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She’s just so beautiful.
I almost break from that look alone. I almost drag my ass into the freezing cold lake just to entertain her. But then our earlier words come crashing down around me and I’m reminded that we’re back to square one.
We’re nothing to each other but a past full of twisted, broken memories and hurt.
I have no reason to make her smile. Even if Oli’s my best friend’s little sister, I don’t have to do shit for her. I especially don’t have to feed her delusions.
“I’m not getting in,” I repeat, my voice lower. Final. Eve’s smile falters, her brows twitching together.
“But—”
“No, Olive,” I snap. “It’s fucking late, and I’m tired. Just go home—” Her face, still shadowed behind the headlamp, falls. Eve lurches forward, her hands wringing together.
“I know my muscles aren’t as big,” she says hesitantly. “But I can help, can’t I?” I nearly scoff.
I understand why people are gentle with Oli. I understand why they tiptoe around her, making sure she’s always happy and never upset about anything. I understand it all, but, in this moment, I can’t make myself play the game.
Eve moves to the edge, and it takes all I have not to pull her away. It’s dark, and she could slip—I stop myself. She’s not my responsibility. Not anymore.
Oli’s hand reaches out, and Eve meets her halfway. Their hands grasp each other, and Oli jerks back. Everything after that happens in slow motion.
Eve’s free arm windmills as she tries to catch her balance, but Oli’s hold is too strong and down Eve goes. Water splashes as she lands in it, the droplets hitting my bare chest, sending goosebumps rippling over my skin.
For a moment, I just stare as Eve’s head pops up, her hair plastered to her head. Oli throws her head back, laughing like a lunatic. The silver glow of the moon shines bright, showing Eve in all her wet glory.
“Oli!” Eve cries, running her hands over her face, wiping the water away, but her voice is drowned out by Oli’s cackling.
Whirling toward the house, I shake my head.
I can’t believe this is my life.
Gathering the books in my arms, I leave the tutoring room. After sitting in there for twenty minutes, waiting, Clover’s foster mother finally called to reschedule. Which is probably for the best. I’m still exhausted after the stunt Oli pulled last night.
It took me way too long to explain to her that she was pulling on weeds, not Nessy. Then, when we climbed out of the water, she said something about needing to get back to the animals, and took off, leaving me soaking wet and freezing.
Roman was already asleep when I got inside—well, I assumed he was asleep since he didn’t come out of his bedroom. After a shower, I only slept for a couple hours before racing to the church.
Now, all I really want is to go home and pass out.
I round the corner, coming to an abrupt stop when I spot someone sitting on the steps of the stage, looking out at the pews. The cross behind him looks more like a bad omen than anything hopeful.
My heart lurches into my throat as I shuffle a step closer.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching the cherry at the end of his cigarette burn brighter with his inhale. Roman’s dark hair sways as he looks my way, his hazel eyes piercing me to my core.
“What?” he breathes, his voice a low rumble as his head cocks to the side. “A sinner can’t seek salvation?” My mouth opens, then closes. The books feel too heavy in my arms, but I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move. “Isn’t that why you spend so much time here, little sister?”
A sneer curves my lips at the words. “Really? We’re back to that?” God, he’s such an asshole. Irritation fills my gut as I go to a pew and set the heavy books down. Crossing my arms, I shoot him a withering glare. “I thought we’ve moved past the little sister comments.”
“Now, why would you think that?” he chuckles, his tone mocking.
He’s reclined back on the stage, propping himself up on his elbow as he watches me with a sardonic grin. His legs are spread wide, a cigarette pinched between his fingers before he brings it to his lips, taking a long drag, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I’m not your sister.” His grin widens, morphing into something sinister, something so hot that it makes my blood vibrate.
“Don’t pretend it doesn’t turn you on.” His voice is low like a lover’s caress, the sound ghosting over my flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He flicks his cigarette to the floor, snuffing it out with the heel of his boot. “I have a solution to all your problems, Golden Girl.”
The words pull me out of his spell, and I shake myself, steeling my spine. “What? You’re leaving?” The words come out stronger than I feel, and it gives me a false sense of confidence, one I’m sure he can see right through.
