Skye looks appropriately horrified as she calls out, “Violet?”
We glance at each other and rush for the stairs. She makes it to the spare room before I do. “Oh God. Oh, my God. She’s not here!” She runs into the room and throws open the bathroom door. “She’s not here! And there are condom wrappers on the floor! Oh God. Oh my God.” She spins around and grabs my arms. “Whereisshe? What did shedo?What did I let happen?”
“Maybe the used condom wrappers aren’t hers,” I say, unhelpfully.
“I don’t know if that’s better or not. Who was fucking in her bedroom then? And where is she? She hasn’t texted since last night at ten-thirty. She said she was coming back here. And I’ve heard nothing from her since! What if she was kidnapped?” Panic has clearly taken over. It’s understandable. Violet is a sweet, quirky, nerdy girl. At least at first. Once she’s comfortable, her sassy side shows, and she comes out with some stunning one-liners.
“Let’s check Miller’s room. Maybe he knows where she is.” He better know where she is, or he’s grounded for the rest of his goddamn life.
“Yes. Okay. Yes. Let’s do that.” Skye nods compulsively and follows me down the hall to my son’s room.
“Miller?” I knock twice. “I’m coming in.”
I throw open the door.
The smell is the first thing to register. It’s slightly sour, and definitely beer-y. It’s only partially masked by the cologne. Miller is passed out in his bed, the sheets mostly thrown off. They cover him from waist to knee.
There’s a body beside him. A small body. Although everyone looks small compared to my son. But this small body is also familiar. Horribly familiar.
“This isn’t happening.” Skye grabs my arm, nails digging into my skin. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” My blood pressure feels like it’s gone up a hundred points in the last five seconds.
If my son charmed my fiancée’s daughter into his bed, I’m going to lose my ever-loving shit. Loudly.
Miller rolls over onto his back and the sheets shift with him. He’s not wearing boxers. In fact, he’s not wearing anything.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE
Miller
A siren blares. No. Wait. It’s not a siren, someone is screaming my name. I blink a few times, but the brightness in the room, combined with the shouting, isn’t great. I have the wickedest headache. My brain feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise. It’s awful.
“Stop the yelling,” I mutter and try to put my pillow over my head, but it’s yanked out of my hands.
“Oh shit! Oh my God! My eyes!” Violet shrieks. The bed jostles and there’s a thud.
I blink a few times and glance toward the noise as Violet pops to her feet. She tosses a pillow at me, but it lands at my waist. She’s not wearing her glasses and her hair is a wreck.
Which is when I realize we’re in my bedroom and she just rolled out of my bed. And I’m completely naked.
“It’s not what it looks like!” Violet says.
“You were in bed together and Miller is naked!” Skye yells.
My head throbs at her volume.
“He wasn’t naked when we fell asleep. I swear! He was wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt,” Violet shrieks.
Her face has turned red and there are blotchy patches on her neck and collarbones.
I have no idea what the hell is going on. My memories of last night are hella vague. I remember Cliff boning his sometimes-girlfriend in Violet’s room. There may have been some weird shit going down. I also remember, vaguely, mentioning that Violet is forbidden fruit. Or something. Maybe that was in my head. I hope it was in my head. Unfortunately, it sounds like something I would say out loud, not on purpose.
As I slowly process the scene, I worry that I’m very wrong. Because I’m super naked and we’re in the same bed and I’m not sure how we got here. I vaguely remember a couple of my teammates making comments about Violet. I also remember two girls yammering on about stepbrother romance and how it never really goes out of style. I didn’t even know that was a thing, although in my defense, I typically avoid reading books because the words jump all over the fucking page on me.
I leave behind my confusing thoughts and tune back into what’s going on around me, mostly because my dad is blowing a gasket.