R
afe’s words still ring in my ears as I sit at home in the dark. Even though my name’s on the title, the place feels so much more foreign than a hotel. The shades are drawn, I’ve got a beer in my hand, and my thoughts are still back on a woman I should let go but just can’t.
I’ve made a career living on gut instinct, and my instinct is telling me that something is off here. But isn’t that the same feeling I’ve had since day one when it comes to Beaux?
I ignore the knock on the front door. The only people who know I’ve touched down on U.S. soil besides those at work are Rylee and my parents. And I bit the bullet and saw my parents yesterday, faked my way through why I came home, blamed it on needing some recovery time – because let’s face it, you don’t really tell your parents who have been together since they were in their early teens that you fell in love with a married woman. It’s not exactly a crowning moment of their parenthood regardless of whether I knew she was married or not.
So the persistent knock on the door has to be Rylee. And of course if it is her, she will have driven the two hours south from Los Angeles to San Diego, so that means she won’t go away easily.
Besides, she has a key.
I sink back farther into the couch and close my eyes only to immediately open them because damn it to hell, Beaux’s there too. She’s fucking everywhere. And nowhere.
The rattle of a key in the lock tells me I was correct in my assumption about the visitor’s identity. “Tan?”
“In here,” I say, not eager for company.
“You becoming a vampire or something?” she asks at the same time as blinds start opening in my kitchen and the telltale sounds of the ocean crashing on the cliffs below filter in once she’s opened the windows.
“I hear it’s all the rage these days,” I snort as she snaps open the blinds in the family room where I sit, causing me to wince at the brightness even through my closed eyelids. I track her movements through sound, know she plops on the love seat catty-corner to me by the squeak of the leather, and then feel the weight of her stare as she waits me out. I don’t budge.
“You look like shit.”
“Thank you,” I say with a nod, finally opening my eyes and meeting hers, which are identical to mine in their amethyst color. And shit, she’s my sister and I’m in a crappy mood, but it doesn’t stop me from shaking my head at how beautiful she is. She always has been, but since she married Colton, she has this newfound confidence that makes her radiate. It’s cool to see on her and frustrating as fuck to me all at once, because it makes me remember what I’ve recently lost.
“Well that’s sugarcoating it, but I thought I wouldn’t kick you while you were down.” There’s humor in her voice as she rises from her seat and sits down next to me and cuddles into my side so that she can rest her head on my arm. It’s a simple gesture, but just feeling her here next to me makes the emotions well up in my throat. She reaches out and pats the top of my thigh. “So how are you doing? I mean you at least have pants on… That’s a good sign. Colton told me that if you were sulking in your underwear, I should just back out quietly and let you be.”
“He’s got that about right. Good thing I got up a few hours ago and pulled some jeans on.” She laughs low and rich, a sound from my childhood that brings back so many memories of backyard forts and riding bikes until the streetlights came on.
“So talk to me. Tell me where your head’s at, what’s going on… I’m here to listen and shut my mouth.”
I snort. “That’s pretty comical. You? Quiet?”