“Sorry I haven’t visited in a while,” I say, “I got myself arrested. Turns out Dad was right.” I laugh. “Fucker always had to be right.”
In a lot of ways Hope was the complete opposite of me. Sunshine to my lightning. Calm to my chaos. But we both had a complicated relationship with our father. It’s probably why we were so close. Trauma bonding and all that.
Technically Hope is my half-sister. Her issues with dear old dad stemmed from the fact he left her mother when she was six to marry mine and Lachlan’s.
Mine stem from the fact I overheard him telling my mother I was a freak of nature that belonged behind bars, which you know, frankly, is just rude. In his defense, I was seven and had just tried to strangle my cousin. I didn’t see what the problem was because I let go way before any damage would have been caused, but apparently that didn’t make it any better.
Hope wasn’t mad at me when I told her about the strangling incident, she just went up to her bedroom and got one of her notebooks. I watched her use a shimmery blue gel pen to writeFlynn’s rules for livingon the front of the book and then together we started filling it out.
Rule #1: No hurting good people because Hope likes them and they’ve done nothing wrong.
I was okay with the rule because I didn’t really have any desire to hurt my cousin in the first place. I just wanted to do it because I knew I shouldn’t.
Maybe that’s why I’m so hooked on Hazel, because she is exactly the type of girl I shouldn’t be anywhere near. I’ve been living off the memory of her falling apart in my arms. The way her lips parted as her climax arched through her. The heady, glazed look in her eyes as I played with her pleasure like it was mine and mine alone. She was so soft in my arms after, her hands still clinging around my neck. It was the most alive I’ve ever felt and I want more.
“I met someone,” I tell Hope, crouched in front of her grave. I imagine us sitting on the couch, a grin on her face and her braids whipping as she spins to face me.
Tell me everything. Is she pretty? What’s she called? You can’t stalk her, Flynny. You have to actually ask her out.
I sit back against the willow tree, the slightly damp grass seeping into my jeans. “Lach thinks I’m going to get her hurt.”
Lach’s a worry-wort. What do you think?
“I think I’d cut off my own hands before I hurt her.”
Gross but also cute.
“She makes the world go quiet.”
I close my eyes and Hope is right there, fingers twisting the end of her dark brown braid as she tilts her head and looks at me like only she could. Like she understood my mind.It’s not against the rules for you to fall in love, Flynn.
No, but maybe it should be because I’m not exactly Prince Charming material.
As if to prove my point, my phone pings with an alert telling me Hazel’s leaving her house.
I open the exterior cameras just to check she gets into her car alright, but my brow creases when I see what she’s wearing.
Flynn
Coat, Hazel. It’s 35 degrees out.
I watch her as she stops on the porch and reads the message. She looks up from her phone, a tornado in her eyes as she spins to face the house. There’s no way she can see the camera, but she finds the angle with surprising accuracy as she holds up her middle finger and scowls at me.
I chuckle but then she turns back around without getting her damn coat and my humor drains away.
Flynn
One more step without a coat, Lilac, and I’ll come over there and put it on you myself.
She goes still and I watch her debate whether or not to read the text I just sent. The satisfaction I get when she caves and looks at her phone hums through me.
She disappears inside the house, and I mourn the loss of her until my phone buzzes.
Lilac
You said you’d turn the cameras off.
Flynn
