Page 90 of Whistle

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Fucking brat.

I stood, and Bodhi headed toward the attached bathroom, but I caught him around the waist and pulled his back against my front. He smelled like me. But better.

“You take good dick,” I rumbled into his ear. “But you better make sure it’s the only dick you take because I don’t share, Goldilocks, and I especially do not share you.”

Again, he stretched, this time rubbing against me as his arms reached behind to rub the back of my head. I couldn’t help but tweak his piercing and nip at his arm.

“What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine,” he said. “As long as you play by the same rules, we won’t have a problem.”

He sauntered away, his naked ass on full display, and I had to physically stop myself from following him into the shower.

20

Bodhi

The scent of burned coffee floated up the stairs when I stepped out of Emmett’s room dressed in one of the T-shirts I’d stolen out of his closet. It was well-worn and soft, big enough to reach my thighs and conceal the fact I wore nothing else. All my bags were still in his car, the jeans I had on last night somewhere downstairs. And the thong, well, it was dirty.

He likes it.

The nail polish, crop tops, piercing, and lingerie.

Even when you were only a picture, you were all that I wanted.

He said that. To me.

I was used to random hookups without the exchange of names. To hearing generic lines like, “That’s hot,” and, “Your clothes don’t matter as long as you take them off.” I’d had my fair share of dubious consent fueled by alcohol and one-night stands I didn’t remember after.

Was I ashamed? Yes. But I’d never say that out loud. That shame resided deep inside me beside the hole my sister had left behind. I also thought maybe it was all I deserved.

For a long time, I subscribed to the notion of a happily ever after. Hoped I might find love like my parents and that I’d get to be the fun uncle to my sister’s kids.

One night, it all changed. One stupid decision that set off a series of life-altering events. And now I was here. No parents. No sister. No best friend.

No love.

I’d always been a little free with my style. Or maybe a better word would be fluid. I lived in board shorts and flip-flops on the beach, jeans and tees on the streets.

But beneath the casual surfer style was a lacy thong or a pair of silk bikini briefs. I loved the soft feel of the fabric, the sigh my body gave when I slipped them on. I’d always been on the small side, not really a head-turner like Rush. But when I slipped on lingerie, my unimpressive body was suddenly something to look at. My ass was rounder, hips and waist defined. They made me feel sexy and so did the crop tops.

Brynne used to paint my nails. It’s what little sisters do. I hated it when I was small, but the older I got, the more I liked the color on my tips and toes and the more I realized wearing them that way made me feel like me.

My coach at Pembrook hated it and said I couldn’t wear it to swim. It was unprofessional or some shit. Distracting in the water. I think it made him uncomfortable, but I never made it a thing.

I never used to make anything a thing. I was the quintessential Malibu brah. Live and let live.

And then Brynne died.

My whole life was ripped away. I clung to the nails, crop tops, and panties because they were familiar, comforting … all I had left. All that was left of me.

After being discarded, no one really looked at me.

But Emmett did. And he called me beautiful. He also let me call him daddy. No, he didn’t just let me; he liked it. My heart felt light. I’d grown accustomed to heaviness, the feeling of dragging it around like a dead appendage. More than once this morning, I caught myself reaching up to reassure myself it was still there. I’d feel it beating, and my cheeks would warm. A smile would tug at the corners of my lips. Maybe it did have some life left in it after all.

I was so distracted by my own thoughts and the way my body hummed from last night and this morning that I didn’t realize what I was walking into.

“Where’s Bodhi?” Rush questioned. “The bros said you went and got him. I expected him to be on the couch,”

“Don’t you boys have anything better to do than gossip?” Emmett groused.

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