Page 43 of The Bonds We Break
My sister raises her eyebrows at me. I fold my arms and lean against the counter. “Cupboard on the back wall.”
It takes a moment. “Got it,” Rae yells.
“You brought one of the club girls home to do your laundry?” Gwen whispers. “Jesus, Uther. Wash your own freaking underwear.”
She’s not really mad. But if I told her the truth, she’d kick my ass.
I tip my chin to the door. “Can’t do lunch, but I’ll call you later to make plans, yeah?”
Gwen bundles the scarf back around her neck. “Sure thing.” She pecks me on the cheeks, then glances toward the hallway. “Be nice to her.”
I playfully push her to the door. “Go.”
She raises her hands. “I’m gone.”
As the door slams, Rae steps into the kitchen. “Was someone here?” she asks.
“It was no one.” I continue putting away the groceries, but Rae steps into my space, puts her fingertip to my cheek, and swipes.
When she holds it up to me, there’s lipstick on her finger.
I use the back of my hand to wipe my cheek. “Relax, Rae. It was my sister asking if I wanted to have lunch.”
Rae sighs but then braces her shoulders. “It’s none of my business.”
“You’re right. It’s not.”
She turns and heads back to the hall.
“Rae, wait. Fuck. I just didn’t want anyone to know you’re here until after I’ve spoken to your brother.”
Rae doesn’t turn around. I’m mad for a minute that Saint stands between us. I don’t want Rae to be mad at me. So I step up behind her, place my hands on her shoulders, and massage her tense muscles like she massaged mine. “Don’t ...”
Don’t what?
Don’t lose the spine, the nerve you’ve had?
Don’t give up on me because you’re fast becoming a soft place to land?
“Don’t what, King?” Her words sound tired.
“Don’t be mad at me.”
She spins to face me. “Then stop giving me reasons.”
Her cheeks are pink, her lips pursed, and I can’t help but lean in and kiss them.
“I have an idea. Can I trust you not to leave?”
“Given you might kill my brother if I do, yes, you can trust me not to leave.” I hate the bite in her tone.
“I’ll be back in half an hour.”
It takes me a little longer to grab what I need from the store, but it guarantees Rae will be cute as fuck and, more importantly, safe.
When I come back, she’s in the living room, napping on the too-large sofa I bought the previous month without measuring the space. “Rae,” I say, giving her a shake.
She gasps as she wakes. “What time is it?”
