Page 46 of Getting It Twisted

“We’ll handle it,” I call after her as she heads to a car down the road.

Jessie awaits us in the hallway. Her jumper is splattered with blood, but aside from that, she looks the same as she always does. She smiles at me with her big, bright eyes.

“Danio!”

I lean down to hug her. Her shoulder blades are sharp, her body thin as a rail, but she’s warm, and she’s happy, and she’s safe.

She gasps as soon as she sees Nathan behind me, and she starts vibrating in her wheelchair with pure giddiness, giggling as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

“Danio, Nathan’s here. Nathan’s here!”

Nathan swoops down to her eye level and cups her cheeks with both hands. “Yeah, little Jess. I’m here.” He smiles a fond smile. “Gee, look at you. You’re getting cuter and cuter by the day.”

Jessie stretches her arms out and runs her hands through his hair. He lets her do it, not withdrawing even when her fumbling fingers almost poke his eyes out.

Spellbound, I find myself staring at them, and memories flood my brain.

Whenever she found out I had Nathan in my room, my sister would wheel herself in with a Lego set and ask him to play with her. I remember her shy smile when he paid attention to her, played with her, showed her magic tricks, and talked to her asif there was nothing in the world amiss with her. With him, she could feel like a regular girl.

I didn’t blame her back then for her infatuation, and I don’t blame her now. This side of Nathan—this soft and affectionate selflessness—hits me hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs.

They turn to me with equally sunny smiles, and I clear my throat.

“Breakfast, everyone?”

We set to work. While Nathan helps Jessie find a new jumper, I clean the kitchen and fry the half-abandoned scrambled eggs. With more care and a sharper knife, I even cut up the watermelon that was the culprit of my mother’s injury, and we gather at the kitchen table.

Nathan steals little glances at me as we eat. I’m used to the jolt of heady attraction when his gaze meets mine, but this jittery, exhilarated feeling is entirely new. Does he feel it too? Or is he just elated that he finally managed to win me over? That he managed to get me to fuck him?

“’Taying,” Jessie mumbles around a mouthful of eggs.

“Yeah, sis?” I ask, wiping her mouth.

“Staying. Is Nathan staying?”

Oh. Staying as in staying in town?

I turn to him, and he leans an elbow on the table and cradles his cheek in one hand. His green eyes twinkle as he chews his last bite of food, but other than that, his expression gives nothing away.

My voice is distant and distracted when I tell my sister, “I don’t know.”

Until recently, I didn’t even entertain the option, and it certainly wasn’t something I wanted. I wanted him to leave as soon as possible and save the destruction of my heart and my sanity.

But now I’m not so sure.

He vanished from my life once. Can I dare hope he’ll stay for good this time? Do I evenwanthim to stay?

After breakfast, I wheel Jessie into the living room and put her favorite nineties sitcom on the TV.

The laundry room is next. Nathan jumps onto the counter beside the washing machine and dangles his legs off the edge like a child.

I load the machine, almost too distracted to remember how to put it on. I feel his heated gaze on me, the magnetic pull of him.

“We done?” he asks, and I figure I’ve been patient enough.

I shift between his legs and glance down at his mouth. He looks at me hungrily, tongue darting out to wet his lips, hands curling into the back of my shirt. I lean in, and his lips part against mine. Our tongues meet, the kiss growing hot, sultry, and desperate. He wraps his legs around my hips and his arms around my shoulders.

I pull back. “Is this okay?”

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