“Are you going to just sit there and let that inked-up creep speak to me like that?”
I raised my hands, palms up. “First things first, Anne,” I said, surprised at the amount of control I held over my tone. “Don’t ever speak about my husband like that. This is his home. And despite his lack of bedside manner, you will respect him while under his roof. If you can’t accept that, you know I’ll be happy to put you up at the Seasons.”
She gaped at me like she’d never seen me before. I spared Cannon a glance, his eyes fixated on me in much the same way.
“Secondly,” I said, returning my focus to her. “Did you try and apologize for your behavior?”
“Of course, you blame me.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I thought I could come here and vent and simply be like normal sisters.”
I flinched at the jab. The one she knew would hit home. Because we weren’t normal sisters. We hadn’t been for quite some time. Kind of hard to build a relationship with someone who constantly disappeared—usually right after destroying some family event. She’d broken my mother’s heart so many times, and I honestly didn’t know if I could take one more reckless decision from her.
“Fuck the Seasons,” Cannon said. “Maybe we should put your ass on the street. Maybe then you’d learn you shouldn’t bite the hand that—”
“Cannon,” I chided, despite a piece of my heart lifting at his defense of me. I sighed, but he stopped talking. “Anne,” I said, looking back at her. “You admitted you were the one who was drunk and got into the altercation. What happened after that? Because I know Father wouldn’t have kicked you out if you had apologized.”
“I may have kicked Gerald in the junk.”
Cannon hissed.
“And accused him of copping a feel.”
I cringed.
“I tried saying I was sorry this morning,” she continued. “First to Gerald, then to Mother and Father. They weren’t having it. Said they needed to issue tough love. They’ve kicked me out and cut me off. I have nothing but my car and those two bags.”
“Good thing the bags are worth more than some people’s cars,” Cannon grumbled.
“Darling?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes, Princess?” He mimicked my tone.
“Could you give us a moment?”
“Gladly.” He pushed off the island and disappeared, likely to his personal library. The one place he ever truly seemed happy.
“He’s not intimidating at all,” Anne muttered.
“He’s not,” I said. “Not when you get to know him.” Which I was doing my best to do. “Anyway,” I said. “What’s your plan?”
“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes. “Why are you always on me about having a plan?”
“Well, do you have one?”
“No!”
“This is why I always told you to go to college. I told you to get a job, a project, something to give yourself independent funds—”
“Yes, you did,” she cut me off. “But why should I do that? Why should I work and grind and be boring like you? When we have the means to go anywhere? Do anything? Anyone?”
“Because of situations like this, that’s why!” I snapped. “And just because I don’t country hop doesn’t mean I’m boring! I happen to love my career and my friends and my family—”
“Career, ha, what a joke.” She shook her head. “All you do is spend other people’s money.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, cooling the fire inside me. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable somewhere else.”
The reality of her situation seemed to catch up with her because fear flashed in her eyes. “I have nowhere else to go.”
“Fine. You can stay here until you’ve found a way to make it up to Mother and Father.” I scooted off the barstool. “But, Anne, so help me if you insult me one more time—”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a bit quieter than before. “It’s a habit.”
“Why?” I folded my arms over my chest.
“Because you’re the perfect one. The good sister. The one everybody admires and loves and favors.”
“I’m far from perfect.” I sighed. “And I’m far from the favorite. Mom can barely ever tell you no, and she’s told me no plenty of times. Plus, Father would do anything for you.”
“They kicked me out and cut me off!”
“Have you ever, for one second, thought they did that because of their love for you? Because they’re tired of seeing you waste your potential, your life, drinking, and over-indulging, and who knows what else? Maybe once you have nothing, you’ll realize what is worth giving up everything for.”
A few tense moments passed before she stood. “Can you show me to my room? I’d like to crash until next week.”
I nodded. “You carry your own bags here.”
She snorted but retrieved her bags.
Cannon had made himself scarce the rest of the day, going as far to have a long lunch with the boys that turned into a dinner, and then after-dinner hockey gossip. Langley had been right, they were as bad or worse when it came to team melodrama, eating it up like candy.
I finally gave up on him coming home for the night and took a good long soak in his enormously deep tub, a favorite audiobook of mine playing from my phone on the table next to the tub. I figured the idea of actually sleeping in the same bed with me was so repulsive to Cannon that he’d crashed at Logan’s or Connell’s, but he’d kissed me so passionately at the engagement party. Played my body so perfectly, like he’d known all the sensitive areas even I didn’t know existed. And yet, he wasn’t here. My heart sank, but I swallowed the emotion as I climbed out of the tub an hour later.
After drying and lotioning up, I slid into one of my dark red slips, the silk cool against my heated skin, ready to sink under the covers and sleep off the strain of such a long day.
I froze upon exiting the bathroom, the steam from the room following me into the bedroom.
“What in God’s name are you wearing?” Cannon snapped from where he was already tucked under the covers, a hardback clutched between his fingers.
“When did you get home?” I popped a hand on my hip.
“In the middle of your bath,” he said. “I didn’t want to interrupt. The audiobook you were listening to sounded…interesting.” He cocked a brow at me, and my skin flushed. The romance novel I was currently listening to had just come to the incredible part where the hero and the heroine make love for the first time.
“You could’ve told me you were home.”
“Were you worried about me?”
Yes.
“Do you need to be worried over?” I countered. “Figured there was nothing you couldn’t handle.”
He eyed my slip again, his opened book resting against a chest. A chest I now noticed was bare. I’d only seen it that one time in the locker room and now with him so close…sweet heavens, I wanted to pull those sheets back and see where those tattoos led.
“Again,” he said. “What the fuck are you wearing?”