Page 10 of Rear View
“Got any beer?”
I didn’t drink. Couldn’t afford to muddle my senses, but Zoya did imbibe from time to time. Popping the white, magnet-covered fridge open, I checked.
“We’ve only got pop, orange juice and water.”
“Water’s good.”
Grabbing some ice from the freezer, I filled a glass.
My phone pinged with a familiar text tone. I pulled it out.
Miles: You make it home, sis?
Me: Just got through the door.
He sent a thumbs-up emoji.
He was protective, and while I hated that my situation forced my younger brother to take on an older brother role, I did appreciate it. He’d pushed for me to move in with him and his friends when he’d first left home, but seeing how said friends were his teammates and, moreoften than not, were all either at practice or on the road for away games, it hadn’t made sense.
Me: Aren’t you at a game now?
Miles: Yeah. Coach is gonna have my balls if I’m not on the ice in two minutes. Peace!
I smiled, then sent off a text to Zoya.
Christian’s sable eyes looked tired when he chucked his phone on the aqua-painted coffee table before him. Face up, as if he was waiting for a call.
I headed his way and set his drink down. “Talk to me,” I said, taking the spot next to him. Even seated, I had to look up. He stood a good seven inches over me. There’d been a stretch when we were thirteen where I’d been taller, but the following summer, his growth spurt had hit, and I’d been memorizing the underside of his chin ever since.
“Is it okay if we don’t?” He hung his head and his dirty-blond hair fell forward. The sides were trimmed short, while the rest dusted his cheeks just below his eyes.
“It’s okay.” He never liked to talk about Chloe with me. Not that I was overly keen on it myself, but it might’ve helped me understand…something. Chloe knew about us and our past. He’d never told me her thoughts on it, but her face said enough, which was fair, because if he’d still been mine, I knew exactly where I’d have stood.
His hand grazed the outside of my thigh. “Thanks, R.J.”
My body heated. R.J., short for Ryah Jane. Linking my fingers with his, I smiled. I loved it when he calledme that. Mostly because he was the only one who did. It’d always been that way.
A grin tugged the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”
I squeezed his hand. “I’m right here.”
His eyes dropped to my lips. I froze, my heart doing a little somersault in my chest. Still, he was in a tough place, his relationship with Chloe in the gutter. I wanted him back. My social circle had whittled to practically nothing, so I couldn’t afford to lose him. But I needed him to be ready, to be done with her. To wantme.
He closed the distance between us, and his mouth met mine. I gasped. He kept coming and I collapsed back into the couch until he positioned himself between my legs.
“Christian.” I set my palms to his chest, nudging him away. “We can’t.” God, I’d wanted it. Needed it. But not like this. I wouldn’t be a rebound.
He drew back, gaze creased at the corners, his breath ragged. He blinked in rapid succession. “Shit, R.J.”
I lay there, wide-eyed and breathless, having no idea what to do.
His phone buzzed, vibrating, loud and obnoxious, against the table.
He went rigid, then sat up like he’d been doused in ice. “I, ugh. Sorry. I just need a minute.” Standing, he grabbed his phone and headed to the bathroom.
My stomach sank and a painful blush seared my cheeks. Sitting up, I combed my fingers through my hair to fix the mussed strands and tried not to look like I felt. Second choice. Unwanted. Alone.
He was gone several torturously long minutes before the bathroom door finally cracked open, the light spilling into the otherwise dark hall. He squeezed the backof his neck, his gaze darting from me to the door. “I’ve, um, gotta go.”
