Page 72 of Little Lies


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“I dunno, like a mickey? I didn’t have any of the small ones, and Lav has been on a Jell-O kick like she’s seven again, so I figured I was doing the world a favor by recycling. Plus, we’re dudes.” He motions to me and the other guys. “Pudding-cup-sized shots seem way more reasonable.”

“You’re an idiot, Mav,” River snaps. “Look at her.” He motions to Lavender, who’s still hugging her brother. “If she pukes, you’re cleaning it up.”

“Don’t be mad, Rivy. I promise I won’t puke.” Lavender pats him awkwardly on the cheek.

River blows out a breath, his frustration obvious. “You can’t promise that, Lav.”

“Okay. Well, if I do puke, I’ll be really quiet about it.” Lavender tips her head back and smiles up at her brother, who’s a good head taller than her, although pretty much everyone is.

Even that small movement sets her off-balance, and she stumbles back a step. River grabs her arm to keep her from falling over.

Lavender has never been particularly coordinated. She could fall over an idea. Drunk Lavender is a damn mess.

A damn hot mess.

A damn hot, sexy mess.

Lavender is no longer the quiet, awkward, anxious, knobby-kneed little girl with bruises all over the place and paint in her hair. She’s grown up in the years since I last saw her. A lot. She’s more woman than girl, and she has all the curves to prove it.

“I’m fine.” She knocks her brother’s hand away. “Besides, I’m not worried about seeing Kodiak anymore, so that’s a good thing.” She shivers, and her breath puffs out in white clouds. She drops her voice to a whisper. “Is he still here?” She brushes her hair out of her face and adjusts her headband thing. It’s still sitting wonky. “Do I look okay?” She smooths her hands over her hips.

River closes his eyes, exhales slowly, and tips his chin up. When he looks back at her, his expression turns dark and grim. “Yeah, he’s still here, unfortunately.”

Lavender’s eyes go wide, and she twists around, her gaze landing on me. I watch a dozen different emotions pass through her vibrant blue eyes, all of them making me want to slam my head into a brick wall. “Kodiak.”

My name is more a breath than a word, but I feel it like a hit of cocaine.

“She’s seventeen, fuckhead. Don’t get any ideas in your dick.” River elbows me in the side and puts a protective arm around her, turning her away from me. “Come on, Lavender. Let’s get you some carbs and your bed.”

“He was there the entire time.” She glances over her shoulder, stumbling along beside him as he rushes to get her upstairs. She’s too uncoordinated to move at the speed he’d like, so he picks her up and carries her through the kitchen. She doesn’t fight, but her body is rigid, and her gaze stays locked on mine until she disappears up the stairs.

Maverick runs his hands through his hair. “Shit, this is bad.”

“We’ll go up and stay with her,” Lacey and Lovey say in unison.

“River isn’t going to leave her side now.” Maverick’s gaze darts to me and back to them.

Lovey props her fist on her hip. “But she’s going to need help getting out of her cosplay outfit.”

“She can’t sleep in it,” Lacey agrees. She grabs her twin’s hand, and they rush after River and Lavender.

“That’s your baby sister, huh, Mav?” Dawson smirks. “So, like, when she’s not jailbait, can I take her on a date?”

Maverick’s grim expression shifts into a wide smile, but it’s not friendly in the least. He clamps a hand on Dawson’s shoulder. “You so much as look at my sister, and I’ll hold your arms while my brother replaces your tongue with your dick. And believe me, he’s crazy enough to do it.”

Dawson’s eyes go wide, and he raises his hands in submission. “Whoa, dude, I’m kidding.”

Maverick throws his head back and laughs, and Dawson joins in. His is nervous though. “Me too,” Mav says, grinning and shaking his head no. His smile drops. “Lavender is off limits.” His hard gaze shifts my way. “To everyone.”

Maverick and I don’t talk about Lavender, ever. It’s understood that she is not a topic for discussion.

After my family moved to Philly, it was easier to pretend she didn’t exist and I hadn’t fucked her up by being me. In the five years between moving and now, I’ve avoided every single family function in which I might’ve ended up in the same space as Lavender.

Until today.

Because there’s no way I’ll get out of seeing her over the holidays, so I figure I might as well rip the bandage off and get it over with. Except I’m starting to think that wasn’t the best plan. Not after years of nothing.

This must be what an addict feels like when faced with a syringe of heroin and no one to stop him from jamming the needle into his arm.

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