“Now, where was I?” he quips, letting go of my knee. “Oh. Right. As for question number three, I took my dad’s last name as soon as I turned eighteen and could legally change it without my mom’s signature on the certificate. I doubt it’ll be enough to hide my true identity from the paparazzi, but it’s worth a shot, right? And question number two was…?”
“Why do you have three roommates?” I ask, grateful he changed the subject. “You said you’ve never taken anything from your mom except the house, which means you probably don’t need to live with anyone to help cover rent, right?”
“I did take the house.” His attention shifts to the two-story home in front of us as his fingers wrap back around the steering wheel, making his bruised knuckles turn white from the pressure of his tight grip. “She gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. I guess that I kind of figured she owed me, so I accepted it. I knew it wouldn’t even put a dent in her bank account, but I still wanted to see her pay for being a shitty mom.”
With all his defensive layers pulled back, I’m finally given a glimpse of the real River. And it’s one of the most captivating sights I’ve ever seen. Like a powerful ocean with high and low tides. Easy waves but also raging storms. Sure, he might go with the flow most of the time, but there’s an underlying current beneath his easygoing demeanor. One that I could get swept away in if I’m not careful.
“I’m sorry, River,” I whisper. There’s an electric current that pulses between us as I reach closer and rest my hand against his forearm that’s still braced against the steering wheel like he’s preparing for impact.
As if in slow motion, River’s intense gaze slides from my hand clutching his arm to my eyes, but I don’t let him go.
“I know it’s not the same––and that we’ve kinda, sorta already covered this topic––but I can relate to the whole shitty parents thing. I get it. But I want you to know you’ve turned out to be a pretty great guy in spite of a crappy mom.”
“I had my dad to rely on.”
“And I had an older brother who looked out for me,” I reply with a smile. “Without him, I probably would’ve ended up on a milk carton. Milo took care of me and made sure I was okay.”
Eyes shining with mirth, he teases, “Yeah, I may have seen his papa bear attributes once or twice in regards to you.”
I cringe. “I kind of figured. I’m pretty sure everyone has seen those papa bear attributes a time or two.”
“Does it bother you? Having him breathing down your neck for everything?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I’ve never had great luck at making my own decisions, as we’ve also previously discussed.” I laugh. “But I can usually trust Milo’s gut about things.”
“Usually?” he prods.
I’m not sure when I scooted toward the center console or how I ended up practically laying on it to get nearer to River, but I catch myself inching closer like an addict looking for her next fix.
I lick my lips and open my mouth to reply when the rumble of an engine cuts me off. Turning toward the sound, my brother’s bike pulls up the driveway before he kicks down the stand and swings his leg over the seat.
Speak of the devil.
As if he has some crazy sixth sense, he approaches the truck instead of heading inside after a long night at work. When he sees me up front, Milo opens the passenger door and helps me out of it without asking.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, he shoves me behind him and turns to River. “How’d your date go?”
It’s a pointed question like he’s poking holes in River’s response before he’s even uttered it.
“Fine,” River answers carefully.
“Funny. If it went well, I would’ve thought she’d be in your front seat instead of my baby sister, who”––his nose wrinkles––“reeks of alcohol, by the way. You get her drunk?”
“Milo––” I start, but he holds up his hand to silence me.
Raising his chin in my direction, a prickly River reveals, “She got herself drunk and needed a ride home. Sonny doesn’t get off work for another three hours. I was doing her a favor.” The driver’s side door groans in protest as River opens it with a little more force than necessary. “I was doing you both a favor. You’re welcome.”
Then he slams it closed and strides to the front door, leaving Milo and me in his dust.
Ignoring him, Milo turns around to face me, then demands, “He touch you?”
“What? No––”
“You sure about that?” There’s a tick in his jaw as he stares down at me, waiting for me to break under his scrutiny. But it’s not the first time I’ve had to go head-to-head with him, and it won’t be the last.
Even though the street is spinning, I cross my arms and spit, “Why the hell would River touch me?”
“Because he’s an asshole who doesn’t follow rules. I see the way he looks at you, Reese––”
“And how does he look at me, Milo? Huh?”
“Like he wants to fuck you.”
I flinch back, sobering at the sharpness in his voice. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I have rules, Reese. And I’m gonna need you to follow them, especially when I can’t trust River to listen to a damn word I say.”
“Milo,” I sigh. “You know I love the crap out of you, but––”
“Promise me, Reese. Right now, or I’ll take you to a hotel and pay the bill until you can find a different place to stay.”
“Milo––”
“Promise me,” he repeats. “I have my rules for a reason. I need to protect you from getting hurt again.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the memories from our childhood wash over me. The screaming. The broken dishes. The smell of vomit on the kitchen floor. The sound of Milo’s whimpers when our dad would hit him before Milo was strong enough to stand up to our asshole father. The nights when Milo would order me to run to my room and lock the door. When he would make me promise to keep it closed until the next morning. I remember all of it.
“I know, Milo. I know. You’ve always had rules. And have I ever broken any of them?”
“Just once,” he answers coolly. “And we both know how that turned out.”
Ian.
He told me Ian was bad news. He told me not to date him. He told me to stay away. But I didn’t listen.
And he’s right. We both know how that turned out.
Swallowing thickly, I nod my head up and down before he tosses his arm around my shoulders and guides me inside.
“Let’s get some more water in you, then get you to bed, sis. Come on.”
“Okay.”
14
Reese
My stomach rumbles its protest as I roll onto my side and shove a pillow over my head.
Who the hell would play music right now?
It feels like it’s five in the morning. With a groan, I blindly search for my cell phone on the nightstand beside me before prying one eyelid open to peek at the time.
It’s almost noon. Sticking out my lower lip, I wallow in self-pity for a solid three Mississippis, then pad down the hall and scowl at Gibson’s cracked door. The noisy musician stumbles on a chord but doesn’t see me as he curses under his breath and tweaks the progression another time.