Page 23 of Pretty Lies

FIVE

“RISE AND FUCKIN’ shine, little sister!”

“Ugh.”

Of course.

Of course, J would use the spare key for Della’s townhouse to enter her place way too early in the morning. It was only meant to be used for emergencies.

When had her brother ever cared about details?

Never.

That’s when.

His voice bounced along the downstairs corridor and up the stairwell. It traveled all the way to her master bedroom at the far end. There was a sort of glee to his tone that said J had probably been awake for a couple of hours and already had a good start on his morning.

Great for him.

It kind of annoyed her how some people—people like her brother—could be that chipper first in the morning, to be honest. She needed time to wake up, put on her face, and be able to pretend like she gave a shit. Which was hard to do when everybody else wanted to be morning people. Like that should even be a thing.

Damn them all.

She didn’t even have time to prepare for her brother because just as she rolled over to her stomach in bed to pull the blanket higher, she heard his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs. Their mother—Chloe—liked to say anyone knew when J was in a house because he walked like a herd of elephants. Frankly, their ma wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t come in my room,” she mumbled.

Probably too low for her brother to hear. Not that it mattered. It’d never mattered to J.

He came storming into her room the same way he used to do when they were teenagers, and he needed to yank her out of bed for school because she refused to get up for her mother’s calls.

“Seriously, it’s nine,” her brother said, although his voice was slightly muffled from the fact she was still hiding under the blanket. Not that the reprieve lasted for long. He grabbed the edge at the bottom left corner and yanked hard enough to pull the blanket from the bed entirely. That left Della splayed on her stomach in the middle of the bed wearing an oversized T-shirt, cotton shorts, and cold from the air that wrapped around her. “Get up, we’ve got shit to do.”

“I hate you, J.”

“Nah, you love me. It’s the law of siblings or some fucking nonsense.”

Right.

“Is it also the law that I can kill you for being annoying? If not, it should be.”

She muttered that against her sheets.

Her brother only laughed.

The asshole.

“Damn, you really are tired, huh? That was your lamest comeback ever. Really, though. Get up. Dad wants to see you.”

His tone softened a bit for that.

Della sighed. “I’d rather not.”

It felt like all she had done since the attack—which left her with a bad bruise, a concussion, and a trip to the hospital where her entire family gathered like it was going to be her last night on earth—was talk to her dad. About everything.

From the business she’d done alone without her brother’s supervision to the ex who showed up the night someone decided to hit her in the side of the head with a bat on her own fucking doorstep. And she was right about how Frankie would feel regarding her ex. Her father had absolutely not approved.

He wasn’t mad.