Page 46 of The Forbidden Note

Grace Freaking Jamieson.

Tiger.

My teacher.

My step-sister.

My freaking obsession.

I wish we’d never met.

And I wish she was better at hiding her feelings.

She doesn’t hate me.

Damn, I wish she did.

That would make this a little easier.

She says one thing with her mouth, but those pretty eyes beg for me to bend her over the teacher’s desk and show her what inappropriate behaviour really is.

It’s impossible to move on when she pushes and pulls like that.

My calves are burning. Slamming my foot against the pedal, I crash my sticks into the cymbals. The gold plates vibrate and suspend the sound.

Two shadows slip into the garage.

I stop, both sticks raised in mid-air. My foot leaves the pedal and I quickly clip the cymbals between my thumb and forefinger, killing the metallic resonance.

Dutch drags his guitar over his head with practiced ease. His eyes—hazel mirrors of mine—flash on me. “Keep going like that and you’re going to need a new snare.”

“The music store keeps extra just for him,” Finn says.

I stare at my brothers. “What are you doing here?”

“We heard your cry for help from across town.” Dutch nods at my drum set.

I frown at him.

He strums his guitar. A throaty C chord rings through the amp. “I wanted to get an update on the funeral arrangements. Cadey kept asking me.”

“You haven’t told her I’m the one planning it?”

Dutch glowers.

I scoff and run a hand through my wet hair. Sweat droplets fling all over my set. “Am I that freaking unreliable?”

My brother is wise enough not to answer that.

Finn eyes me. “You been drinking?”

“No,” I snap.

Dutch plays an intricate melody on the low notes. Neck craned toward his guitar, he asks casually. “Who did you take to the funeral parlor today?”

I stiffen.

“On the phone, you said ‘us’. Meaning there was more than just you.”

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