Page 59 of Undeniable

I turned onto our street and the lone streetlight between our childhood homes did little to illuminate the road ahead. James was silent as we approached the house. He was so quiet that I thought he might’ve fallen asleep, and I didn’t want to think about how much harder it would be to get him inside if he passed out.

Lugging a fully grown man into the house, I was sure to wake someone else up.

But I peeked over at him only long enough to confirm he wasn’t actually asleep. With a vacant expression, he stared out the windshield. His change in demeanor and attitude was drastic from one second to the next, and I fought the urge to ask if he was okay.

I forgot how quickly James’s moods shifted when he was drunk. And the question I’d been trying not to consider since I got the phone call again shot to the front of my mind: why had he gotten drunk in the first place?

“I just want you to smile again.”

For a stunned second or two, I couldn’t respond. I barely even heard him speak over the roaring in my ears. And then, when I realized what he’d said, it took me another few seconds to process it.

I forced myself to swallow and awkwardly pulled the car into the driveway, shutting the lights off quickly before they could flash through my parents’ window at the front of the house.

“I smile,” I finally said in a small voice.

He chuckled and clarified, “At me. I wish you”—he took a breath like he was struggling with each word—“would smile at me.”

He didn’t hesitate before unbuckling his seat belt and pushing the door open. He kind of stumbled from the car, and I cursed under my breath as he slammed the door behind him. If we got to my room without waking anyone else in the house, I would consider it a miracle.

He’d made it halfway up the walkway before I was even out of the car, but luckily, I intercepted him at the front door.

“We can’t go that way,” I whispered as he reached for the door handle.

“Why? What are you talking about?” he argued, and I rolled my eyes as I removed his hand from the door.

I dropped his hand just as quickly.

“There’s about three people sleeping in the living room. If you touch that screen door, it’s going to wake everyone up.”

He made an unbelieving “pfft” noise, but I nudged him to start walking back down the stairs.

I stepped into the yard and veered to the right. As I headed around the house, I was relieved to hear the soft sound of his steps brushing through the grass. Since I moved out, my parents had added a planter bed of flowers beneath my old bedroom windows. The easiest window to climb in and out of was the one closest to the back of the house, which happened to be on the far side of my bed.

“Really?” James questioned as I tried to step around the flowers my mother had diligently planted and cared for like they were also her children. If we disturbed them, she would’ve known and I would’ve preferred no one besides me, James and Dylan know anything about me picking him up.

“Yes, really,” I mumbled and attempted to shimmy the window open. But I hadn’t had to climb in through my childhood bedroom window in… years, and I couldn’t remember how to do it. I wiggled the pane and tried to lift it, but the window wasn’t budging. I tried again, only wiggled it in a different direction, but still came up empty.

“Let me.”

Slowly, I turned to look at my drunk accomplice. He was more sober than he had been when I picked him up from the bar, but still not sober enough for me to believe he’d be any more successful than I was.

But as much as I didn’t want to ruin my mom’s flower beds—or break the damn window—I also knew it would be hilarious to watch him try.

“Fine. Go for it.” I hopped onto the grass and waved my hands toward the house.

James seemed shocked that I agreed so quickly, but he straightened and wiped the look off his face when he realized I was being serious. With more balance than I expected, he leaped over the flowers and steadied himself against the side of the house with both hands against the brick.

He shimmied between the bushes and the window and easily pried it open. He turned and threw me a wicked smile over his shoulder.

My heart stuttered at how easily he slipped that smile into place and how willingly he gave it to me.

I shook my head like I could shake off the feelings suddenly bearing down on me just as easily.

“I hate how easy you made that look.”

He shrugged. “Lots of practice. It’s pretty much muscle memory at this point.”

He motioned for me to enter first, but he was still a little drunk and I needed to make sure he was able to get in.

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