Page 21 of Fool Me Once

In true Storm form, he stays right next to me.

Although he looks scary, he’s much more nervous than he is mean. I can see why he’s afraid, considering what the lady at the Humane Society told me about the horrendous things he’d endured before I adopted him. But he trusts me. And since day one of him being with me, I trust him too.

Gemma wasn’t joking when she said she only had a bag to bring with her to my house. And as I watch as she follows my sister up the stairs and onto the porch with her one bag in hand, my heart fucking hurts.

She lived in California for years. Why is one bag all she has to show for it?

She’s on the run, and I know it. But she’s safe now, here with me. And if anyone tries to harm her, she’ll never have to fear them because they’ll be too dead to hurt her ever again.

My sister is crying, and though Gemma is doing her best to keep it all in—I’m sure it’s to not make my sister feel bad for leaving—sadness fills every inch of her face.

“Hey, Stormy,” Saylor says.

Storm wags his tail but remains next to me, eyeing Gemma.

Holding my hand out, I try to take her bag from her to set it in the house. At first, she only tightens her grip, not wanting to let me help her, but eventually, she hands it off.

I glance out at my sister’s small SUV, which is loaded down with boxes and totes. She works hard, but living on her own in downtownPortland isn’t cheap. So, after paying her rent and utilities, she didn’t have much left for a reliable car.

“I gotta show you something in the garage,” I say before stepping out onto the porch with Storm staying at my side. “Come on.”

As we walk down the porch steps and over to the outside entrance of my attached garage, I look back at my sister as I push the door open, wanting to see her face when she looks at what’s inside. A white Range Rover with a huge-ass pink ribbon on top.

Her hands fly to her mouth, and her eyes grow as wide as saucers. “Wait … what?” Saylor whispers. “What is—”

“It’s your going-away present since I’m happy you’re moving to another state and away from me,” I say with a shrug. “I’m joking. I’m proud of you for taking a chance and moving to South Carolina to save more people’s lives, Sails.”

The truth is, I wish I were more like my sister. Being a nurse is what makes up every fiber of her being. When a holiday needs to be worked, she’s the hospital’s girl. If someone is sick and needs their shift covered, they know they can call Saylor.

She was made to be a nurse.

She throws her arms around me, weeping loudly. “Are you serious, Smith?” Her voice is muffled against my shoulder. “You got me my dream car?”

“It’ll get you out of Maine quicker than your piece of shit,” I mumble before hugging her back. “Let’s get your shit moved from your car into this one so you can hit the road.”

“What’s going to happen to this car?” she says, looking back at it sadly.

“Dad is going to pick it up sometime when he passes through.” I chuckle, knowing my dad will probably fix it up and keep it for some odd reason because that’s how he is.

Giving me another hug, she releases me and wipes her cheeks. She looks behind me at Gemma. “Can you believe this?” She sniffles, darting her eyes back to mine. “And all this time, I called you an asshole. I take back all those awful things I said.”

“Wow, unreal,” I scoff.

“It’s gorgeous, Sails,” Gemma says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “If anyone deserves their dream ride, it’s you.”

Truth be told, I wanted to get Gemma a car too. I’ve noticed she’s driven with my sister everywhere, and I haven’t seen another car at my sister’s apartment. I know Gemma too well though, and she likes independence. Not to mention, she still fucking hates me. If I got her a car, she’d probably set it on fire. So, instead, I decided I’d slowly convince her to use my other truck. What the fuck do I need two for anyway?

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Saylor says, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Let’s get this bitch loaded up!”

With Storm hot on my heels, I follow Smith through his house, trying to nonchalantly check everything out because it’s stunning. It has a real rustic farmhouse feel, which makes me a little annoyed because it was always me who said I wanted a modern farmhouse one day, not him.

“There are three spare bedrooms, and I had beds and furniture delivered for all of them, so you can pick whichever one you like.” He stops at the first one, keeping my bag in his hand. “And behind door number one,” he says cheesily, stepping just inside the door.

Suddenly, Storm rushes around me to be closer to him.

“They all have their own bathroom, but this one also has a Jacuzzi tub. So, there’s that,” he states. It doesn’t come off like he’s bragging, but more just trying to give me all the details to help me make the right choice. “The other two have huge walk-in showers though.”

“I’ve never been much of a bath girl.” I shrug. “Showers are better.”

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