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I shake my head, needing to expunge those thoughts from my mind and quickly turn around to leave. But just as I’m at his door, the devil on my shoulder whispers in my ear.
Annabelle.
That’s his password.
Shit.
I turn my head over my shoulder, staring at the computer on his desk that taunts me.
Am I that unscrupulous that I would use his dead mom’s name to get into his things?
Don’t do it, Sky.
Don’t you dare do it.
Not wanting to feel more like shit than I already do, I don’t question it when I rush to his desk and press the keys on his keyboard, spelling out the one name that means something to Noah. When his monitor springs to life, I’m even more disgusted with myself.
“It’s done now. No use in turning back,” I tell myself out loud, but it doesn’t ease the guilt I feel.
There is only one folder on his desktop, and on autopilot, I quickly click on it. My shame and guilt increase tenfold when all I find are articles and pictures of sail boats.
Great.
I just stooped to my very lowest for nothing.
Serves me right.
But just as I close the monitor, the small hairs in the nape of my neck stand on end, and I don’t have to turn around to know I’ve been caught.
“You have exactly one minute to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in my room. Start talking.”
Shit.
Busted.
Chapter 8
Noah
Sixteen years old
“Talk,” I utter curtly into the phone, as I try to balance it on the crook of my neck while simultaneously wiping the oil from my hands.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Derrick teases on the other line, and even though I can’t see his face, I know the fucker is smiling his all-American toothy grin.
“Kind of busy here, D. If you have something to say, just come out and say it and stop wasting my time. I’ve got shit to do.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re always busy these days.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask after I’ve thrown my oil rag to the floor to hold the phone closer to my ear.
“It means that you’ve been slacking off lately. My sister can’t shut up about how you’re always busy with something or other. Suddenly, you don’t have time for your friends anymore? What’s that shit all about?”
I let out an irritated exhale, since it seems Stacy let her watch dog off its leash to fight her battles for her. The girl thrives on confrontation, but when it comes to me, she prefers others to do her dirty work for her. Her older brother being her go-to guy for the job. I’m not one bit surprised that Derrick is calling me. I’m just surprised it’s taken him this long to do it.
“Do you really care, or is this social call just to get your sister off your back?” I ask outright.
“Both, asshole,” Derrick mumbles, aggravated. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is these days, but I suggest you get your shit together, pronto. I’ve had it up to here with my baby sister complaining to me twenty-four seven about how you no longer make any time for her.”
