If anything is going to happen, it’ll happen at Milk Carton’s official launch party tomorrow.
“I’m nervous,” I admit as we sit on my bed together, leaning back against the wall with our arms in our laps, mirroring one another’s pose. “This party feels ominous to me, like the start of something new—but like, in a bad way. Justin keeps saying this is about payback, but he hasn’t asked me to do anything this week except let myself fall for you.”
X turns his head to look at me, but I don’t meet his gaze. It’s too tempting. He is too tempting. If I allow myself, I’ll probably end up with him naked in my bed tonight. I want that, but also, I can’t shake this sense of dread over what’s to come tomorrow.
“How is that working out for you by the way?” he asks in the most ridiculously nonchalant way possible, like his interest is truly just a passing thought and nothing more. When I look over at him, I find that he’s got a cocksure smirk on his face. “You can be honest with me: just say you’re in love already.”
I snort and turn away from him, focusing my gaze on the lamp instead of his handsome face.
“You taste like a forbidden fruit,” I admit, glad that we’re tech free for the moment. I’ve got to be careful with the heart pin however; I’d love to keep that as a secret weapon, something to perform for in order to appease Justin. For example, we dump our tech, act like we don’t know he’s watching, and put on whatever show we have to in order to make him happy.
I can’t lose that option.
But also, I really needed a break tonight.
“Sister’s boyfriend is a pretty good taboo trope,” X admits, his voice surprisingly sober. “I just hope we can move past that.” He pauses again and shakes his head, slapping his hands on his thighs. “But we’re not supposed to talk about that right now, remember?”
Maxx shoves up to his feet, reaching back for my hand.
“Come with me.”
I take his proffered hand, allowing him to pull me to my feet, and then I follow him downstairs.
He seems to know exactly where he’s going, heading into the dining room and opening the bottom cabinets on the hutch. He withdraws several photo albums and stacks them on the table.
Kimber walks by at that precise moment, freezing like a deer in the headlights when she sees what Maxx is doing.
“You can’t show her those!” she cries out, racing into the room and snatching the top album from the stack. “These aren’t for her!”
Maxx turns around, reaching out and grabbing the edge of the album in strong fingers. He meets Kimber’s eyes with a soberness that staggers me.
“What you did to Chasm and Dakota on Tuesday was not okay,” he tells her, taking on a big brother tone. I love that actually, seeing Chasm and Maxx act like brothers to my own siblings. It’s too cute. It gives me hope that if something were to happen to Parrish that … No. No, I won’t let myself think like that.
Kimber yanks on the album, and Maxx’s grip gets tighter. He keeps his gaze on her, even when her eyes wander around the dining room in search of escape.
“Those girls will never respect you if you act like their lackey. They don’t care about you. I’m sorry to tell you that, but it’s true. Throwing your own sister under the bus because you’re jealous is a disgusting way to act.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” she screams back at him, yanking on the album until her fingers slip and she stumbles back, slamming into the wall with a grunt and then reaching up to swipe away angry tears. I see her for what she truly is in that moment: a terrified, desperate young woman who misses her brother so much that the pain is breaking her. “You are not Parrish; you will never be Parrish.”
“I will never be Parrish,” Maxx agrees, cracking the album open and tossing it on the table. I look down to see a picture of three little boys, their arms wrapped around one another’s shoulders. My breath catches and I reach out a hand, touching the edge of the picture.
Maxx, Chasm, and Parrish.
Maxx looks to be around eleven, putting the other two at nine years old. So this was just after they met Chasm for the first time? My chest tightens as I brush my finger across the photo.
“I will never be Parrish, but I’m still here for you.”
“Fuck you, Maxx,” Kimber snarls, still scrubbing at tears. But she doesn’t leave the room. Her eyes flick to mine, and I stare right back at her.
“I forgive you, you know. We’re sisters—even if that’s not necessarily something either of us ever asked for or wanted.”
