Page 47 of Take It Offline

It doesn’t feel simple, but there he is, with determination in his eyes, and goddamn if it isn’t enough to make me hope.

CHAPTER 17

SISTER KNOWS BEST

CHARLIE

Isay yes. Of course I say yes. I’m a masochist, apparently, and when it comes to Emma, I’ll take every scrap I can.

“You need to be careful.”

Reese unclips Ziggy’s lead, jingling like Santa’s sleigh as she follows me into the kitchen. Pants with pockets at the knees should be illegal, but she refuses to throw them out no matter how often I’ve threatened her with breaking in and doing her the favor of burning them. At least she’s got my good taste in music.

I take the lead from her and place it on the counter. Meanwhile, the Mastiff-German Shepherd pup has already located the dog bed and toys I keep here for doggie sleepovers like this.

“Calm down, Sally Jessy Raphael. I’ll be fine.”

There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.

The key to not getting hurt? Not needing anyone. And since Emma’s only asking me because she hates me so much, I doubt it’ll be a problem.

Maybe there’s something funky in my DNA, but Emma’s anger only makes her hotter. There’s brimstone in her green eyes when she gets riled up, and if there’s one thing I’m happy to be, it’s a sinner.

I’ll eagerly enter every circle of her hell.

“It’ll get messy,” Reese says.

“It can’t. She hates me.”

She levels me with a look. “Maybe if you stopped being such a jackass to her, she’d stop saying that. If you let her see the real you?—”

Here we go again.

“Then she’d realize that you’re nothing but a giant teddy bear.”

Right. There’s a higher chance of Hollywood releasing a decent remake.

“It wouldn’t matter. She’s only doing this to get her ex back. I’m just the practice run.”

“I don’t buy it.” Reese frowns. “No way she doesn’t like you a little bit.”

It sure felt like it when we kissed. But going down that road is bound for disaster. I’m already cruising down shit highway without a map. Hoping for more would be like cutting my own damn brakes as well.

There’s only so much self-destruction I can take.

Reese casts a critical eye over the bare spaces of my apartment. “Seriously, Charlie, it’s been two years. I don’t care how you do it, but if you don’t at least get a fake plant in here by my birthday, I’m buying you every Funko pop in existence.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Even bicycle girl,” she threatens.

Over my cold, dead body. Reese and her odd fascination with zombie movies. Ghosts, she doesn’t fuck with, but apparently cannibalistic dead people are A-okay.

“You’re a monster,” I joke, though as I watch Ziggy sniff around the vast nothingness, I can admit that she’s not exactly wrong.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Should I even ask why you’re doing this to yourself?”

“What’s the problem if we both get what we want?” I rummage around the kitchen for dog food so I don’t have to look at the judgment on Reese’s face. “Get in, get out, and no one gets hurt. I’m a man of limited skill, but this is one of them. I know what I’m getting myself into.”

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