Page 110 of Can't Always Get What You Want

“Hey,” I say, trying to smooth my expression, pretending to be thrilled by his call.

“Hey yourself!” Gio greets, his face filling the screen—sweaty, slightly flushed, definitely post-workout in that fancy gym he has in his new house. “What are you up to?”

“Not much.” I certainly can’t tell him I only just walked through the door. Except my brother is perceptive, eyes scanning the front of me with hawk-like precision.

“Is that the same sweatshirt you had on last night at the game?”

I glance down at it. “Is it?” Huh. Weird.

Gio narrows his eyes. “Nova.”

“What?”

“That’s the same hoodie you had on last night.”

“Rude. Haven’t you ever heard of fashion sustainability?”

He gives me a look—the kind only a brother can deliver. Equal parts suspicion, judgment, and begrudging amusement.

“You didn’t come home last night.” It’s a statement not a question.

“That’s an assumption,” I say, tugging the hoodie sleeves over my hands self-consciously, as if I can hide.

My brother stares me down. “You ghosted after the game. Didn’t answer my text. And now here you are, looking like you just crawled home.”

“Since when is it a crime to come home and go straight to bed? I didn’t see that you texted until I woke up.”

“It’s eleven o’clock!” He looks appalled.

“Ugh—why are you shouting at me?”

“I’m not shouting,” Gio argues, absolutely shouting. “I’m concerned!”

“Concerned about what? Me wearing a hoodie two days in a row? You are not my dad. I’m fine.”

“I was worried when you didn’t text me back! Cut me some slack. Like I’m not supposed to freak out when you ghost —”

HE IS SO ANNOYING!

“For the love of God, Gio, I didn’t ghost you! I was?—”

I stop myself from finishing that sentence because what am I supposed to say?

I was at your teammate’s house.

In his bed.

That I fell asleep curled into Luca Babineaux and woke up already missing him and I hadn’t even left yet.

Guilt flares white-hot in my chest. I don’t knowwhyI feelguilty—technically, I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m a grown adult. I didn’t sign a contract that said I’d run my social life by my overprotective brother.

But it doesn’t matter.

Gio trusts me.

“I just crashed, okay?” I say, sharper than I intend. “I got home late. I was tired. I didn’t check my phone so keep it down and stop yelling.”

A blur of movement cuts into the screen and Austin enters the frame holding baby Vivi on her hip, the baby’s curls sticking out in every direction as if she’s been electrocuted by naptime.

---