Page 111 of Tempt

I sigh. “It wasn’t your fault. They chose to follow you all over the country. Same with their work—it was an excuse. They don’t like weakness. I think they were afraid it would rub off on them.”

“You’re a lot of things, Kat. Weak isn’t one of them.”

My eyes burn and he rubs a hand through my hair like we’re kids again.

He reaches for his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done a long time ago. Looking out for you.”

I grab the phone from his hand. “I don’t want your money, dumbass! I never did.”

His brows pull together as he tries to wrestle it back.

He wins, because he’s six-five and a professional athlete.

I’m five-eight and a professional lecture-sitter-inner.

But when we’re done, we’re both flat on our backs.

“All I wanted was you,” I grunt at the ceiling.

Clay huffs out a breath next to me. “Basketball was something I could focus on. Stick my head in the sand when shit got rough. I told myself it was the most important thing I could do. That it would help you in the long run if I made it pro, but now I’ve made it and you won’t let me help you.”

I roll onto my side to face him. “You left me. You weren’t there for me, and it hurt.”

His face contorts in profile. “I was selfish. College was rough—not like what you went through, but I had my own shit going on. I couldn’t fix you and I hated that. So I withdrew and focused more on my own stuff, the things I could control.”

My brother was a kid, too. I never asked what was going on for him.

I sit up and cross my legs. “I just wanted you there. Not because I needed saving, but I wanted my big brother next to me.”

He straightens and wraps me in his arms.

“I’m late, but I’m here now.”

I huff a breath against his shoulder. “You want to tell me what shit you were going through?”

“Some other time.”

I nod. We’ve got enough to talk about tonight.

“I’m still sending you money,” he murmurs. “You can burn it if you won’t spend it.”

“How can I burn a digital transfer?”

“You’d have to cash it first.”

I snort.

“Oh, and Mom liked the bracelet.”

“She texted me to say thanks. Did you get the Pandora or the Cartier?”

“Fuck if I know.”

I laugh until my shoulders rock and my stomach hurts.

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