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There’s a small chance Nic had similar thoughts. I elbow my way into a spot along the island next to Amanda, accepting the slice of apple blackberry pie from my mother before leaning close to my sister. “Ishestaying here?”
“Yes.” Amanda looks at me pointedly while she sips mulled wine from a floralThis Might Be Winemug. The mug is massive but true—it’s always wine. “Be nice.”
Oh, hey.Be nicenumber two.
“Herehere?” I prompt. “In this househere?”
Amanda rolls her eyes, tucking a strand of light brown hair that’s fallen free from her messy mom bun behind her ear. “Yeah. The kids all think it’s cool.”
I scoff. “The kids also eat their boogers.”
“Not since they were three.” She protests, but amusement turns up the corners of her mouth.
“Their uncle was a goddamn stunt performer. Why don’t they find Timbo cool?” Kids who eat boogers are possibly the only people who would mistake my twin for cool.
Amanda laughs. “They do.”
Timothy’s talking animatedly at the other end of the island. He’s only this excitable when he’s about to blow something up. Or leap off the roof. Or jump a car on a snowboard while another car tows him down the street. And he can’t do those things anymore.
Early retirement isn’t killing him yet. In fact, he looks good. Genuinely happy.
Totally not suspicious at all.
I take a bite of the pie, forgetting about my obnoxious brother and his dick of a best friend. Even on my poor scalded tongue, it’s perfect, the pastry buttery and light, the fruit tart and sweet.
My little involuntary moan at the deliciousness of what will be the first of many, many good things stuffed in my mouth over the holidays goes unnoticed by everyone.
Except for Nic, apparently. His eyes are wide and the faintest hint of a blush creeps up his neck.
He scowls at the‘what?’look I shoot him, tugging at the collar of his expensive shirt before going back to his pie.
Timothy drops a massive paw on Nic’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. Whatever he says deepens Nic’s scowl.
I smirk.
Until Timothy passes behind me, his voice close to my ear. “I saw that.”
Saw what? A glare? Plenty more where that came from.
And yet…watching all my boisterous family talking and laughing, I have to admit Nic’s reserved silence adds something to the chaos. A quiet sturdiness in a sea of noise and motion. Now that he’s back, I feel how much it had been missing.
Not by me, to be clear. I enjoyed the unbalanced, unhinged pandemonium, and I’ll hold my grudge against Nic forever.
Chapter two
Nic
“Bullshit.”
Through some miracle, I bite back my sigh as I pick up the pile of cards on the table. Every goddamn time. How is Jessie doing this? That smug turn of her full red lips has made itself at home under my skin.
It’s been five years since I’ve seen her, but I haven’t forgotten the special brand of hell that is being under the same roof as Jessica Foley. She’s effervescent, chatting and laughing, but the moment her gaze lands on me, she looks two seconds from violence.
She’s never liked me.
The day I moved in, Timothy marched into my parents’ house with the movers and declared himself my new best friend. We walked down to the small lake behind his family’s house, and Jessie was there, sitting with her back against a tree, a sketchbook in hand. Timothy ignored her, so I ignored her—but I watched her when he wasn’t looking. Anytime she caught me, she scowled and went back to her sketches, but there was something before the scowl. Curiosity.
I suppose I was curious too. I’m still fascinated by her. The constant shifts of her expressive face put nearly every thought on display. Worse, she’s pretty—dark brows over creamy skin that regularly blushes a deep pink. Long, thick auburn waves caught up in a loose braid. Lush mouth. Her amber eyes shift in color, like a glass of whiskey held in front of a fire. She’s captivating.
