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“It does a lot of things for me.” Her silly fucking smile widens and she wags her brows suggestively, teasing about sex, even when she’s not in the mood for it. Most of our friendship was flirting without an endgame. So I’m used to it in our relationship, and I don’t want it to go away.

I draw her closer, her chest pressed against mine. “Like what?”

She rests her arms on my shoulders, her fingers running through the back of my hair. “Like I now feel one-hundred percent better. No more lower-whatever pain.”

If that were the fucking truth, I’d be wearing this underwear every fucking day. “I have more medicine for your lower-whatever-fucking pain,” I remind her.

She mock gasps. “You added a ‘fucking’ to my pain. How could you?” She mimes fainting, and I catch her as she falls against me.

“How’d you make it into this world on two fucking feet?” The girl never stays still, never stops. I shake my head. I love her, every minute of the day, and she doesn’t even realize, doesn’t even see how much.

“Are you saying I flew?” She rests her chin against my chest, and I think she’s been spending too much time with Lily.

Before I can mention it, the front door unlocks and everyone goes still, Daisy stiffening in my arms. I whisper in her ear everything that happened, catching her up as quickly as I can. She relaxes some, realizing that Willow has to be in the foyer, not Cleo or Harper or any other fucking horrible person that she can imagine.

Just as Willow appears from the foyer, someone else trails closely behind her.

“What is this?” Lo asks, gesturing from Willow to Garrison, a guy that’s been on all of our shit lists at one point. Even Lily and Daisy’s, who can barely even accumulate five names.

We all have a lot more patience with Garrison after he started working at Superheroes & Scones with Willow. They’ve been friends, but I didn’t think he’d join her tonight.

Garrison points at Willow. “Well, this is Willow.” His voice is thick with sarcasm. “I’m Garrison Abbey. Nice to meet you.” He stuffs his hands into his leather jacket, his brown hair concealed with a backwards black baseball cap.

Connor chimes in, “As far as first impressions go, you’re now ranked below this one.” I think he’s going to motion to Lo, but his fucking finger is directed at me.

I flip him off with both hands.

“So I need to tell you all something,” Willow speaks, rerouting everyone’s attention. She pushes up her black-rimmed glasses, a strap of her overalls sliding off her shoulder. Her light brown braid is frizzy, and I notice that she shares Lo’s hair color, but her eyes—they’re brown with hazel around the center.

Like mine.

Maybe now, more than before, it really fucking sinks in. She’s my sister. It suddenly means something more than it did, connects me to another person in a more meaningful way. Still, it’s all uneven and fractured and rough as hell. I’m not sure how the knowledge would affect her, if it’d change her perception of me. Make it worse between us.

She continues, “I thought it’d be a good idea if Garrison was here too.”

Lo stands while Lily stays seated, clutching his legs to keep him from chasing Garrison out of the house.

“Is he a part of your news?” Lo asks tentatively, and the bottom of my stomach drops.

Daisy keeps an arm around my waist, and I realize it’s for the same reason that Lily is holding onto her husband.

“Yeah…” Willow pales a little, her nerves fucking apparent.

Garrison edges closer to her and clasps her hand in comfort.

“Are you pregnant?” Lo asks.

I hold my breath for a second, fucking worried, and then her eyes grow big.

“What?” she chokes on her surprise.

“Yeah, what?” Garrison glares and gestures to the entire room. “If anyone’s knocking up anyone, it’s one of you, and honestly, what the hell are you wearing?” He grimaces at me.

“Underwear,” I say. It’s not a big fucking deal.

“I see that, thanks,” he says dryly.

Willow swallows, “So, um…this didn’t really go how we thought it would.”

“Why are you saying we like he’s a part of this?” Lo snaps, pointing an accusing finger at Garrison.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Willow struggles to get the words out. “I’m a…”

Garrison squeezes her hand, scrutinizing her frozen, immobile state before finishing for her, “Virgin.”

Lily peers over the couch. “You’re a virgin?”

Garrison groans. “No, she’s a virgin. Good God, it’s like tuning into five different radio stations at once when I come here. Don’t you all ever get tired of each other?”

“I’m mostly tired of you,” Lo slings back, a shot right to the fucking head.

It hurts Garrison more than I think he’s letting on, his stance closing off. “Whatever,” he says.

Regret tightens my brother’s gaze, but he tries to just focus on his sister—or our sister. “Your news can’t be that you’re a virgin and your friend isn’t one, so what is it? Because I keep thinking you’re leaving—”

“I’m not leaving,” Willow says. “I don’t have plans to move back to Maine. I promise I’d tell you if I was even thinking about it.”

He nods slowly. “Is it…about something else with your parents?”

It’s cagey enough, but she shakes her head, dismissing it so fucking quickly. She has no clue that Jonathan Hale is her father. That’s not what this is about.

“Then what?” Lo asks.

“We’re together,” Willow suddenly says, briefly lifting her hand up with Garrison’s.

My face mirrors Lo’s scrunched up expression like this can’t be a good fucking thing. I’ve heard him say some derogatory things towards women before. I can let it pass as word vomit in the heat of the moment—maybe he’s grown up since then. But I still have no idea how he treats women. If he’d hurt Willow, physically, emotionally.

That’s all I care about. Her safety. Her wellbeing.

“What do you mean together?” Lo retorts.

Connor sets his arm behind Rose on the loveseat. “They mean it in the colloquial sense. They’re an item, going steady, boyfriend-girlfriend, baes—”

“What the fuck is a bae?” I interject.

“One of the stupidest internet trends,” Garrison answers, “and I’m pro-internet and pro-memes, so you know it’s gotta be fucking awful.”

The fact that Connor is up-to-date on slang is actually kind of fucking terrifying. He’s usually a step behind Lily and Lo on pop culture. I’d rather Connor Cobalt not be all-knowing.

“I kinda liked baes,” Lily says solemnly, as though she’s lowering the term into the grave as she fucking speaks.

“This is ridiculous,” Rose announces. “They just declared their relationship status, and everyone’s more concerned about a made-up wor

d.” It’s clear she had no idea what it meant before now, but I doubt she’ll admit it out loud, not with Connor here.

“Not me,” Lo snaps, his malice directed at Garrison.

“It’s only been a week,” Willow explains quickly. “I know it’s not a long time, but I really didn’t want to sneak around, especially since I live with some of you.”

Garrison gauges her emotions, his concern for her pretty apparent. It minutely eases my fucking worry.

“We have rules,” Lo starts.

“Have fun,” Lily declares, her smile overwhelming. She’s predicted this relationship a couple of times, but no one really wanted to talk about its possible fruition. Now here we are.

“No, not have fun—what the hell, Lily?” Lo gawks at his wife.

“They’re eighteen.”

“Yeah, we’re eighteen,” Garrison echoes.

Lo glares. “Last I remember, you’re still in high school.” He flunked out of his senior year and has to repeat.

Garrison sighs heavily. “You’re not her fucking father.”

“You’re right,” Lo says, “I’m her brother and the first person she should trust while she’s in Philadelphia.” He takes a step closer to Garrison. “She’s my responsibility, and while I trust you with a lot of things, I don’t want you upstairs in her room past two a.m.—and two a.m. is more than I’d give any kid of mine.” Another step. “And keep the door open.”

I like the fucking rule.

Although I’d probably make it midnight, but it’s not my place.

Willow relaxes some against the wall, not that put off by this declaration. Maybe she’s nervous by the prospect of something more intimate. I think, if what Daisy has told me is right, this would be her first boyfriend. I’m not even sure if she’s been kissed yet.

I’m in the fucking mode to protect her, almost angled to show Garrison the fucking door earlier rather than later. I think he senses her uneasiness because he backs off too, their hands slowly disconnecting.

He nods to her. “I’ll text you, okay?”

She nods back. “Will you check my gifs before you go to bed? I want to post them, but I think one isn’t working.”


Tags: Krista Ritchie Calloway Sisters Romance