Page 3 of Heartless Vows

“You did spy, didn’t you!”

I shrug again and bury my face in his pillow.

“Why’re you always spying on me? Get out of my room,” he demands as he shoves my shoulder a few more times.

“What if mamma comes looking for you?”

I sigh and force myself to sit up.

“For real, though, did I wake you up in the middle of the night again?”

The worry in his tone wipes away the last traces of sleep. I shake my head and push my hair back from my face.

“No, you didn’t wake me. I hadn’t gone to sleep yet.”

“Ari!” His little hand whacks my leg with enough force to sting. I hiss and rub the spot. “You need to go to bed earlier. You can’t get sick again.”

“What do you meanagain? You were only two the last time, so there’s no way you remember anything except what mamma told you. Stop letting her get to you.”

“Whatever! You were so pale and floppy when that man picked you up. I thought you were dead.”

My heart clenches. I hide my emotions behind a faux upset.

“Did you just call me floppy?”

His mouth flattens even as mirth glints in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

I flop onto my belly across his bed like an oversized rag doll, spreading my limbs and taking up as much space as I can. He pushes my arm off his lap. I dig my fingers into his side.

We devolve into chaos and giggles until his alarm rings. I stumble to my feet and toss his blanket back onto the bed.

“Alright! Playtime’s over. Get ready for tutoring,” I say, and chuck a pillow at his head when he groans.

“No complaining. I booked Mr. Hearthright every day this week.”

At my announcement, he perks up and catches the second pillow with ease.

“Will Adam and Taylor be there, too?”

I nod. His smile warms my soul.

“Thanks, big sis,” he says before bouncing into the bathroom.

Trusting him to get ready on his own, since he’ll basically be hanging out with his best friends and going on outlandish field trips with the eclectic and highly sought after private glorified babysitter every day for the next seven days, I slip into thehallway, lock his door behind me, and secure myself into my room before dropping the hair pins back into their jar.

With an unsettled sigh, I run my hands through my hair and walk into my bathroom.

I haven’t had an episode in six years, but I suppose if Tristan has night terrors about what happened when he was barely a week old, he could also remember seeing me faint. Guilt creeps through me. I’ll never let myself get so weak again. He shouldn’t have to worry about whether I can care for him.

With my resolve firmed, I change into gym clothes, tie my hair back, and slap on just enough makeup to appease my mother before tossing my purse into my duffle bag. I add a few extra protein bars into a side pocket and choose the least disgusting one for an early breakfast teaser and choke it down with half a bottle of water.

When my mother unlocks my door, I offer her my normal greeting. She eyes me with bleary contempt and shuffles down the hall without a word.

I wait until she slams her door behind her before I swing my duffle over my shoulder and scurry to Tristan’s room.

He bounces on the balls of his feet as I open his door.

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