get in touch with her?”
Sighing, Kylie slouches over, resting her forearms on her thighs. “It’s never too late to make things right.”
More than anyone, my sister should realize that fixing fuck-ups is never that simple. I flick my hazel eyes up from my notebook and take in the sight of her pale skin. There are dark circles beneath her brown eyes from lack of sleeping. She looks like she’ll break at any moment.
Yeah, Kylie should know better.
And I’ve been brought into the center of her mess. I’ve had to deal with Wyatt McCrae’s frantic calls about her since she came back from New Orleans last week—he’s messed things up with her again and wants to fix it, she refuses to deal with his shit. I won’t say anything about that today. Not while she’s still so visibly hurt by whatever happened between them.
“I take it you haven’t,” Kylie says at last once she realizes that she’s not going to get any type of response from me. She scratches her mess of blue and black hair, shaking her head. “You disappoint me, Lucas.”
Her words feel like claws down the side of my face, and I give her a look that would make anyone else lose their nerve. Kylie doesn’t so much as move a muscle. “Have you contacted—” I begin, but once I see how her face falls, how her chest suddenly hitches, I catch myself. I’m a fucking monster for wanting to take my frustrations out on her simply because I’m hurting.
I’m a fucking monster, period.
“Have you talked to Sienna?” I ask instead.
My sister relaxes, leans back and hugs her arms over her chest. The motion shifts her t-shirt, and I’m shocked that there’s no fresh ink on the left side of her chest, which is already covered in tiny blackbirds.
Getting a new bird immediately after a parting with Wyatt has always been Kylie’s forte.
She must realize where my thoughts have shifted to because she flushes and adjusts her shirt, covering the majority of the tattoos. “No, I haven’t talked to her. Not because I don’t want to, but because she’s disconnected her number. And that’s why I’m here.”
My eyebrow jerks up in surprise. “Even Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe can’t make AT&T change someone’s number back, Ky. And my connections probably aren’t good enough to get her new number. Her friends and family fucking despise me.”
“I need her address.”
“Don’t you think you might piss her off by showing up at her house?” I’ve unraveled her so much that, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she called the cops on my sister.
Kylie jumps to her feet, clenching her hands by her side. “Don’t you give a shit about what happens to her?” She takes a shuddering breath. “Or, let me guess, she means about as much as one of your groupies to you, huh? Guess Sam did the right thing by scaring her off.”
I feel like she’s just punched the air right out of my lungs.
If I didn’t care about what happened to Sienna, she would be here with me right now, and there’d be no reason for Kylie to stop by and play my goddamn therapist. I wouldn’t care that my time with Sienna could be cut short at any moment. I wouldn’t care about what Sam would do to her, to me. I wouldn’t give a fuck about anything but making myself happy for however long that feeling would last.
No, I care too much.
I flip my notebook closed and shove it aside because it’s impossible for me to write anything today.
“She moved.”
Kylie sits back down, gritting her teeth and shaking her head. “You’re lying.”
I press my lips together and meet my sister’s gaze full on. Our eyes challenge each other for several seconds before I finally shake my head. “I know where she used to live, but now I’ve got no clue.”
“Can’t you find out?”
“No,” I say. “Because I shouldn’t be a part of her life.”
The determination leaves my sister’s expression and is replaced by disbelief. “There’s so much that I want to say, but I doubt
Sighing, Kylie slouches over, resting her forearms on her thighs. “It’s never too late to make things right.”
More than anyone, my sister should realize that fixing fuck-ups is never that simple. I flick my hazel eyes up from my notebook and take in the sight of her pale skin. There are dark circles beneath her brown eyes from lack of sleeping. She looks like she’ll break at any moment.
Yeah, Kylie should know better.
And I’ve been brought into the center of her mess. I’ve had to deal with Wyatt McCrae’s frantic calls about her since she came back from New Orleans last week—he’s messed things up with her again and wants to fix it, she refuses to deal with his shit. I won’t say anything about that today. Not while she’s still so visibly hurt by whatever happened between them.
“I take it you haven’t,” Kylie says at last once she realizes that she’s not going to get any type of response from me. She scratches her mess of blue and black hair, shaking her head. “You disappoint me, Lucas.”
Her words feel like claws down the side of my face, and I give her a look that would make anyone else lose their nerve. Kylie doesn’t so much as move a muscle. “Have you contacted—” I begin, but once I see how her face falls, how her chest suddenly hitches, I catch myself. I’m a fucking monster for wanting to take my frustrations out on her simply because I’m hurting.
I’m a fucking monster, period.
“Have you talked to Sienna?” I ask instead.
My sister relaxes, leans back and hugs her arms over her chest. The motion shifts her t-shirt, and I’m shocked that there’s no fresh ink on the left side of her chest, which is already covered in tiny blackbirds.
Getting a new bird immediately after a parting with Wyatt has always been Kylie’s forte.
She must realize where my thoughts have shifted to because she flushes and adjusts her shirt, covering the majority of the tattoos. “No, I haven’t talked to her. Not because I don’t want to, but because she’s disconnected her number. And that’s why I’m here.”
My eyebrow jerks up in surprise. “Even Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe can’t make AT&T change someone’s number back, Ky. And my connections probably aren’t good enough to get her new number. Her friends and family fucking despise me.”
“I need her address.”
“Don’t you think you might piss her off by showing up at her house?” I’ve unraveled her so much that, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she called the cops on my sister.
Kylie jumps to her feet, clenching her hands by her side. “Don’t you give a shit about what happens to her?” She takes a shuddering breath. “Or, let me guess, she means about as much as one of your groupies to you, huh? Guess Sam did the right thing by scaring her off.”
I feel like she’s just punched the air right out of my lungs.
If I didn’t care about what happened to Sienna, she would be here with me right now, and there’d be no reason for Kylie to stop by and play my goddamn therapist. I wouldn’t care that my time with Sienna could be cut short at any moment. I wouldn’t care about what Sam would do to her, to me. I wouldn’t give a fuck about anything but making myself happy for however long that feeling would last.
No, I care too much.
I flip my notebook closed and shove it aside because it’s impossible for me to write anything today.
“She moved.”
Kylie sits back down, gritting her teeth and shaking her head. “You’re lying.”
I press my lips together and meet my sister’s gaze full on. Our eyes challenge each other for several seconds before I finally shake my head. “I know where she used to live, but now I’ve got no clue.”
“Can’t you find out?”
“No,” I say. “Because I shouldn’t be a part of her life.”
The determination leaves my sister’s expression and is replaced by disbelief. “There’s so much that I want to say, but I doubt
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