Page 10 of Better Watch Out

“What thefuck, Dad?” I shriek, finally pushing off of the fridge. I whistle to Sitka, grabbing Dad’s keys out of the small bowl in the hallway. “No, they didn’t. You act like you know who it is. I swear if you sent me some weird four am, singing Christmas telegram, then I’m going to flip my shit. And I will never, ever?—”

“I lied to you before.”Dad’s words are hesitant, and the guilt in them brings me to a halt near the couch. “I just thought…Well, I figured they hadn’t been able to make it there before the storm hit. But Cheryl heard from them yesterday saying that might not be the case.”

My heart sinks with his every word, and I find I can’t move even if I want to. “Dad…” My voice is a whining whisper. “You fucking promised it would be just us.”

“I know I did. But honey, you really just need to learn to forgive them. Fletch and Boone are your brothers. They adore you, and they miss you. I thought it would be a nice holiday gift for all of us to get back together. To be a family again.”His tone turns pleading, but I don’t want to hear it.

“You’re the worst.” I close my eyes, feeling like the floor is falling out from under me. “You really are, you know? All I asked—” I cut myself off, feeling the burn of tears in my eyes. “Whatever. It really doesn’t matter. Whether it was them or stalkers or poachers or a singing holiday gram, I’m out. I’m so fucking done with this.” A quick, low whistle calls Sitka to me, and I stride toward the door as my anger burns my throat.

“I really can’t believe you’d do this to me.” I feel like crying. “And then not to warn me?”

“Honey—”

“No.Absolutely not.This is why I left, Dad. This is why I haven’t been back in years. Because this is what you do.” The front door looms in front of me, a portal to my escape. I don’t care what it takes, but I am getting out of these damn mountains and goinghome. And of course blocking all of my family from all sources of contact.

“Just listen to me for a sec, Conor. I’m just trying to tell you they just texted me?—”

“Good for them,” I hiss, reaching out and grabbing the doorknob. It takes me a moment to unlock it, but when I do, I let out a huff. “You can tell them that they can just—” I yank the door open hard, only to find my path blocked by a hooded, jacketed figure leaning easily against the doorframe.

Putting his hood down, Fletcher grins at me, blue eyes glittering. “What did you want to tell us, Conor?” he asks, looking oh-so-happy with himself. “Because I’d rather you tell us in person, since we’re here and all. No need to go through your dad this time.”

CHAPTER SIX

Time seems to stand still, though some part of my mind that’s detached from the situation can’t help but appreciate the way Fletcher has grown up. The last time I saw him, I was seventeen and he was nineteen. He’d still had a bit of a babyface back then.

But that’s gone now.

Blue eyes glimmer under tousled, dark blond hair. He looks as if he hasn’t shaved in a few days, but I think he looks good like this, rather than cleanly shaven. It certainly doesn’t take away from the sharp angles of his jaw one bit. He tilts his chin to stare down at me, scrutinizing me in the same way I’m scrutinizing him.

“Give me the phone,” he murmurs in that soft, velvety voice I remember all too well. “Let me tell your dad not to worry.”

In response my fingers tighten over my phone, but I can’t say anything. Ican’t, with my throat blocked by trepidation and my heart trying to evacuate my body through any means necessary. “No,” I mouth finally, jerking backward.

Fletcher just rolls his eyes and reaches out, grabbing the front of my hoodie and dragging me to him as he steps in the door. Before I can make a sound he presses a finger to his lips,likeI’mthe problem, and then reaches out to yank my phone out of my grip.

But he still doesn’t let go of me. His fingers hold the front of my hoodie tightly even as I dig my fingers into his wrist, though for some reason I don’t make a noise. Not with his eyes on mine the way they are now, in warning and promise.

“Hey, John.” His greeting is smooth as he puts my phone to his ear, and he uses his foot to softly kick the front door closed until it clicks. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. We really didn’t mean to freak out Conor.” He pauses, probably to give my dad time to say something, and chuckles. “Yeah, she was telling the truth. We were out back because we got here so early and didn’t want to wake her up. The whole scaring her thing was incredibly unintentional.”

He’s lying.

I realize that instantly when I think about them, about yesterday on the trail, and Iknowthey’ve been here for longer than he’s admitting to. I shift on the balls of my feet, but I only bite my lip instead of saying anything. I have a feeling Fletcher will make me regret it if I do.

“It was a close call. Barely made it in the truck before the snow really hit.” He adjusts his grip, acting as if he doesn’t notice the way my nails are digging into his wrist. Ithasto hurt, but he’s not even flinching. “Anyway, she’s all good. She’s helping Boone with the back door right now. Yeah, still sticking. I’ll have her call you in the morning? She seems pretty worn out so I’m hoping to convince her to get a few more hours of sleep.” Another pause, and he chuckles amicably. “Thanks. Sorry again for waking you.”

With that he hangs up, pocketing my phone with casual, unhurried movements.

“Let go of me!” I snap, yanking on his wrist. Fletcher blinks that slow, lazy blink of his that tells me how bored he is ofwhatever I’m saying. But to my surprise he lets go, allowing me to whirl around in an attempt to create distance between us.

Though as soon as my feet hit the tile of the kitchen, Boone rounds the corner, causing me to slam into his chest. A yelp leaves me, and when I stumble, I’m sure I’ll hit the floor on my ass from the force of my hurried movements. Except, I don’t. Instead, Boone wraps an arm around my waist, letting out a low huff.

“God, you’re dramatic,” he mutters. “Fletch, you were right. She basically hasnothingto eat. And all our shit from last time’s gone.” When I try to yank away from my stepbrother, he only holds me tighter, and my snarl draws his gaze down to me.

I really wish I hadn’t come up here.

Boone gazes at me before hitching a grin on his full lips, his dark-brown eyes just as dark as I remember under his tousled, thick brown hair. “Well, I see you haven’t gotten any taller,” he remarks, reaching up to tap my jaw with one long finger. I slap his hand away with a sneer, then shove away from him as hard as I can.

Unexpectedly, he lets me go, sending me sprawling back onto the hardwood floor on my ass. “You’re such a jerk,” I snarl, hands braced on the wood under me as I bring up my knees to get to my feet.

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