Page 5 of Twist the Knife

“Nooo,” she answers slowly to punctuate her annoyance.

“All clear. No hidden cameras or anything weird that I can find.” Rooster strides into the living room. “It’s a nice place, Jezzie.”

She beams at him. No attitude for ol’ Uncle Rooster, she saves the snark for me. “Thank you, Logan.”

“No problem.”

“Actually.” Jezzie lunges at me and throws her arms around my neck so fast, I take a quick step back to balance myself. “Thank you. For finding this place, paying for it, moving me here.” Emotion wells up in her eyes and she glances away, hugging me tighter and resting her cheek on my chest. “All of it.”

Even though I’m not usually a hugger, I return the embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground. The scent of cotton candy tickles my nose. “Proud of you, Jezebel,” I murmur against her hair.

She lets out a harsh laugh and pulls away. “Two colleges in the last three years. And I’m still mooching off you. What’s to be proud of?”

“You could’ve gone to no colleges and spend your days milking goats and popping out babies.” That’s the life she would’ve had if our father’d had his way.

“Ugh.” Her face screws into a disgusted pout. She pops her fist against my shoulder. “Why’d you have to ruin a nice moment by bringing up our freak show family?”

“Can’t help it.” I tug at a large chunk of her long, multi-colored hair. Pink, blue, and purple this month. “I like this. Reminds me of cotton candy.” It also reminds me that she has choices now. Hair colors outside of nature would not have been permitted on the Killgore farm. Better to leave that unsaid, though.

“Is that your way of saying I look like a clown?” she asks, gathering all of her hair and twisting it into a bun, then letting it fall down her back.

I roll my eyes. “No.”

“It’s pretty,” Rooster says.

“Thanks.” Jezzie glances around the small, sparsely furnished space. Love seat. Desk. Bookshelf. Lots of boxes of books. Heavy boxes of books. Paying for her living expenses isn’t difficult. She doesn’t ask for much. The most expensive thing she owns is the neon purple fat tire ebike she asked for last Christmas. She swears that’s all she needs to get around campus and the small college town.

“I’ll get a job so I can take over some expenses,” she says with a serious squint.

I snort. “Your cell phone and Spotify subscription aren’t breaking my bank, Jezzie. Just worry about school.”

“I think this is going to be a better fit for me. Almost all of my credits transferred. And once I get these summer classes done, I’ll officially be a junior.”

“I think you’re going to do great here.” I stuff my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. “And I like having you closer. I want you to come visit when you have time off.”

“You can stay with us,” Rooster adds.

Her eyes light up. “With you and Shelby?” She squees. “I still can’t believe you’re engaged to Shelby Morgan.”

Rooster chuckles. “You and me both.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe anyone wants to marry his homely, bearded face, either.” I shrug. “It really is true love.” I cock my head. “Since when do you listen to country music, anyway?”

“Shelby’s more than country music. She’s a lyrical genius.” She slaps my arm and grins. “I still can’t believe you’ve been out on tour with her and Dawson Roads. I wish you’d let me ride along.”

“Maybe next summer,” Rooster says.

I had a different answer in mind.

“You sure you’d let me around all your MC brothers?” Jezzie flashes a wicked smirk at me.

Joke’s on her. If she’s going to date anyone, I would rather have her with a brother. I just can’t think of one who’s single and close enough to her age who I’d trust with my little sister. Jezebel’s grown into such a contrary little pain in my ass, though. If I tell her I want her to date a Lost King, she’ll be engaged to a fucking FBI agent or worse in no time.

“Yeah, they’ll all know to keep their hands off you.” That’s sure to piss her off.

“Ugh.”

There’s a buzzing, and Rooster pulls his phone out of his pocket. He taps my arm and I nod.

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