Page 45 of Forbidden Hearts
She shrugs. “All of that is true.”
“Right, so it was wrong. If that alarm didn’t . . .” I run my hand through my hair. “It won’t happen again.”
If I say it enough, maybe I’ll believe it.
“That’s what I wanted to say. I don’t know what happened, but it’s clear we weren’t thinking. I like hanging out with Olivia and helping her with things. I don’t want to screw this up.”
“So, we agree that was a mistake?”
Her pouty lips form into a fake smile. “It was a mistake. Good night, Asher.”
I turn the handle, opening my door. “Good night, Phoebe.” I step inside and close the door on her and any feelings I had.
* * *
“Why the hell are you so grumpy?” Brynn asks as she sits across from me at Sugarlips. “Is it because Magnolia keeps giving you come-fuck-me eyes?”
I hadn’t even noticed she’d come to the table. All I keep thinking about is how bad I fucked up by touching Phoebe.
We managed to avoid each other this morning, which probably had a lot to do with my leaving at four in the morning. Not a chance in hell I was going to try for small talk. I worked out for three hours at the gym, sweating and pushing myself to the limit.
All was going well on shift until my sister showed up, reminding me we had a lunch date before her trial this afternoon.
“I’m not grumpy.”
“And what, my darling brother, do we call this . . . attitude?”
“Tired.”
Which is true. I didn’t sleep for shit last night, and if I am grumpy, it’s from lack of sleep.
Brynn swirls her spoon in her coffee. “If you say so.”
She doesn’t deserve my attitude. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to you and the other two being asshats.”
No lies there. “Let’s start over. You wanted to have lunch because?”
She leans back, her hands go to her lap, and she sighs deeply. It’s basically her go-to posture when she’s being evasive, or she’s uncomfortable.
This is going to piss me off, I know it.
“I heard from my biological father three days ago.”
Yup. Right over the edge.
“What did he want?”
Money if history proves correct. Rowan, Grady, and I all have the same father, who was our mom’s first husband. She had us pretty much back-to-back, but he decided that life was too short for kids and left. Brynlee’s dad was her fourth husband, who was the worst of all of them.
“He said he’s clean now and wanted to talk.”
My sister doesn’t need my attitude, but I am struggling to keep my mouth shut. “Howie doesn’t usually just want to talk.”
She places her clasped hands on the table. “He needs a liver transplant.”
And there it is. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
