Page 43 of Stepbrother Dearest

“Try again.”

“Because I have a guilty conscience and don’t feel like dealing with the fallout if you did something stupid.”

“Well, you checked. Thank you and go away.”

“Wow, I got a thank-you without having to prompt for one? Did you hit your head again? Blink twice if they won’t let you talk to me.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

“Well, I think I’m hilarious. Can I come in?”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“No.”

“Whatever.” I spun around and stomped into the house. My knee didn’t appreciate my little display of anger, and I wobbled precariously as Caleb closed the front door behind him.

“Sit.” He pointed to the couch in the open living room.

“Why?”

“You’re worse than a toddler.” He stared at me, that stupid, neutral expression I hated on his annoying face. “Sit.”

Petulantly, I skulked over to the couch and flopped down.

“Feel better, Mr. Dramatic?” he asked.

“Don’t know. Do you feel better, Mr. Annoying?”

He knelt in front of me. “Just answer my questions and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

“Fine. But I still don’t get why you’re even here.”

He shrugged. “I have no fucking clue either. But I am.”

I bit my lip. As much as I wanted to kick Caleb out so I could go back to being pissed off, I didn’t hate that he cared enough to bother coming by.

“How have you been feeling?” His expression was still guarded, like he was waiting for me to snap at him again.

“Better.”

His eyes flickered with something, maybe surprise? “Are you still having symptoms from your concussion?”

“Not really. Using a screen for too long makes my eyes hurt, but no headaches or blurry vision or anything.”

“When was the last time you had any symptoms other than eye fatigue?”

“A few days ago.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “What about your knee?”

“It’s better too. Still hurts at the end of the day and it’s usually swollen in the mornings, but not like it was.”

“Can you lift your pantleg so I can see it?”

I did.

“It’s looking much better.” He traced his fingertips over the last of the bruises still dotting my skin. “What about the unsteadiness? I saw what happened at the door.”

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