He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you chucking ice cream around then?”
“If I was chucking it, you’d be wearing it.”
It’s something we used to say when we were kids. Recognition lights Jack’s gaze. Combined with the feel of Skylar’s thigh close to mine, it’s a nice moment. But Sol’s words haunt me.
He wants us to think that’s all it is.
Makes sense. But what else is there? It’s killing me that I need to know so badly.
For once in my life, my phone is in my pocket. It buzzes with a text and I fish it out to glower at the screen.
Unknown:not heard back from you, but wanted to let you know the offer is still open. I’m in London for a bit soon, then Paris and Copenhagen. Let me know if any of that works for you — Chris
More than fair considering I’ve aired him since we first spoke, but I can’t decide if it’s the best or worst scenario. If I should be relieved my ticket out of here is still valid, or gutted it still exists.
Figuring it out has me reeling as I shut the message down and lay my phone on the table. My pulse thrums in my ears and I rub the back of my neck, adding fuel to the concern my big brother is sending my way.
“Bad news?”
“Hmm?”
“On your phone.”
“It was the bank wondering when I’m going to get a fucking job.”
“You can work here.” Skylar leans back in his seat, the challenge that gets me hard in his pewter-grey eyes.
Like a prick, I slide him the ice cream bowl.
He shrugs like it’s nothing and drags the bowl closer, picking up the spoon with one hand while he pushes his water glass my way with the other, and I’m too fucking aware we’ve danced this dance before. That I’ve made this fatalerrorbefore. But I can’t find it in myself to back down. Or tear my gaze from him as he slides the spoon into his mouth and licks his lips.
I forget Jack’s here.
I forget we’re in a crowded pub in broad daylight.
I forget every damn thing except how it feels to have those lips on mine.
His hair is messy today, hiding the taped cut on his temple. Resisting the urge to brush it back makes my hands twitch.
Skylar smirks.
Skylarwins.
I’m the first to look away.
I turn back to Jack, unsurprised he’s absorbed in his stock sheets again. Even before the TBI, my brother was the diligent one.Like Mam. It left me to be the same arsehole our dad became, but I don’t fucking want that.
Skylar’s spoon scrapes the bowl as I nudge my brother’s foot under the table.
Jack glances up. “What’s wrong?”
Again?Impatience rattles me. I swallow it down and try to fix my face into something that doesn’t make him think I’m having a fucking crisis. “I need to show you the new security system before you lock up tonight.”
So far, Jack’s seemed bemused by the changes going on around him. The cameras. The new locks. The guard fence I’veadded to the back wall. Now, though, he gives me a hard stare that makes me wonder how much he sees but doesn’t say. “Why do we need all this?”