“There’s a New Year’s Eve party on Thursday,” Duke says, turning sideways in the chair and hanging over the arm so he can toss the football higher, toward the vaulted ceiling. “Think you can get off daddy duty long enough to come hang out?”
“It’ll be like the old days,” Baron says, cracking a grin and snagging the football out of the air before tossing it across the room to King. “When was the last time the four of us were at a party together? The town won’t know what hit ‘em.”
“He doesn’t want to come to a high school party,” I say, frowning at the twins. King’s an adult now, with a wife and kid on the way and a job that must make us look like petty little bitches. And the twins don’t need to spill all our business to him. He’s got enough to worry about.
“I’ll come,” King says quietly, his eyes fixed on me.
“We don’t need you watching us,” I snap. “We’ve been taking care of ourselves for the past year, and we don’t need you to come in here and try to manage us.”
He stares me down, the bastard never losing his cool. “I’m going to be a dad, Royal. I’m not Dad. How fucking old do you think I am? I can’t even legally drink.”
“We’ll be leaving at midnight,” I warn him.
“It’s at the Hockington,” Baron says. “You can get a room there with Eliza if you want.”
The muscle in King’s jaw twitches, and I look away before he can make eye contact. He doesn’t know all my secrets, and I don’t want my face giving anything away. The bastard can still read me way too fucking well. That’s why he went on about Harper. He saw me with her for all of one minute and could tell she has my head twisted all around.
At least, that better be all he knows. If he was talking to my brothers or Dad about her, I’ll fucking kill them. And there’s no way he could know about her otherwise. We didn’t even know she existed when he lived here.
“We’ll just come back here after the party,” he says, sounding all cool and shit, like he always does. Like he doesn’t have the same memories of that place that I do. He’s not spending the night with Eliza there any more than I’d get a room for me and Harper.
I don’t even invite her. I don’t need her or King getting up in my business, learning anything about each other. I don’t need my brother lecturing me about how to treat her ass, like she’s someone worth making an effort for, or her prying into my family like she’s looking for the pin in the grenade. The pin’s already been pulled, tossed in the river, and washed away, never to be recovered.
*
The party is boring as fuck, like usual. I get a beer and stand around with my brothers, but I’m not about to get drunk in public, to make a fool of myself like Duke. Cotton informs me there’s a coke room upstairs, but I’m not interested. I hang around thinking how fucking ridiculous this whole charade is, how exhausting. I could be at home. I could be fucking Harper and spilling my guts to her like she’s a stranger at a bar, the way I always do.
After I told her the first thing about Crystal, it was a relief. I thought that was it, that I’d gotten to say her name aloud without being looked at like a monster who murdered his twin or a piteous, broken boy who needed to be smothered and treated like something fragile. Everyone either knew her and saw the disgrace of our family blowing apart, or they hear about it and think they can fix me, rescue me from some imagined sea of torment.
Except Harper. Harper listened to me talk about my dead sister like she was real but unremarkable, like what happened is nothing special. So I kept talking, waiting for her to be like everyone else, to give me looks of pity and predatory intent, to be shocked by what happened, to start using kid gloves when dealing with me. When she didn’t, I told her more. And the more I said, the more I had to say.
Sometimes, she asks questions or makes comments, but when she talks about Crystal, she’s blasé, almost callous. She doesn’t pretend I’m not fucked in the head or make excuses for why I am that way or what I’ve done because of it. She calls me on my shit and doesn’t let me off the hook when I fuck up. And though all those things piss me off, part of me craves that, needs more of it, the way you tongue a loose tooth even though it sends pain piercing into the root.
“Here comes trouble,” Baron says, bumping my shoulder with his. “Want me to take her off your hands?”
I look up and there she is, crashing the fucking party at the last place I want to see her. She and Lo walk in arm and arm, and half the guys in the place turn to stare. Lo smiles serenely, basking in the attention. Harper cases the joint like she’s looking to rob it blind later on. I wouldn’t put it past her. She has no business in this place.
I storm over to them, ignoring the inevitable whispers that follow me wherever I go. I want to clock every single person in here, knock their heads around backwards so they’ll quit staring. I can’t do that, so I laser in on Lo. At the last second, I reign it in, making my voice come out cool like King instead of raging at her the way I want to.
“Surprised to see you here,” I say to Gloria.
“I could say the same to you,” she says lightly.
I ignore Harper, not even sparing her a glance as I talk to Lo. “We’ll be leaving at midnight.”
“Well, obs,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Who stays at a New Year’s Eve party after that?”
I’d walk out the door right now if I didn’t have bullshit business to take care of with the twins later.
“What are you really doing here?” I ask.
Lo’s wearing a little dress, but Harper’s in black jeans, heels, and a sparkly top. She’s got a face full of makeup, probably Lo’s doing. I hate every single fucking thing about this—the clothes that make guys look at her more than they already do; the makeup that makes her look like she’s trying to be something she’s not, like she’s trying to impress someone by being fake instead of not giving a shit and being real, the way she does with me; the fact that she’s here at all.
“We’re just here looking for a few boys to kiss at midnight,” Harper says, her red lips pulling into a smirk. “Know anyone who might be looking to get lucky?”
I arch a brow and don’t rise to the bait. “If you want me to put someone in the hospital, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart.”
That wipes the smile right off her face. Good. She needs to remember what this is.