Page 10 of The Daddy’s Girl

At that, I have no response. Honestly, that’s what probably hurts the most. Julian, my taciturn, bristly, unlikable big brother, found love before me. And not just any love. Epic, all-consuming, ground-shaking love with two people.

It’s not fair.

“That is…” he adds before pressing his lips to the rim of his whiskey glass. Something about the mischief on his face tells me I’m not going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth.

And I am right.

“If you ever give up that obsessive crush of yours.”

My eyes widen and my cheeks grow hot. “Julian!”

He only laughs while I stare daggers at my best friend. She puts up her hands in surrender. “I didn’t say a thing.”

I was aware my brother knew I had a major crush—just not on whom. I mean, we did grow up together, and in my teenage years, I didn’t keep much held in. When I was obsessed with something, I made it my entire personality for months.

But the only person at this table who knows the subject of my infatuation is Freya. And if she promises she didn’t tell, then I believe her.

“What crush?” Archer asks. “Is it on me?”

“You wish,” I snap back.

He laughs, and Julian only scowls. “Both of you stop it.”

“Who is the crush on?” Matis asks. The sound of his voice even asking that makes me want to crawl under the table and never emerge.

“No one,” I answer flatly.

“Julian, don’t tease your sister,” my mom scolds us like we’re five again.

“Thank you.”

“Who is the crush on?” Matis asks again, the genuine curiosity on his face making me realize this won’t be that easy to drop. I should throw my brother off this roof right now.

“Seriously, no one,” I say without looking him in the eye. “You don’t know him.”

I feel Freya watching me with wide eyes across the table.

My brother leans back, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “It wasn’t no one when you stole his scarf in twelfth grade.”

I could scream, but he wouldn’t get it anyway. Julian has no idea the owner of that scarf is sitting at this very table. But Freya shoots him a terse glance for me, which I hope conveys to him to shut the hell up.

“You stole his scarf?” Matis asks.

“Yep,” Julian replies.

“No,” I say at the exact same time.

“Yes, you did,” my brother persists. “You still have it back home. I see it hanging on the back of your door.”

“It’s a good thing you’ve got two fiancés, Freya, because I’m about to kill one of them.” My fist clenches around a harmless butter knife, and I glare daggers at my smug, blond target.

The rest of the table chuckles while I continue plotting murder.

“That sounds pretty romantic to me,” Matis adds, stealing my attention for a moment. As I turn toward him, I wonder if he’d think it was so romantic if he knew the scarf was once his, and when I took it, I was eighteen and he was forty-six. He left it in the back seat of my parents’ car one night, and I’ve held on to it ever since.

It’s lost its scent over the years, but I still keep it as a memento. Neither of my parents come into my room anymore so neither of them has noticed it concealed behind my door.

I hide my beet-red face in my hands.