“No. Nothing happened. We’re just not as close as we were. That’s all.”
The table goes quiet, Harper is watching me the way she watches everyone, reading between the lines, cataloguing the micro-expressions, building a case. Issy looks like she wants to push but is holding back. Jo reaches under the table and squeezes my hand.
“Well,” Harper says after a long moment. “If you ever want to talk about it, we’re here.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I smile. “Now, can we please go back to talking about anything else,” I say, hoping to change the subject.
We get backto the apartment and dump our shopping bags in the hallway. Jo kicks off her shoes and collapses onto the sofa. I head to the kitchen to pour us both a glass of wine because after today, we’ve earned it.
“Hey, can we chat for a moment?” Jo asks as I hand her a glass.
Oh no. Here it comes. She’s going to grill me about Fish.
“I just wanted to say thank you for today. For having my back. I don’t think I could have told them without you beside me.”
The relief is instant. “Of course. That’s what sisters are for.”
“I mean it, Lettie. You’ve known about Emmett for ages, and you’ve never judged me.” She takes a sip of wine and watches me. “Which is why I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”Shit. The relief was premature.“What’s going on with you and Fish?”
“Jo …”
“I saw your face at that table when Harper asked, and you shut it down. Don’t tell me nothing happened.”
I stare at my wine, the bubbles rising to the surface, popping, disappearing.I could lie. I could deflect.I could do what I did at the bar and smile and change the subject. But this is Jo, my sister. The person who just ripped herself open in front of our friends because she trusted me to hold her together. She deserves more than my bullshit.
“We’ve kissed,” I say it to the wine glass, not to her.
Jo is quiet for a moment. “How many times?”
“A few times. It started a while back, and things started to blur between us. The friendship, the feelings, all of it was getting messy.”
She tucks her legs underneath her and turns to face me properly. “Who initiated it?”
I let out a sigh. “The first time I was drunk and apparently kissed him in a hotel corridor and didn’t remember any of it.” Jo’s eyebrows shoot up. “He told me about it later, and I asked him to show me what happened.”
“You asked him to reenact the kiss?”
I nod. “I hated that I had no memory of kissing him because I had been wondering what it was like.”
Jo is trying not to laugh. “And I’m guessing he demonstrated on you again.”
“Jo.” I shake my head.
“What? I told you about Emmett, and you grilled me. Fair is fair.”
I take a long sip of wine. “It was the best kiss of my life.” The confession comes out quiet and honest, and it surprises me how much it hurts to say out loud. “He had his hand on my throat, my back was against my bedroom wall, our brothers were in the next room, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of it.”
Jo gasps. “Lettie.”
“I know.”
She lets the silence sit for a moment. “So, what happened? Why did it stop?”
“Because I stopped it. Every time, I was the one who said we can’t. I was the one who drew the line. I was the one who gave the speech about our brothers and the team and my job and all the reasons why it’s impossible.”
“Sounds like the same speech I’ve given to Emmett,” Jo says quietly. “And Fish? How did he take it?”
I look at the ceiling because if I look at her, I’m going to cry. “He was good about it. He respected it every time. He never pushed. He just …” I swallow. “He backed off, exactly like I asked him to.”