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“Hello,” I rasp out.
“She’s not hurt,” a feminine voice snaps, and it sounds super fucking pissy.
I pull the phone away from my face and wipe the sleep from my eyes as I look at the screen. Damn it.Everly. “What are you talking about, blondie?”
“My sister.” Oh yeah. Definitely pissy.
It’s too early for this shit.
“She’s not hurt,” she insists. “Her ankle was bothering her. That’s normal for dancers.”
“Normal doesn’t make you take pain pills,” I argue and drag a hand down my face. I need coffee. Or maybe a Red Bull. “She was falling asleep on the phone. Over-the-counter shit doesn’t do that.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, god of war. Dancers know their bodies. And Gracie is an elite athlete at the top of her game, just like you and Cross. She’s a professional. She knows what she’s doing.” Everly’s voice leaves no room for argument, like she thinks this is the end of the discussion, and I’m supposed to roll over now.
Does she know me at all?
I don’t roll over.
Especially not where Grace is concerned.
She’ll realize that at some point.
“Good talk, blondie,” I groan.
“Grace has plenty of people to look out for her. She doesn’t need you doing it too, Ares. Don’t go getting any ideas about making my sister another notch on your bedpost.”
What the fuck?
“Sure, Everly. Whatever you say.” I crack my neck from side to side and groan...again. “Anything else you want to add, or are we done?”
“We’re good,” she tells me as if a switch flipped and now that she’s set her boundaries, everything is good now. “See you for dinner this weekend.”
“Yeah. Bye.” I end the call and give up on any chance of sleeping off the rest of the hangover from hell.
Caffeine. I need caffeine and grease.
Lots of grease.
I wander down to the room Nixon basically moved into and bang on the door. “Sinclair, you want to get breakfast?”
The door to the room across the hall opens, and Bellamy sticks her head out. “Breakfast? You buying?”
“I can buy,” comes from a female voice inside the same room.
“How did I not know you crashed here?” I lean against the doorframe and ask my sister, not really sure I want to know the answer.
Caitlin Beneventi opens the door and sashays around Bellamy and me on her way to the bathroom. “Because you were so drunk, Maddox and Nixon basically carried you to your room after the parade.” She slams the bathroom door shut, and the fucking axe slams down against my skull for the final blow. I close my eyes and suck in a breath.
I may never drink again.
Bellamy laughs at my pain, like the little brat she likes to be.
“No luck finding your own place yet?”
“I was thinking,” she starts off in her sweetest possible voice. Yeah, I’m about to get screwed. “Maybe I could grab your extra room for now.”
“Nixon already claimed it.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes.
