“I think I kind of needed it, too.” I’m lying. I don’t need a damn thing from this asshole or his family. If I see Owen Vincent coming my way, I’m running for the damn hills. I glance over at my steak glistening under the lights, and my stomach turns.
“Oh, hey—” Owen nods over to someone at the bar and flags him over.
I turn in time to see a buff dude with a rag over his shoulder—a slightly curious look on his all too familiar face and—
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
There have been times in my life where I have wanted to disappear. They have been few and far between, but this right here is one of them. Why the hell is the universe turning up the shitstorm tonight?
“Don’t panic,” Jet whispers, and for some reason, I glom onto his words and try to do just that.
“What’s up?” Bryson Edwards. He offers a complacent smile my way before his eyes turn into ovals of regret, and he takes a step back. His face bleaches out. He’s holding his breath, and, truth be told, if he passes out, I’ll step right over his heart on my way to the door like he did to my sister all those years ago. “Grant.” His eyes close a moment. Only it’s not regret sweeping over his face anymore. It’s pure pity. “What’s up? How are you, man?” He steps forward, keeping his voice low like he doesn’t want to cause a scene. “What are you doing around these parts? You need a beer? I got a pint with your name on it.”
“No thanks.” I realize that the Mr. Nice Guy routine I just dumped on Owen like a fresh pile of bullshit should probably be reprised, but it’s all just a little too much, and all of my false pretenses are just out of reach. Nope, this is the real deal, the real bitter me they’ll both have to contend with. “Look, I’m not sure what’s happening, but I need to take off.” I turn to go, and Bryson gets in my way. That sorrowful look dripping off his features spears me in the gut. Bryson might be all muscle, but there’s something assuring in his eyes. I can see how Steph must have fallen for him. I just wish she didn’t. I wish he didn’t break her heart. She deserved to be loved. She was the best, and he missed it. In a twisted way, his rejection toward Steph feels like a rejection of me.
“Please, stop by—anytime. I mean it.” His chest decompresses with his next breath. “I miss her, too.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I knock my shoulder into his as I head out the door, hit the cool night air, and just keep walking. Rush is smart enough to let me go. And right now, I’m thankful Jet is, too.
I hit the end of the block and duck behind the alley. My back lands against a dumpster as I tilt my head back, eyes to the stars. It’s so beautiful out I want to kick the living shit out of everyone back there because Stephanie will never get to see the stars, see the beauty that life has to offer, take another crisp autumn breath.
A roar thunders from me as I turn around and smash my fist into the dumpster. A rocket of pain jolts through me, and something about that knife-sharp sensation feels like a damn good release.
“I’m sorry, Steph,” I whisper under my breath. I know she wouldn’t have wanted me to take off like that. I know she would have probably wanted me to give Bryson a hug for her. She was that nice. Hell, she would have wanted me to do the same for Owen. But I’m not into doling out free hugs just yet. I’m not looking to build a budding bromance with anyone even remotely connected to her death.
Bromance, romance. Darcy pops into my head. All those years of trying to make it work, trying to convince myself that she was right—that we were meant to be, that my sister’s death was simply clouding up the atmosphere between us. I’m still not sure if it was true or not, but I knew we needed to get off that merry-go-round. Deep down, I don’t miss her. Not in the desperate sense you would miss someone you love, not like I miss Steph for damn sure. But there wasn’t a spark. At least not like there is with Ava.
I blink back at the night sky a few times. What the hell was that? Do I have sparks with Ava? Should I be entertaining the thought?
I’d better get home. Better throw myself in bed and pray to God I fall asleep. My mind is slipping. There’s no way there’s a spark between Ava and me.
Nope. Owen and Bryson got in my head, and now my thoughts are unspooling. I always knew Stephanie’s death had the power to drive me to the brink of insanity.
And here I am.
Already gone.
On Friday night, the stands fill fast and steady as Whitney Briggs’ homecoming pregame madness sets in. The cheerleaders are doing their thing. The band is pumping up the crowd to unstoppable levels of self-righteous Mustang indignation. The home team has to take it all the way tonight, or they stand a chance to get lynched by the mob.
“You think they got this?” I shove my arm to Lawson’s as we make our way to the student section.
“My stepbrother’s got this. Rex is that good.”
“I know it. You tell me each and every time we hit a game.”
Lawson has nothing but nice things to say about his stepbrother lately, which is ironic because he all but threatened to pound his face in last summer. I guess his sister and Rex, the quarterback stepbrother, have been hitting the sheets. It made Lawson lose his mind for about a month straight. One night, he lost his shit on Bacardi and threatened to hunt Rex down and feed him his fist. Rush and I pretty much put a stop to it by locking him in his bedroom. He thanked us in the morning.
“Rush, my man!” Lawson belts it out as we thread our way in, fifth row up. It’s nothing but elbows and knees as we scoot our way into the middle of the bleachers. I still can’t see Rush, but I’m trusting that he’s there. First man in the bleachers always saves a seat.
“What’s up?” It’s not until Rush leans in to offer up a high five do I notice his hand is wrapped around a familiar, knife-you-in-the-gut stunning brunette, Ava. Lucky and Harper sit on the other side of Rush, but I can’t take my eyes off this girl right here.
Her hair is pulled back, showing off that glowing skin, those eyes that shine like a tropical sea, and those lips. Poets could write epics about Ava’s beautiful mouth. I swallow hard just thinking about ways I’d like to map it out.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” she screams as the roar of the crowd grows with ferocity. Ava wraps both arms around Rush and gives him a squeeze that looks as if it could land him in the ER.
Was she talking to him? My ego takes a hit at the thought. Ava and I’ve been inseparable for the last few weeks. Sure, she’s mentioned Rush a time or twelve, but I didn’t think she was serious. For sure she hasn’t mentioned the urge to squeeze his insides out of his throat. Not sure why the sight of them together pisses me off—most likely because I know Rush. I know about those girls he’s forever dragging up to his room. It’s not a pretty scene. Ava would hate it. She should hate it.
Lawson goes to take the seat next to her, and I step in front of him, effectively scooting him over one. There’s no way I’m letting Rush get away with manhandling my kid sister like that. I scowl over at him, but Rush hardly seems to notice. And once the WB Mustangs charge onto the field, Ava seems long forgotten by him. Rush is too busy screaming along with the rest of the crowd as blue and orange confetti rain down over the stands, pumping up the crowd ten times louder than before.
The game gets underway, and we finally take our seats. I butt my shoulder into Ava’s because it’s sort of become our thing.
“How’d that paper go?” I know for a fact it was due today. I checked out the final version last night when she sent it to me around midnight. I didn’t mind. That’s what I’m here for, right? Plus, I kind of like the twenty-four seven communication we’ve got going. It makes this bond the Greeks are trying to force on us feel real. Everything about Ava feels real.
“I sent it off right after you told me it was destined for scholastic gold.” Her candy pink lips curl up on the corners, and something about that tiny gesture melts the pit of my stomach in a pool of heat.
What the hell. She’s cute, that’s all—in a baby sister kind of a way. Ava is bundled in a bright red
pea coat with a white turtleneck peeking out from underneath—a blue Mustang scarf wrapped tight around her neck. She looks cozy, like someone you can cuddle up with, you know, to keep warm. My stomach churns as she clutches on to Rush like she’s about to fall off a building.
“I’m here, too, you know.” I give a playful wink. I’d hate to give her the wrong signal. Not that Rush is giving her the right one.
The crowd shoots to its feet, and judging by the way Rush picks up Ava and spins her, the team just did something short of a miracle on the field.
“Crap,” I say it under my breath before pretending to get lost in the emotion of the game myself, high-fiving Rush while pushing him down the row about six seats, but he doesn’t mind. As soon as the crowd settles, he sits down near Lawson, and the two of them continue to scream their heads off.
“Hey!” Ava falls into the seat next to me, threading her arm through mine. The sweet scent of her perfume wraps its vaporous arms around me, and it feels like home. Ava’s perfume is the perfect combination of sexy and sweet, just like she is. My eyes widen at the thought. “Where’s my date?”
“He’s not your date.” I shake my head at the field. There’s no way he’s her date. Rush doesn’t do dates. He specializes in fucks, not anything as humble as a quasi-chaste outing.
“Well, I need a date.” Those long lashes of her flutter like a pair of night birds about to take flight. “It’s my first homecoming. I need something decent to write in my diary.”
My entire body warms as she smiles at me. “You keep a diary?”
“No, but I figure if you had a baby sister she totally would.” Ava sucks in a breath as a look of horror takes over her face. “Oh my God! I’m sorry.”
“She was older.” I know what she was thinking. Ava would never want to hurt me, never want to hurt the memory I have of Steph, not that she knows that much about her. I’d love to share it with her sometime if she’d be up for it, and, knowing what a great person she is, I’m betting she would be.
She gives a solemn nod. “I sort of like being your kid sister.” She winks, carefully pushing us past the awkwardness we landed in. “You definitely have that overprotective brother mechanism built inside of you.” She glances past me toward Rush and frowns. “But I was sort of hoping Rush would have picked me—you know, that night, to be his little sister.”
The crowd screams in unison as if agreeing with her.
My heart thumps wild like a sledgehammer trying to drum its way out of my chest. “Why’s that?” I think I know why, but I want to hear her say it.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, turning her face to the field. The floodlights overhead wash her white as snow—nothing but lashes and those raspberry lips. Her eyes glint in the light, and you can make out her pupils lost in a clear sea of blue. I’ve never seen a creature quite so perfect, so boldly beautiful that even nature isn’t quite sure what to do with her otherworldly beauty. Ava is a stunner. There’s no way I’ll ever let Rush get his sexed-up hands on her. Not happening. “If I spent as much time with Rush as I do with you, maybe he would have noticed me by now.” Her cheeks piqué with color. “You know, as a woman.”
A quiet roll of laughter rumbles through me, but I stop short of letting it loose. Ava is a woman? Ava is a woman. A damn beautiful woman. Yeah, she is somebody’s kid sister, but technically, she’s not mine. An image of her sitting on my lap, that wicked grin of hers ignites as she strips off her sweater, and I’m met with a lacy bra, that deep well of cleavage.
I snap to and take a quick breath. Shit. Down, boy. Do not go there.
“I think he notices you.” I swallow hard. It’s tough not to notice Ava. I’ve seen half the guys at the frat house notice her on more than one occasion.
Ava leans back, inspecting me for moment, her brows bent with disappointment.
“At least someone does.” She gives the slightest hint of a frown, but I can feel her displeasure with me.
The crowd loses it, and we spend the rest of the game on our feet.
Ava wants to be noticed, and I can’t seem to stop doing just that.
All night long I make sure Rush is too busy noticing anyone else but Ava.
Now that’s a good big brother.
But the last thing I’m feeling toward Ava anymore is brotherly.
Saturday morning, I get up with the sun and head to the place I haven’t been in weeks. The Hollow Brook Cemetery is icy, abysmal with its spray of fallen maple leaves tickling the gravestones as they dance in the breeze. I make the trek to the crest of the hill where we laid Steph to rest all of those horrible years ago and kneel at her headstone, wiping away the grime that’s settled over the granite while thumping my fingers over her carved name. Stephanie Nicole Jones, Loving daughter and sister. Gone too soon. I wanted to add to it at the time. Something poetic that painted a picture of her nestled in God’s arms, but my father thought simple was best. He was probably right.
“Hey, Steph.” I lay a single white rose over her grave, the granite frozen like tundra.
“Sorry it’s been so long. I guess you can say I’m enjoying Whitney Briggs.” I let the breeze whistle by me a moment as I gather my strength. “I have something to tell you.” A knot builds up in my throat. All night I thought about doing just this. For some reason, it feels right breaking the news to Steph even before I break it to myself.
“I met a special girl.”
Sibling Rivalry
Ava
“I met a special boy.” I stare at my sister with that red moppet that sits on her head twirled in a bun. Aubree has always dyed her hair a beautiful auburn as a quasi-ode to her moniker, but at the North Carolina Women’s Correctional Facility all she can purchase in the commissary is a bottle of peroxide, thus the burnt orange ball of fire resting on her head like a flame.
“A boy!” She claps her hands together as if I just announced I had one rather than spotted one in the wild. Not that I’ve simply spotted Grant. I’ve talked and stalked him into a near oblivion over the past few weeks. I can’t help it. That boy is perfection through and through, not to mention his heart is so big all I want to do is quell the pain he’s constantly in.
“Yes, a boy.” I glance back in the event Owen is about to walk through the door. He excused himself to the restroom, which means I have less than five minutes to spill the hormonal details to my older, not wiser, nor saner sister—and I do.
“Wow.” She winces as if I just gutted a fish on the counter between us. “You joined Kappa G?”
“Would you pay attention to the important details? This boy makes my heart swim into my throat. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, and, for the life of me, I can’t get him to notice the fact I actually belong to the opposite gender.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like the opposite gender. You ever think of that? You’re hot, honey. If that boy doesn’t notice you, then he’d better get his eyes, heart, and balls checked out.”
“He has an ex. Some long-time girlfriend that he broke up with last spring. She’s coming down in a few weeks—I’ll get to meet her. Oh joy.” My stomach sours at the thought of meeting the formidable Darcy. “She still texts him all the time. I’m practically joined at the hip with him, so I sort of have a front row seat to the technological debauchery.”
“Joined at the hip, huh? And you honestly don’t think he notices you?” Aubree licks her lips from side to side two times fast. It’s a habit of hers I remember from as far back as when she lived at home. It’s kind of heartwarming to see that the girl I once knew is still buried inside of this stripped down version of my sister. “I had a big brother myself, and we were never joined at the hip. I mean, we hung out, got coffee once in a while. I think we saw a movie once, but that was a member function.” Her lids flutter as if reliving the memory. “How about the other girls? Any other brothers sniffing around their matchups?”
Lucky runs through my mind. She pretty much never brings up Rush, and come to think of it, Harper hasn’t even stood near Lawson at
a single mixer. She’s back with Justin, so she’s all but persona non grata.
My entire body sizzles with heat at the prospect of Grant offering me more attention than I ever deserve as far as being a little sister is concerned, but something tells me his kindness toward me is because he truly does miss being a brother.
“He lost his sister. He’s all alone now, and he likes our—you know, bond.”
“Who likes your bond?” Owen booms from behind before plopping in the seat beside me.
“You.” I smirk before shaking my head just enough at Aubree. If she ever wants to see me again, she’d better keep those lips zipped.
“Darn right, I enjoy our bond.” Owen picks up my hand and lands a sweet kiss to the back of it. “So, what’s got you ditching me every chance you get? Piper says she hasn’t seen you once since the semester began.”
“Piper is—”
“Right,” Aubree cuts me off with a simple pump of her shoulders. “Ava here tells me both you and your little girlfriend are making her insane. You do realize she’s trying to have a life, right? Just because she’s chosen to carry the family tradition at Briggs doesn’t mean she needs the two of you joined to her hip.” She offers a quick wink my way. “In fact, I’d like to suggest something that might make both of you happy.”
“Doubtful, but proceed.” I give Owen’s hand a quick squeeze because I’m only partially teasing.
“Why don’t you have a scheduled time together? You know, Monday dinners, or drinks at the Black Bear Saturday afternoon—except no real drinks for you.” She nods my way. “That way, you know when to expect one another, and you can get some good quality time in without feeling like you’re cutting into one another’s social circles.”
“That’s brilliant!” I’m the first to confirm Aubree’s wicked genius. She always was a cut above everyone else when it comes to intuition. Unfortunately for her, she honed that gift into a pure horror. Nevertheless, Owen and I visit religiously and have for years. We show up every other weekend, and our parents fill in the remainder. At the end of the day, Aubree is family. It’s just that she’s sick, and she needs help. The only thing we can do is love her. I know if the shoe were on the other foot, and I were the one trapped behind these walls, I’d want the same thing.