The only thing he won’t tell me is where Parrish is.
“My grandma needs me. If something happened to me, she’d be all alone.” Delphine drops her hands to her sides as I turn my head, admiring the precision with which she’s braided my unruly hair. It looks damn good.
“Thank you,” I tell her honestly, turning around with a smile. My heart hurts a little at the idea of her leaving, but maybe it’s for the best? If she really is involved somehow, then fuck her. If she isn’t, she’s right. She isn’t safe here. I offer up a hug which she accepts. “Good luck on whatever it is you decide to do next.”
“Luckily, I have a job lined up already,” she tells me proudly, giving a big smile as we step apart from one another. “Anyway, I’ll give you my number if you want, and we could hang out sometime?”
I doubt I’ll have time for hanging out anytime soon, but I appreciate the offer anyway.
“Absolutely.” I take my Tess phone off the counter, and we exchange numbers. As Delphine heaves a sigh and prepares herself to scrub the already clean shower, I head downstairs to find Maxx in the kitchen. He’s wearing an apron but no shirt.
I almost die right there. Keel over on the spot.
“Maxim, you are just as bad as Parrish,” Tess scolds automatically when she comes in behind me and sees him dressed the way he is. But then she falters, like literally falters, stumbling a bit and putting a hand out to catch herself on the edge of the counter. Her hand is shaking, but she stands up straight and lifts her chin, like she isn’t falling to pieces on the inside. “It’s unhygienic to cook without a shirt on.”
Maxx hooks a half-smile at her and lifts up a spatula in apology.
“I’m sorry, Tess. I’ll put a shirt on.”
She nods briskly, heading over to her espresso machine for her daily dose of coffee. X slips around her, pausing beside me as he unhooks the apron from his neck, swiping the fabric over his face before letting it hang loose from his hips.
I pretend like I don’t notice his nipples or his muscles or his thick, wavy hair or anything else about him at all.
“Breakfast is on the table,” he tells me, pausing to whisper near my ear. “Have you spoken to Justin yet?”
“Not yet,” I whisper back, shivering at the warmth of his breath against my hair. “But I will.”
X takes off and I end up seated at the table with Kimber.
She glares at me, using the grind of the espresso machine to be a bitch.
“Are you enjoying being Chasm’s sidepiece?” she asks snarkily, smirking cruelly at me. I’ve sort of hated her from moment one, but some part of me had hoped that Parrish’s disappearance would bring us closer together somehow. Like, I know I’ve never been a big sister before, but Maxine has always been my rock. Anytime things got hard, I could throw myself into her arms and let her stroke my hair back while she murmured sisterly wisdom.
Now that I’m forbidden on both sides from seeing my sister, now that I’ve slept with her ex and told her I hated her, I’m drifting. I could settle into a big sister role. Seriously. I could. I want to. If Kimber were to lean on me, I’d pet her hair back. I’d hold her. I’d comfort her.
I choose to see this verbal assault as a cry for help, reaching out and putting my hand atop hers. She yanks her hand away so violently that her chair rocks and I glance back to see Tess studying us curiously.
Kimber shakes out her hand as I start to pile food on my plate. Crepes, apparently, are on the menu today, with Nutella and strawberries and fresh whipped cream—Maxine’s favorite breakfast.
I stop and stare at the food.
X made me my sister’s favorite breakfast. He must’ve known. He must have.
My eyes get watery, but I don’t let the tears fall, yanking a crepe onto my plate and then grabbing a knife to cover it in chocolate hazelnut spread. Damn you, X. Damn you to hell and back. Also, thank you.
“I am not Chasm’s sidepiece,” I whisper back at her, as Tess presses the button that froths the milk, giving our conversation cover yet again. “We have a connection.”
“I thought you were into our brother?” she says, sneering back at me. “Let me guess: you’re sleeping with Maxx, too? That’d be just like you. A whore.”
I narrow my eyes on her, fighting the urge to flick whipped cream at her pretty face. She’s wearing far too much makeup today. It’s caked on like she’s getting ready to hit a Las Vegas stage. I’m not usually one to judge, but this strikes me as a cry for attention.
