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“Because they hate me.”
“Because they’re threatened by you,” I corrected. “Because goodness shines out of you, and they’re throwing shit to take that shine away. Don’t let them win, Shan.”
“How’s BCS going for you?” she asked, clearly trying to take the limelight off herself by steering the conversation toward me.
“School is school, Shan,” I replied, staring out the window. “Same shit, different day.”
“You know the real reason I’m home in the middle of the day,” she replied. “What’s your real reason, Joe?”
“Already told ya.” I shrugged and took another drag of my smoke. “I’m in the doghouse.”
“Why do I feel like that’s not true?”
I shrugged again. “I just couldn’t be bothered sticking around.”
“Why don’t you talk to me, Joe?” she asked then, tone laced with sadness. “I’m always confiding in you, but you never do the same.”
Because I can’t. Because you’d crumble. Because I need to protect you. “You know me, kid,” I replied, climbing off her bed and moving for the window. I turned back and offered her a smile. “I’m bulletproof.”
She stared back at me, uncertain, for a long moment before whispering, “If I tell you something, do you promise not to get mad?”
Pushing her window open, I took another drag of my smoke before flicking the butt away. “Depends.”
“Promise me, Joe.”
“Okay, I promise.”
Chewing on her bottom lip, my baby sister squirmed in discomfort before throwing her hands up and blurting out, “I kissed Johnny Kavanagh.”
Well, shit.
I wasn’t expecting that.
My brows shot up in surprise. “You kissed…”
“Johnny Kavanagh,” she filled in with a nod, cheeks reddening.
“Okay,” I replied slowly as I tried to navigate this new fucking territory that my baby sister had unceremoniously thrown me into. This wasn’t a conversation she needed to be having with her older brother. This was an older sister conversation. Or a mother and daughter conversation. Instead, she was stuck with me. Fuck. My. Life. I could feel my buzz deserting me at a rapid rate. “Was that all you did with him?”
Please say yes.
Please Jesus, don’t tell me anything else.
“Yes,” she strangled out, nodding eagerly.
“When?”
“Monday night. At his house.”
“At his house?” I arched a brow. “Where in his house, exactly?”
“His bedroom.”
Now both my brows rose along with my blood pressure. “His bedroom?”
“But he didn’t kiss me back,” she blurted out, wringing her hands together. “And I feel so embarrassed about the whole thing, Joe.”
“Why didn’t he kiss you back?”
