Could I get a tear?
I tried. I did. Chrissy would’ve been all over that, but it wasn’t a talent of mine. Still. I was convincing, because my half brother was looking at me with a mix of sympathy and guilt.
Good. He should feel guilty, for wasting away all the privileges he got as Peter Francis’s eldest son. Not going to be interested in computers, my ass. He was insane. Peter Francis might be my sperm donor, but I still would kill for an internship at Phoenix Tech.
It was in my blood. Literally.
I turned, pressing into the island counter with my fingers. I couldn’t pick at it. It was one giant piece of stone, so I did the best I could, rubbing the bottoms of my fingers against it. “I … I got to a dark place, okay? Stephanie was alarmed enough”—I nodded in the direction of Kash’s bedroom—“she called in a favor. I remember Kash when we were younger. He visited for a few years, but yeah, I’ve not seen him for almost twenty years. Don’t matter. Stephanie said I needed to get out of there, said I should stay here until I was better. A change of environment would do me good.”
I waited, holding my breath.
I didn’t dare look up. My brother was sharp, seriously sharp. He’d had one whiff of something not making sense, and this was his second attempt at figuring it out.
“I feel like a dipshit.”
My knees almost gave out from relief. He bought it.
Instead, I looked up, keeping sure my facial expression was locked up. “Yeah?”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I thought something funny was going on. Kash never brings girls here, but I don’t know anything about his family. Who am I to interrogate you, you know?”
Hell yes, but I only smiled. “It’s okay. You’re being protective.”
He snorted at that. “Don’t know why. If anyone doesn’t need it, it’s him.” He was watching me again. The suspicion was still there. “But you’d know that much, right?”
A hand reached inside my spine and took hold of it, in a viselike grip. That’s how it felt, because he was still testing me.
Enough was enough. I pretended not to see it and moved away. “Hmm, yeah. He always was when he was little too.” Opening a shelf, I asked, “You know where the glasses are? If we’re going to have a drink, we need a few of those.”
Hearing a door close from down the hallway, Kash must’ve gone back. He was alerting us, or alerting Matthew. Walking out, he yawned and tossed his phone on the couch as he passed it.
I searched his face, but there was no indication he’d heard anything that was just spoken.
He was a good liar, too. His eyes lingered on mine for a second before taking in the sight of us and everything on the counter. “We’re drinking? Didn’t you get in enough trouble last night?”
I saw my brother tense up beside me. His hand gripped the neck of one of the bottles tighter. “One can never get in enough trouble. What’chu talkin’ ’bout, Willis?”
Kash ignored the sitcom quote, padding into the kitchen and grabbing a tray of ice from the freezer. He slid it over the counter to us. “Fine, Matt. You want to have a few drinks, at least make them right, huh?”
It was later, after Matthew went to the bathroom, that Kash grabbed my wrist and pulled me to a corner of the room. He folded his arms over his chest, staring down at me, and standing close. Way too close.
Or that’s what I was trying to tell myself.
“What’d he want?”
He was studying me, but his eyes were first on mine, then dipped to my mouth. And lingered there.
And stayed lingering there.
And still more lingering.
It was a sauna in here. Someone threw open the doors and hell’s inferno had started.
I parted my lips, surprised at his proximity, but he wasn’t moving back.
He needed to move back, or I’d do something we’d both regret.
My hand was itching.
God. His jaw. It was so smooth, so square, so strong. I was itching to touch it, or maybe his chest. That shirt looked smooth. Or his arms, how they were folded tight over his chest and the muscles were bulging out. How there was a dip between them and—
He shifted closer, letting out a sigh and a hiss at the same time. “Listen.”
My eyes flew to his, and I gulped because his were intense, seriously intense.
He placed a hand on the wall behind me, trapping me in, but it was just one hand. His eyes were still boring down into mine, then fell back to my mouth.
“This. You. Me.”
I wanted to shift up on my tiptoes, getting closer. I didn’t, but holy God, did I want to.
Then, suddenly, a barrier fell back between us. Not a literal barrier, but whatever was in his head. I felt the cold rejection almost physically. He moved back, his face becoming stone again, and I jerked back into the wall.