Dax shakes his head. “Is that all of it? Are you sure you didn’t leave anything on the shelves?” Sylvie leans out of the driver’s side and sticks her tongue out at him. He laughs and flicks his head at Cas to close the trunk. “Fine. Drive safe. I expect you both home in under an hour. No detours.”
“You got it!” Sylvie calls out. “A movie night is called for, I think. Now that I know Tom’s safe, I might be able to relax.”
“Then I’ll order pizza,” Dax offers.
“Wait…not health food? Not that calorie-controlled bullshit you pay Margaret to make me eat? Real pizza?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
Sylvie mimes zipping her lips and locking them before throwing away the key. Dax chuckles and circles around to his car while I buckle in.
Dax climbs into the driver’s seat, but waits for us to leave along with our sedan-shaped shadow. I marvel at the casual normalcy of that interaction. For the first time, they seemed like a real family.
Sylvie speeds out of the parking garage, zipping through the Heights as though the roads are made only for her. I don’t have a chance to grab the handle, I’m too busy bracing myself against the dashboard. “Holy crap, are you trying to kill me?”
“I just want to get back before Dax does. We used to do this alot. He always wins. One day, I’m going to follow him to see which roads he takes.”
“Well, my money is on you.” I don’t mention that I don’t have any. There’s no need. We both know it.Damn, I have to get back to work.
“His car is fast and, in case you haven’t noticed, Celeste’s old bust up tin-can hasn’t got much going on under the hood,” Sylvie admits.
“Celeste?” Am I supposed to know who that is?
“My older sister. Dax hasn’t mentioned her?”
The sister she mentioned earlier? “No. She not around?”Wait, didn’t she say her sister…shit!
“She’s dead.” She says it bluntly, staring straight ahead at the empty road. I can tell the words hurt to say, but she carries on as though it were old news. “She got caught up in an argument and took a bullet meant for someone else.”
Fuck. I thought maybe an illness or…well…something less violent. How do you respond to that? And why does trouble seem to be synonymous with the name Trevainne? Dax and Franz, Tom getting shot, Ben being shady as hell. Now Sylvie’s sister too?
“I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t mention her. Dax is kind of cold. He keeps himself to himself. He has his reasons, but for a long time now he hasn’t bothered to even talk to any of us, no matter argue, or laugh, or order pizza.” She smiles ruefully. “You saw how dismissive he was with Tom. He barely said a word until you entered the room. I know you have a love-hate thing going, but don’t give up on him. Even if you just spend all day arguing, I’d rather see him like that than shut off,” she admits.
We drive in silence. Sylvie shared more than she probably intended, and I’ve been given more to think about than I expected. So, when my phone buzzes twice in quick succession, we both jump.
The first message shows a sexy red lace ensemble laid out on top of a deep blue bedspread. The angle of the shot picks out thedetails of the pattern in the lace. Thousands of miniature couples wrapped in forbidden embraces. I suck in a breath. It’s beautiful but thrillingly obscene.
I close the image as soon as my brain kicks into gear, but from the closed-lipped smirk on Sylvie’s face, she’s already seen the photo. I open the text message with trembling fingers.
Tell Sylvie to drive faster.
“Pizza will be here in fifteen minutes,” Dax yells as soon as Sylvie and I fall up the stairs. It turns out the only thing Sylvie likes more than shopping and driving like a crazy-woman, is movie night. She hauls me up the stairs by the arm, before propelling me into the room like a derby-girl performing the whip. I stumble, pull a one-eighty, and land on my arse at Dax’s feet.
“Ouch.”
“Sylvie! Slow the hell down!” He glares at her until she mouths the word sorry and then turns back to me. “Bruised butt?” he asks, leaning down to help me up.
“Probably.” I grin up at him, using his weight to pull myself up. “Sylvie’s a little enthusiastic about getting home.”
“Perhaps you should havecome with methen?”
I lean into his ear. “Are we arguing again?” I ask, using his words from earlier. Only, between the two of us, we’ve made them something else. They mean more.Are we flirting? Do you want me? Shall we play?
“Red lace, Jules?” he whispers back. “Not what I expect from apractical girl like you.”
I pull away and shrug my shoulders, kicking my shoes off at the heels and sighing as the cool wood eases the burn in my feet. “Maybe you need to let go of your preconceptions. We both know what those get you.”
