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“Uhh.” He clears his throat again. “Not that I don’t love hearing from you, Evie, but why would you call me? I’m in Mammoth. If someone’s in your backyard, you need to call the sheriff.”
“No!” I cry, immediately berating myself for the loud noise. “No.” I force the word out in a whisper, shaking my head rapidly. My eyes skim my bare legs, the messy living room, and my very evident drunkenness. “I can’t call them. I’m drunk and there’s spicy Chinese everywhere.” My hand flails around. “And I’m naked,” I whisper-hiss.
“Oh my God!” he shouts. “I don’t wanna hear about that shit, bro. Fuck. You’re like my sister. That’s disgusting.”
“I’m not—” I start, but he quickly breaks out into a chorus of la la la, ignoring me. “Shut up, bro,” I scoff.
He bursts out laughing but quickly stifles it when another bang has me screaming. This time, it’s followed by a loud, rapid knock against a window.
“What happened?” All previous humor has left his voice. Apparently he’s taking things more seriously now. Good. “What’s going on, Eve? Are you okay? Do you need me to come or get Roman—”
“No!” The word pushes from my lungs. “Don’t you dare tell him, Chase Tanner.” I take a deep pull from the bottle and tuck it under the crook of my arm. “I’ve got this. Just stay on the phone with me in case I need you to call for backup.”
“Jesus, Eve,” he breathes. I can just picture him running his hand through his short dirty blond hair as his blue eyes stare Heavenward. “What will you say if you need help? Like, worst-case scenario—there’s a robber, and he’s trying to burgle you or some shit.”
“What will I say?” I mumble as I reach down and snatch up the iron poker from next to the fireplace, inspecting it. It’ll do. “If a robber is trying to burgle me or some shit,” I mimic, creeping toward the kitchen, “I’ll scream help, Chase. Obviously.”
“It’s not obvious!” he cries. “Obvious would be calling the goddamned cops, not your best friend’s older brother that lives literally hours away, Eve. Fucking Hell.”
I giggle, then quickly tuck my lips between my teeth as I reach the white cabinets closest to the hallway. My eyes scan the U-shaped kitchen, looking for any sign of robbers, but I come up empty-handed. Just as I’m about to report back to Chase, a black shadow pops up out of nowhere, filling the small garden window above the sink.
“Oh, fuck no!” I scream, tossing the poker across the kitchen. “Nope. No. No. No!” It clatters to the ground uselessly. I dart backward and collide with the dining table, nearly dropping everything in my arms.
“Eve!” Chase shouts at the same moment another very familiar voice yells, “It’s about damn time you showed up, bitch. I’m catching the heebie-jeebies out here!”
Breathing out a sigh of relief, I sink against the table and laugh. “Oh, thank you, Jesus.”
“Eve?” Chase snaps, sounding frantic. “I’m calling the cops if you don’t say something right the hell now.”
Grinning, I tip my head back. “It’s fine, Chase. Apparently, your sister is out doing something that’ll likely get her locked up.”
“As long as it’s jail, I’m fine with it.” I bite my lip at his mumbled words, knowing the weight of them with my whole heart. “Are you sure it’s her? Is she okay?”
Pushing off the table, I close the distance between myself and the window, stepping over the abandoned poker on the floor.
“Oli!” I call, poking my head into the box window. “You good?”
“I think I have the plague,” she groans.
“Excuse me?” Chase cries. “What does that mean? Is she okay? Is she dehydrated?” He continues on with his inane barrage of questions that will probably go on for the next hour, so I make an executive decision and hang up on him.
“Your brother’s going to call you in ten seconds,” I laugh, dropping my phone onto the counter. Leaning over, I flick the switch for the back porch light and immediately come up short. I open my mouth to say something but am interrupted by Oli’s phone ringing.
The sound of Fetty Wap’s 679 fills my otherwise quiet home, making me chuckle.
“What?” she snaps, lifting her black-gloved hand to her ear as she answers the call. “No, Chase. I can’t talk right now. I’m busy.” She pauses, her free hand flailing in exasperation. “It’s top secret, I can’t tell you.” She scoffs. “Of course, I wouldn’t kill you, silly.” She grins manically. “I’d let the goats do it.”
My eyes rake over her body, still not sure what to make of her appearance. She’s dressed head to toe in black. Black leggings, hoodie, gloves, and combat boots. Yet she’s topped it off with a pink crochet beanie that’s tugged down over her face with holes cut out for her mouth, eyes, and nose.
I cock my head to the side as my eyes narrow. I’m pretty sure that used to be my beanie. I also believe it once had a pig face where the holes now exist.
I roll my eyes. Brat.
“Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow.” She nods, adjusting the pack on her chest. My chuckle turns into a full belly laugh. I don’t know how I missed it. “Yes, big brother. I promise I’ll be good.” She visibly crosses her fingers, moving them around in a weird dance. “I can’t make any promises on the plague yet. The itches could be from mosquitoes or scurvy. Only time will tell. Kay, love you. Bye. Oh my God, Chase. Bye!”
Oli pockets her phone and turns back to face me, her chest heaving. We stare at each other for a long moment. I take another sip of wine, sad that some of my buzz disappeared in the previous panic.
“Why are you wearing that shirt, Eve?” she finally asks, tugging on her—my—beanie.
