Forged by Sacrifice Kindle rev 100519

by Evans, LJ

  I got upstairs and texted Ava.

  ME: You awake?

  It took her a few minutes to respond.

  AVA: Of course, at the bar. What’s up?

  ME: My roommate’s brother showed up.

  AVA: This sounds ominous. Is he a wackadoodle?

  I chuckled.

  ME: Depends. Do you think Mac is a wackadoodle?

  AVA: Wait. Your roommate is Dani? As in, Mac’s sister, Dani? As in, you are now roommates with Mac?

  ME: Bingo.

  AVA: **laughing emoji**

  ME: This is hardly funny.

  AVA: OMG. I can’t breathe. This is hilarious.

  ME: No. It’s not. How can it possibly be that, in a city this large, I’d find a room with Mac?

  AVA: Look at Eli and me. We found each other in a city of eight million. Fate has a funny way of playing its cards.

  ME: Not you too.

  AVA: Not me too, what?

  ME: Talking about fate. There isn’t such a thing.

  AVA: Did Mac say that? That you were fated to find each other again? It doesn’t sound like Mac. It sounds more like Eli. Or Truck.

  ME: Maybe they’ve rubbed off on him.

  AVA: Maybe you’ve rubbed off on him. **eggplant emoji**

  ME: Gross. No.

  AVA: Says the woman who rated him a ten.

  ME: This is just…weird.

  AVA: Eli is going to smile so hard it will break his face when I tell him.

  ME: I’m surprised he doesn’t already know.

  AVA: Me too.

  ME: I’m off to bed, but make sure you send me lots of good vibes. I have a feeling I’m going to need them.

  AVA: Am I sending vibes that you end up in his bed or vibes that you don’t?

  ME: You’re impossible.

  AVA: I just want you to be happy. Mac is a wonderful human being under all that bravado.

  ME: I don’t need a man to be happy.

  AVA: Of course you don’t, but take it from someone who thought she’d always be alone, having someone in your life who sees you for everything you are and loves you... There’s nothing better. Nothing.

  ME: Goodnight. I’m going before you get all sappy and write me a song while you’re at it.

  AVA: I may need to write a song about this no matter what.

  ME: **eye roll emoji**

  AVA: xoxoxo

  Ava and Mac had both made comments about it being fated. I wasn’t sure I believed in fate. I believed in working hard to make things happen. I believed in good karma, and bad karma, and that what you put out into the universe you got back, but I wasn’t sure I believed in all things destined to be. Mac and I weren’t fated to find each other. It was just a strange coincidence.

  And no matter what Ava said, Mac certainly wasn’t ready to see me for everything I―or my family―was and accept it anyway.

  No. We were definitely not fated to be. But we could find a way to live together and not make it anything more.

  At least, that was the lie I was going to tell myself in order to sleep.

  Mac

  DON’T GO CHANGING

  “Just don't go changing on me, babe,

  Physical healing.

  Why don't we dance away your fear of love?”

  Performed by Aly & AJ

  Written by Michalka / Michalka

  I felt my eyes flutter shut in the middle of reading the report on my desk, and before I could encourage myself to open them, a paperclip hit me in the forehead. I jerked my eyes open to glare at Dani, sitting across from me with a smile on her face.

  “This is war,” I said, picking up the paperclip and aiming at her chest. She covered her breasts with her hands.

  “Don’t be juvenile.” She said it with a stern voice, but she was smiling. “Why are you so tired? We got home early last night.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Couldn’t or didn’t?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Did you visit our new roommate in her loft?”

  “No!” I said with too much intensity, and she caught on like only sisters can do.

  “But you wanted to.”

  I rubbed my forehead and turned back to the report on the number of fishing boats in the state of Delaware and the impact on the local economy from their slow demise.

  “She’s pretty incredible. Almost too good for you, but not quite,” Dani said, continuing to push the matter.

  “Back off, Gooberpants.” I looked up in time to see her stick her tongue out at me at the nickname I rarely called her anymore. “We already talked about this.”

  “Like I already said, she doesn’t have to be the one you stick a ring on, Robbie. But I can see you having a good time together. You haven’t really dated anyone except―”

  “Don’t!”

  “Okay, I won’t say it. I’m just saying, dating her would give you practice. Get you out of the single-man dance.”

  “You’re telling me to date her, knowing I can’t plan a future with her.”

  “It’s just dating.”

  “I thought all women wanted was a potential forever from the men they dated.”

  “Maybe in the 1950s.”

  She went back to her report, and I tried to read mine, but all I could see was Georgie’s pale, jade-colored eyes. Her real color. The way they’d clouded over with emotion when I’d rubbed her arm last night. The way she’d looked at my lips as if she’d wanted to kiss them. We were definitely battling an attraction stronger than I’d ever felt before.

  I tossed the report on the desk.

  “Some of this stuff seems so…”

  “Mundane?”

  “No. I mean, I know it’s important to the people in our state. I’m just used to things that are…”

  “More life and death?”

  “Stop doing that.”

  “What?”

  “Finishing my sentences. It’s weird.”

  “It’s the job.”

  “Finishing my sentences is the job?” I teased.

  She rolled her eyes. “I know it’s not the same as the stuff you did at the DoD, but this is also life and death for some people. Our state really needs a revitalization of the fishing industry.”

  I nodded. She was right on all counts. It did seem less critical in many ways, but I also understood that what I was reading about meant a lot to the families whose lives depended on fishing. It meant a house and food on the table. But it did seem less critical than the things I’d dealt with when planning black ops.

  “I’m going to go get a coffee. Do you want anything?” I asked, standing.

  “Chocolate.”

  “Any specific kind of chocolate?”

  “You’ll know it when you see it.”

  “That’s trusting me with a lot. I remember bringing you back an Almond Joy one time, and you chucked it at me.”

  “Who wants coconut and nuts in their chocolate?” she said in disgust.

  “See. Trusting me with a lot.”

  “Chocolate, Robbie. Chocolate. Not nuts. Not coconut. Chocolate.”

  “Okay, but when you hate it, I’m eating it.”

  And I walked out.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  That night, when we got home, Georgie was on the couch with some show on that had people singing. Dani flopped down on the couch next to her, instantly enthralled as they barreled into a debate that made me realize they’d been watching it while I’d been at sea.

  I sat down on the other side of Georgie, putting my feet up on the coffee table, and our legs knocked together. She adjusted, pulling hers away from me.

  The people on the stage were croaking out something in a godawful voice.

  “What the hell is this?” I asked.

  “Fighting for the Stars,” they both said at the same time without looking at me once. Eyes glued to the TV.

  “It’s awful.”
<
br />   “Shh,” Dani said.

  “This duo is, but you should hear Kerri who is up next,” Georgie said over the top of Dani’s shushing.

  The TV flashed to a row of people sitting at a table in front of the stage before returning to the couple onstage.

  “Wait. Was that Brady?” I asked.

  Georgie nodded. “Yep, he’s one of the guest judges this week.”

  I couldn’t help but feel that roll in my chest that I’d felt when Georgie had run into his arms at The Salty Dog back in July. It was unwarranted. Undeserved. I couldn’t have her, but I didn’t think Brady could either. She didn’t seem the type to go flitting around the country after a musician.

  I couldn’t stomach the thoughts or the show, so I rose from the couch and headed to the kitchen. “I’m going to order from Bentley’s. You ladies want something?”

  “Of course. I’ll have the lasagna tonight,” Dani said without once having removed her eyes from the screen.

  “What’s Bentley’s?” Georgie asked, looking at me.

  “Only the best Italian outside of our grandma’s,” I retorted.

  “Don’t let Vinnie hear you say that,” Dani said, laughing, turning to join our conversation as a commercial started.

  “Who’s Vinnie?” Georgie asked.

  “Our brother-in-law. He’s married to Gabi, our oldest sister. He owns an Italian restaurant in Wilmington. It’s decent, but it’s one step further removed from Grandma’s than Bentley’s, but we humor Vinnie and Gabi by saying it’s the best,” Dani explained.

  I handed Georgie the menu we had hanging on the refrigerator because, as much as we loved Bentley’s, we didn’t have a standard order. It changed with our mood and often required a deep perusal of the options that we really had memorized.

  “I’ll have an order of the gnocchi,” Georgie said.

  “Good choice,” I told her.

  I called in the order, and she went to her purse, handing me some cash. “Nah, we take turns. This one is on me.”

  She looked to Dani, but Dani was back to staring at the singing on the TV now that the commercial was over.

  “Honest. We take turns. Next meal can be on you.”

  “Okay, but if this is just a way to pay for the poor college student, I happen to know where you live and can gut you in your sleep.” She winked.

  I chuckled. “Said the lady to the spy.”

  She grinned. “I always forget that part about you.”

  Then, she returned to the sofa, and Dani, and the show they both were watching like it was the next coming of M.A.S.H.

  As the night progressed, I observed with a strange sort of fascination as my sister and Georgie argued over the singers who came and went on the TV. They were so comfortable with each other that I was jealous, happy, and captivated all at the same time. Dani got along with everyone, for the most part, but she didn’t let anyone get close. She’d had a hard time in high school in the shadow of our two perfect, gorgeous older sisters. She’d always felt like an ugly duckling. But she’d slowly come into her own beauty. Regardless, she’d made acquaintances easily, but friends not so much. It was refreshing to see her get along with Georgie.

  When the show ended, Dani rose with a yawn. “I’m turning in. I have a five a.m. spin class tomorrow.”

  “That seems obnoxiously early to have a spin class,” Georgie said, and I snorted.

  “What?” she asked me.

  “That’s exactly what I tell her every time she takes it. And then she’ll be griping about how tired she is all day long,” I responded.

  “Well, tomorrow night, I have plans, so I can’t do it at night.”

  “Like a date?” I asked.

  “No. A work thing.”

  “How come I don’t know about this work thing? Am I not invited?” I teased.

  “Week one and you think you can just blow in and take over everything.” She kicked my legs off the coffee table as she went by, and I kicked her in the butt. She flipped me off as she went around the corner.

  “Classy, Daniella,” I called after her.

  She didn’t respond.

  I turned back to Georgie to see her smiling, and I couldn’t help the smile that took over my face in response. “What?” I asked.

  “The sibling thing. It’s nice.”

  “She’s a pain in the ass, but I love her. Are you close with your siblings?” I asked. I’d eased myself down onto the couch farther, my head resting along the back, and when I turned my head toward her, we were close. Almost as close as we’d been the night before when she’d looked like she wanted to kiss me.

  The humor and lightness that I’d been teasing Dani with went whooshing out of me in one big breath.

  “It’s kind of hard to be really close when they live on another continent,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like a dick for having brought it up, for not thinking about the fact that her siblings were in Russia.

  “It’s okay. Raisa and I—that’s my little sister—we’re pretty close. She usually visits me during the summer, but she is starting at Stanford in the fall, and I don’t think Petya and Mom wanted her to leave until she had to.”

  “Stanford, huh?” I repeated like a moron, but I just wanted to keep her talking to me. I wanted to keep her relaxed and sitting there where her smell could wash over me.

  “Yep. She’s one of the smartest people I know and all at the age of eighteen. She has this whole plan to create clean, renewable energy that she can offer to the world for free.”

  “Like in The Saint?”

  “What?” she asked with a little frown.

  “You know, the movie with Val Kilmer and Elisabeth Shue.”

  “Don’t know it.”

  “I feel like your knowledge of American films is woefully lacking,” I said as I grabbed the remote from her and did a search for the movie. When I found it, I hit play.

  “Don’t you have to go to sleep? You have work in the morning,” she said.

  “I haven’t been sleeping anyway. Maybe I’ll be exhausted after this.”

  She didn’t move from her spot, and as the movie progressed, she relaxed into the couch. Her legs that were tucked underneath her were touching my hips. I wasn’t sure she was aware of it, but I was very highly aware of it. Bare legs that I wanted to run my hands on. I wanted to run my hands up them until they disappeared under the sundress she had on until I found her underwear that I could pull aside with the flick of a finger. She was watching the movie with fascinated eyes and smiles; I was watching her. I had to do something to put distance between us. Otherwise, I was definitely going to end up kissing her. Not just kissing her, but pulling her to me and devouring her. I hit pause.

  “Why’d you stop it?” she asked, turning to me, her smile fading as she realized how close we still were on the couch. Her eyes flicked down to my lips and back up to my eyes as they had the night before.

  I barely held back my groan and pushed myself up. “We need libations.”

  I went into the kitchen and took out the blender, a container of vanilla ice cream, and frozen fruit from the freezer. I’d made her curious enough that she followed along with me.

  “Because all that sugar seems like a good idea when you can’t sleep,” she laughed.

  I smiled at her. “Just wait.”

  I hit the mixer button then took the lid off, tasting it with a spoon, as if I had to check it. I never had to check it. Making milkshakes was second nature to me, but I was playing a ridiculous game that would probably cost me more than her. And yet, I couldn’t help myself. “Here, taste it and tell me what you think it’s missing.”

  I offered her a scoop on the spoon. She had to come close enough for me to put it in her mouth. It was torturing me, but I was hoping it was torturing her also. When I removed the spoon, she ran her tongue over her lips, and all I could think was how badly I wanted to taste her. Lips. Tongue. All of i
t. The sweet scent of vanilla and berries that was an addition to her normal cherry-blossom smell.

  “I don’t think it’s missing anything,” she said quietly, unable to meet my gaze.

  “It is.” I reached over her into the cabinet, my chest rubbing along hers for just a brief second, building the tension between us instead of removing it like I’d intended to do by leaving the couch. She didn’t back away from me. I brought out a bottle of marshmallow vodka and waved it in front of her before going back to the mixer and adding it to the milkshake.

  “A little nightcap for our sugar fest. Should counter the effects nicely.”

  She laughed. “You really do have a sugar tooth.”

  I just nodded. I did. I’d rather eat a brownie for breakfast than leftover pizza, but not many people knew that about me. I poured in a hefty dose of the flavored vodka, hit mix again, and then scooped more out with the spoon. I went to offer her a taste but didn’t know she’d moved to watch me, the sound having been dulled by the noise of the mixer, so when I turned, the milkshake went flying off, hitting her in the face and hair.

  We both stared for a stunned moment, and then I burst out laughing.

  “Oh my God, you didn’t just do that,” she said, and I couldn’t tell if there was anger or laughter or both in her voice.

  She wiped at her face and then, before I’d even expected it, ran both her hands down the sides of mine, dragging across my five o’clock shadow, eyes full of humor. I was shocked into stillness that she’d retaliated so quickly. That her hands were on my face. That she was so close our bodies were bumping and speaking to each other again.

  I grabbed her hands, turning my face so that I could lick one. The berries and vodka were all sticky sweet, and yet, they still didn’t cover the taste of her skin. She didn’t fight me. She didn’t pull away.

  “I think I’d like to kiss you again,” I told her, the desire that was burning inside me echoing in my voice. I felt her pulse increase beneath my fingertips, rising to a crescendo, just like my own.