“Open it,” he ordered, knowing that I had the key.
I tipped my chin up and tried to calm my racing heart. “No,” I answered calmly.
“Easton.” His jaw flexed. “Open it.”
I looked away. How the hell had he known something was in there?
My eyes burned, and I blinked long and hard. I can’t open the box. I wouldn’t. It hadn’t been opened in five years, and this was none of my brother’s business.
“No.”
He stared at me, shaking his head, probably not knowing what to do.
He walked over, speaking quietly. “You keep the past too close. You’re not moving on.” His eyes searched my face, almost pleading. “I don’t know what’s in there, but I know it’s too heavy a weight for you to carry around with you. You’re twenty-three. You say you’re a woman, but you still live within the lines as if you were a child.” He dropped his eyes, whispering in a shaky voice, “You don’t step out of the box, Easton.”
I let out a breath and turned, walking back to my popcorn. “That’s not true.”
“Do you have any friends?” he challenged, following me. “Who was the last person to make you laugh? When was the last time you went to bed with someone more than once?”
I ground my teeth together, picking up the snacks and walking back to the living room.
But Jack kept pressing, “Has anyone other than me ever been in this apartment?” he asked.
I slammed my food down on the coffee table and picked up the remote.
“I’m tired of seeing you alone,” he burst out. “I’m ready to burn this fucking place down and everything in it, so you’re forced to leave the safety of your little shell!”
“Ugh!” I grabbed a handful of popcorn and flung it at him, the popped kernels hitting his face.
He jerked back, struck dumb by what I’d done.
Dropping his gaze, he arched an eyebrow, looking down at the white puffs on the floor.
I snorted, trying to contain my laugh, and he couldn’t keep from smiling either, as he looked up at me.
“Ask me how old you are again,” he grumbled. “I think I’d like to change my answer.”
He brushed off crumbs from his shirt as I kept laughing.
But then we both jerked, a knock on the front door catching our attention.
Jack looked to me, a question in his eyes, but I shrugged. I had no idea who would be knocking on my door. He was right, after all. I had no friends.
I walked into the hallway, my bare feet quiet against the hardwood floor.
“Who is it?” I called, leaning up on my tiptoes to see into the peephole.
And my stomach instantly dropped. I fell away from the door, landing back on the heels of my feet.
What the hell?
“Easton?” he called through the door. “It’s Tyler Marek.”
I pinched my eyebrows together and shot up, peeping through the hole again.
How does he know where I live?
He was still dressed in the same suit from today, although his tie was loosened and his hair was wet, probably due to the rain. His head was cast downward as he waited, and I dropped to my feet again, realizing I was breathing a mile a minute.
I couldn’t have a parent from school at my house. What did he think he was doing?
I unlocked the dead bolts and chain but opened the door only enough to fit my body between it and the frame.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded. “This is my home.”
He leaned a hand against the door frame and raised his eyebrows, a cocky smile dancing across his face.
“I made you come on a desk this morning,” he pointed out. “I can’t stop by your house?”
A snort that turned into a quiet laugh escaped from behind me, and I peeked over my shoulder to see my brother leaning against the frame between the living room and the entryway, smiling.
“Is someone here?” Tyler stood up straight, narrowing his eyes on me.
I inhaled a deep breath. “What do you want?” I asked, getting to the point.
He pushed his wet hair back over the top of his forehead and stuck his other hand in his pocket, all of a sudden looking nervous.
He cleared his throat, raising his hesitant gaze up to mine. “I want to apologize.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t worry, Mr. Marek. This morning is our little secret. Just go away.”
I moved to close the door, but he shot out his hand, keeping it open.
“Easton,” he called out, sounding unusually gentle. “I should never have been rough with you today, and I’m sorry.”
Rough with me?
I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “Why?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you sorry?” I demanded, forgetting my brother standing nearby.
Tyler Marek was never gentle, and I’d never given him the impression that I had a problem with that. Why did he suddenly feel bad?
He opened his mouth, looking like he wasn’t sure what to say. “I…” He cleared his throat again. “I just don’t feel like I’ve treated you as well as you should be treated,” he admitted.