My heart quite literally stops beating and falls all the way to my gut, right out of my ass, and lands on the floor.
Boston’s face drains of all colour, inches from mine
My mind immediately reels, trying to solve this problem before it begins. With one look at Boston, it’s clear I have to take the lead here. We have mere seconds before things go completely ass up and we have to use them wisely. His brain has left the building.
My car isn’t here, it’s parked at the condo. My shoes are sitting at the door of The Penthouse, which my brother will not spot unless he goes snooping around in there, which he won’t do—unlesshe goes looking for Boston.
He has to go and put on the performance of a century. Right now.
“Go!” I whisper, reaching for the bathroom door. I open it, not giving him a second to overthink. With one last look at his terror-ridden face, I shove him out of the bathroom, whipping a towel at him to cover himself with. He somehow manages to catch it, despite looking like he’s about to pass out, so that’s a good sign. He hasn’t completely powered down on me.
I can’t blame him. I might faint, too. Right here. Right now. On his bathroom floor.
“Boston!” my brother screams.
“You have to go,” I whisper, my heart pounding in my ears. “You have to pull it together. Go down there and act your fucking ass off, Boston.”
I shut the door in his terrified face, lock it, and flick off the lights. I doubt my brother would just waltz up here and use this particular bathroom, but you can’t be too safe. If he tries to use this one instead of the two on the first floor, someone up there is really out to get me, and I deserve to be caught.
I keep my back pressed against the door, my whole body shaking, and let out a long breath when I finally hear Boston’s feet climbing down his steps.
Good. He’s moving.
“You need to learn to knock.”
“Oh shit, were you in the shower?” I hear my brother say. “Getting in a little rub and tug?”
They head further into the house, their voices fading to nothing. What feels like hours pass. I sit at the door, my arms wound around my legs, my eyes burning with tears that I refuseto shed. My heart is seized by panic. Why is he here? What are they talking about? I have no idea where my phone is. That’s all I keep thinking about. Did I leave it in the kitchen? Is it on Boston’s bedroom floor? Is it on silent? Is one text message going to destroy us?
Carter didn’t sound angry. He sounded completely normal. Absolutely fine. He sounded like Carter.
Which means that he doesn’t know. He just happened to show up at the worst possible time, and Boston just happens to need to learn how to lock his doors.
What if my car had been here? What would I have done?
What would Boston have done? What wouldCarterhave done?
Eventually, the doorknob turns, but meets resistance. My head snaps up, my breath getting stuck in my throat.
A light tap follows.
“Ari,” Boston says gently.
I rise to my feet, unlocking the door. I open it slowly, peering into the hall.
Boston reaches in and flicks on the lights. He scans my face, his brow furrowed in the middle, eyes wide.
I stare up at him, consumed by worry. That was too close for comfort, but it still wasn’t enough to make me let go. It’s not enough to make me want to quit. But surely, Boston is going to run now. That was a warning shot. A karmic warning shot.
Boston doesn’t say anything. He steps forward, slipping his hands under my jaw, and presses his mouth to my head before he pulls me to his chest. “You okay?”
“Are you?”
“No,” he answers honestly. He’s trembling, I can feel it. “He came by for a beer. Arden’s working nights and you’re working late on your school work. He was bored.”
Shame hits me, but not enough of it.
“I’m not ready to stop this yet,” I admit.
