Page 184 of Things Left Unsaid

I jerk forward, nearly toppling off the step until Callan saves me, shoving a hand over my mouth to soften my yell. He’s so smooth it’s criminal for a geeky eighteen-year-old.

I relax though, watching as he settles on the step beside me once he lets go and has assured himself I’m safe.

“They’re talking about me,” I whisper.

“What’s Cody doing here?”

“Got into some kind of accident.”

Callan rolls his eyes. “Dumbass.”

Because the insult is a throwaway—panic flickers in his eyes—I tut. “I thought I told you to quit it with the attitude around me. You can be yourself.”

He huffs.

“You can,” I assure him. “I won’t judge you for it. You’re allowed to be scared for your brother.”

His nod is all the answer I know I’ll get out of him.

When I tune into the conversation in the kitchen, they’re still talking about Arwen and Jasmine.

“Jasmine’s pure white,” Callan explains. “A Camarillo.” He tugs on my hair. “Your coloring’ll fit.” Then, his gaze turns disapproving. “Not that your sweater and jeans will.”

“I’m not the most beautiful last-gen High Elf Middle-earth has ever seen.”

Callan grumbles, “Trust you to have read the books.”

“You haven’t?”

“I’m not into that stuff. I like steampunk. Duh. You should know that already.”

“I did but I figured Colt would have read it to you as a bedtime story.”

He hunches his shoulders. “He started to but it gave me nightmares.”

I pat his hunched shoulder. “You might enjoy them now. Though I’m not getting dressed up in a big white gown to cosplay Arwen!”

The teasing eases his discomfort. “You could at least wear a white sweater.”

“I have one but it’s not warm enough for the weather.” I nudge him with my elbow and lift my finger to my mouth when the brothers stop bitching aboutTheLord of the Rings.

“Less of the Tolkien,” Cody grouses. “It’s not like I’m about to have more time on my hands to do a deep dive. And more importantly, what are you going to do about her?”

“Sounds ominous,” Callan whispers.

“No, he’s on the same offensive as you are.” I shoot him a knowing look, watching him flush at the jig being up, though he still goes for broke.

“I’m not on any offensive.”

“Matchmaking wasn’t on your to-do list?”

Before he can answer, Colt does. “Not much I can do. I gave her time to settle in here. She has to figure out she’s not a McAllister anymore. She’s a Korhonen.”

“Thatsounds ominous,” I mumble.

Callan shakes his head. “Comes with perks.”

“Doubtful. For you, yes. Not for me.”

---