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I can’t help but scoff.

“Speaking of scandal, didn’t I see these outside that Ford dealership down the street last week?”

I shoot him a glare before annihilating the last few.

Sera comes in behind him, nose in the air. “Smells good in here. What is that?”

Pounding my way up the stairs, I leave them both in the foyer with their pointless observations, giving as much shit about them as I do the shriveled vinyl trailing behind me.

The weight of his stare is nothing compared to the weight of his words as he says, “Some sort of bread, perhaps?”

But I don’t dare give him a reaction one way or another before disappearing into my room.

I waited seventy-nine days for this? For her?

Kota didn’t even deserve that shit, none of it. Not the banana bread, not the stolen balloon tower, not the hours a day I spent on social media, searching every post, every story, every video she was tagged in over the last two and a half months just for a glimpse of her.

Today, I finally got to lay eyes on her but he ruined it. I don’t know what Guy’s been up to all summer, but based on what he was doing the night before Kota went on tour, I have a pretty good idea. If he’s brave enough to fuck around on his girlfriend when she was under the same goddamn roof, there’s no way he stayed loyal while she was out of state. Dirty dick motherfucker.

How did Kota stay with him? Why?

She’s sexy and flexible and sweet, when she chooses to be. She could get anyone she wants, including me. Shit, she did have me. For a second.

I wasn’t enough for her. I never will be, not compared to Guy Humphries. He’s driving around in a Defender, meanwhile I’m in a twenty-year-old Dodge Ram. It was cheap but at least I paid for it myself. I guarantee Guy didn’t pay for his ride. Running around, dropping off papers to his daddy’s clients? There’s no way he’s making enough to afford a Land Rover on his own.

It’s enough for Kota though. If that’s what she wants, she can have him. They deserve each other.

I’m fucking over it. Over her. Kota Rhodes can kiss my ass.

Four days ago, the ice princess returned, along with her perfume or body wash or whatever the hell smells so fucking good. After months of missing Kota’s scent, every square inch of this polar palace is now drenched in it, and I can’t go anywhere without catching a whiff of her.

Even when I leave the house, I can smell her on my clothes, which is pretty fucking baffling considering I haven’t seen my stepsister since Guy was swinging her around like they were in their own personal rom-com, fuck the rest of the world, the real world, me.

She hasn’t made an effort to speak to me, so I’m reciprocating. I don’t have anything to say to her anyway. I put myself out there and she still chose Guy. Girls like Kota Rhodes will always choose guys like Guy Humphries. While they’re inevitable, I was just the interruption.

A fact I’m reminded of with every cherry-infused breath I’ve taken since her return. I can’t get a break.

Even right now, I can hear her voice through my door and I’m not even straining. I’ll admit she is louder than usual, so she must be on the phone. She’s asking someone if they have enough…something. I don’t catch the word or the rest of the conversation.

I mentally count the number of stairs there are, picturing her walking down each one, then out the front door, before leaving my room.

Thankfully, she’s nowhere in sight, but our parents are a different story. They’re in the kitchen when I enter, one of them not paying me any attention, the other eyeing the fuck out of me.

I stare back at my dad, trying to figure out what his deal is, and where he keeps finding shirts with swordfish on them. Guaranteed dude has no idea what a swordfish is.

To my surprise, a beautiful blonde comes out of the pantry. Not because she’s beautiful but because she didn’t leave like I assumed. Like I hoped. Damn it.

Concentrating on the bag in her hand, Kota says, “I’m taking—” Finally, she looks up, pausing when she spots me. Almost immediately she focuses on her mom, holding the bag up higher. “These.”

Then that beautiful blonde is brushing past me like I’m nothing more than a speck on the floor she’d rather avoid.

“For yourself?” Sera questions with a scowl.

Marshmallows. That’s what Kota’s holding.

“For everybody.”

“Not too many, right,” Sera suggests more than asks.