Page 91 of Whistle

“It’s not gossip. It’s a question.”

The irritation in Rush’s voice was what jolted me back to the present. Well, that and the fact that when I stepped off the bottom step and turned the corner, three sets of eyes turned to look at me.

I froze instantly, the tension in the room smacking me in the chest. How could I forget we weren’t alone here?

Sucking in a shallow breath, I turned to flee back upstairs.

“Were you upstairs?” Rush’s words and squinty glare stopped me in my tracks.

I darted a quick glance at Emmett, noting his deer-in-headlights expression, and my stomach dropped. My fingers grasped the hem of the shirt and tugged as I crossed one ankle in front of the other.

“Is that my dad’s shirt?” Landry asked.

A silence that was anything but silent charged the room as Rush’s eyes swept over me from head to toe, speculation ripe in his assessing glare. Whatever he saw darkened his features and pinched his face. I knew that look, had seen it pointed at many people over the last ten-ish years.

Very rarely was I the recipient.

Until now.

I braced myself for the cyclone of Rush’s anger, my shoulders tensing to my ears and my thighs pressing together.

He shot forward, and I chastised myself for flinching. I was used to fighting. Defending myself. This was no different.

Yes, it is. Having Rush angry with me was the second-worst feeling in my life.

I squeezed my eyes shut, heard a slam, and waited for it to rock my body. But I remained un-rocked.

“What the hell, Emmett?” Rush snarled.

My eyes flew open to Emmett being pinned against the wall by Rush’s forearm across his chest. Rush’s body trembled with anger, his profile hard as he glared.

“Get off me,” Emmett warned.

“I will when you tell me why my best frie—ex-best friend—just came from upstairs wearing nothing but your shirt.”

“Jason,” Landry admonished. “Stop.”

“Go wait outside, Landry,” Rush ordered, not looking away from Emmett.

“I will not!”

“He was in the shower,” Emmett said.

Rush drew back slightly. “What?”

“The showers in this house are upstairs, moron,” Emmett said, pushing off the wall and forcing Rush back. “Should I have banned him from the bathroom?”

Rush looked at me, then back at Emmett. “Why’s he wearing your shirt?”

“He borrowed it,” Emmett replied as if it were obvious.

“We got in late. His bags are still in the car.” He glanced at me, the expression in his eyes not at all what it was this morning in bed. “Right?”

My insides twisted, but I nodded. “Uh, yeah. Your closet was right there. Figured it was better than strolling out naked.” I glanced at Rush. “But maybe not.”

Landry made a sound, and I glanced at her. Right now, she was the easiest person in the room to look at.

“I, ah, used Coach’s shower. Didn’t want to invade your space.”

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