodbye.

When I opened the text, however, it didn’t make me feel justified in how I felt. It just made me go from being angry to furious.

Sorry for rushing out without letting you know what was going on. I looked for you but didn’t see you. My sister called to ask me to pick her up at the ER. She dislocated her shoulder hang-gliding in San Leandro.

What. The. Fuck.

I’d heard him call the woman Paris, and I seriously doubted he knew two people with that name. It had to belong to the beautiful dark-haired woman I’d seen with him before. Paris Carideo, the archeologist.

No way was that his sister.

First, his last name was McCrae, and hers was Carideo. Granted, a different last name didn’t one hundred percent guarantee they weren’t related since she could’ve gotten married and Carideo was her spouse’s name, but I hadn’t seen a ring on her finger at the art exhibit.

And I’d spent enough time watching the two of them together that night to know.

They also looked nothing alike. Not in complexion, hair color, eye color, facial features…nothing. Yes, I knew that not all siblings resembled each other just because Aline and I did, but it was just one more thing to support my belief that Brody was involved with Paris.

Also, a point in my favor was how completely ridiculous his lie was.

Hang-gliding, at night, in San Leandro on Valentine’s Day, and she called her ‘brother’ to come get her at the hospital? It was too ludicrous to even say out loud.