Page 2 of Sorrow

I lower the heat just a little and walk over to the door, pausing an extra few seconds before I open it. “Sorry, we don’t accept beggars.”

“Beggars?” he repeats in a growl, shoving his way inside so quickly I stumble backward. “Should have known it was you in charge of getting the door. You’ll be late to your own funeral.”

He bends closer and shakes his hair out like a dog, spraying water and ice crystals all over me.

I don’t care how hot he looks soaking wet, I still want to spit in his sloppy joe.

“Well, you’re about as welcome as a funeral, so that tracks.”

“Always a pleasure. Remind me why you’re still single? I can’t seem to remember.” His smile is venomous as he looks me up and down, eyes lingering on the hem of my shorts in a way that doesn’t match his expression. I knew I should’ve put sweats on, but I swear the room is already heating up. Probably all the hot air escaping his stupid mouth.

“Who said I’m single?” I counter. “Take your boots off before you track more mud all over the floor. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Itake the opportunity to shoulder-check him — well, I hit his side with my shoulder, the bastard is still a foot taller than me — and make my way back to the kitchen where I grab the buns.

It’s almost a shame they’re fresh.

Each clunk of his boots hitting the floor makes me blink, but I refuse to flinch. I refuse to show him he affects me at all.

“Are those sloppy joes?”

I feel him moving closer even though he’s hardly making a sound now, silent like a predator. “Yes.”

“Hm.” He opens and closes the fridge like he’s right at home and then speaks again. “AndIsaid you’re single. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be making sloppy joes for your older brother and his friend. You’d be out with him.”

“Not every night.” Fuck, there’s color rising to my cheeks and I hate it almost as much as the cold. “We just started talking.”

“What’s his name?”

I glance back to find him leaning against the counter with a beer in one hand and his eyes staring through me.

Like I’m not even here at all.

I don’t need to tell him anything.

Sucking my cheek between my teeth to keep my own mouth shut, I stir the slop and cut the heat.

His chuckle is all I hear before my idiotic brother joins us and grabs a beer of his own. “Dinner ready? I’m starv—”

“Samuel was just telling me about her new boyfriend. Have you met him?” Hayes cuts in, making me wish I could either sink into the floor or get away with flinging this scaling hot pan at his head.

“Boyfriend? She doesn’t have a fucking boyfriend. Wait,” Boo stops. “You talking about that football player you’ve been drooling over?”

Okay, maybe I’ll hithimwith the pan and hope it ricochets and hits his fuckwad friend, too. “Do you want food or not?” I snap.

“She’s really touchy about it.” I can hear the amusement laced in Hayes’ tone, only making me angrier. “Football player though, huh? You mean to tell me your little sister — lover of rocks — is trying to date a jock? Where is Rocky, by the way?”

If murder were legal, I’m pretty sure I could pull it off. We live in the middle of goddamn nowhere in a town so poor we don’t even have a welcome sign, and he has the nerve to make fun of me for collectingrocks as a kid. Maybe it’s a little weird that I named one and took it everywhere, but we didn’t exactly have any stuffed animal factories around. Some of the wealthier families got them, but not us. Never us.

Meeting his eyes, I scoop some of the sloppy joe mix onto a bun and hold his gaze as I slowly spit on it, slap the top on, and hand it over. “Rocky is still in my room, and I won’t let you make me feel bad about that. I made the best of a bad situation, and if you think there’s something wrong with that, you can go fuck yourself. I’m not a helpless little girl anymore.”

There’s a fire in his eyes that makes a chill spread up my spine, but to my surprise, he steps forward to take the plate out of my hand like nothing happened.

My brother didn’t seem to see what I did thanks to his cellphone, but that means he has no idea what his best friend is eating as he takes a huge bite without breaking eye contact. “Not bad,” he mumbles around it. “But I’ve had better.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Boo responds with a sigh. “Just say thank you.”

He has no idea Hayes was talking about my fucking spit. I’m completely speechless as he takes yet another bite before he mumbles, “Thank you,” and walks away to the living room.

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