I'm not up for a lecture.
There's a tap on my door, and I freeze. Hesitate long enough I hear him call out, his voice a little muffled. "Please let me in, Avery."
Atticus. My heart stutters, and I pause in my rush to the door. What the hell was that?
I swallow and shift, taking the last few steps to open the door.
Atticus looks like hell. His clothes are spotted with water and rumpled, a funny smell clings to him, his hair—it's getting long—is a mess, like he's been pulling on it, like he does when he's irritated or upset.
"Who was she?"
His gaze darts over me, banked heat that makes me shiver, but I push it down. Sex doesn't belong in this conversation. "Scout."
My mouth falls open. "Your sister?"
He steps into the room, shoving an iced coffee at me. It says a lot about my mental state that I don't notice it until it's in my hand.
"Look at this."
He's holding up his phone, a text displayed on it. I frown. "So where is she?"
"Right now? Passed out at Dane's house. I can't stay long—I have to get back to her before she wakes up."
"Why? What's wrong?"
He hesitates, looking at me from under his lashes. "Scout has some issues. She got involved in some drugs when she was in high school, and she's never really gotten out of it."
His words breaks my heart and my paralysis. I reach for him, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug. He sighs as I hold him, his arms unmovable around me. He holds me close; it's like he's trying to reassure himself of something. I lean up on to my tiptoes, press a kiss to the hollow of his neck, a soft, chaste kiss.
"Let's go."
"You can't go, babe. She doesn't want to see anyone."
"You need someone supporting you," I murmur, forcing him to meet my gaze. "Dane is at work, and you need to know someone is standing with you as you deal with this. That's going to be me. Even if I hide in the kitchen all day and make soup—I will be there for you."
He shudders as the words hit him, and then his arms are pulling me even tighter to him, wrapping me close as he dips down. His lips are hard and almost desperate as he kisses me, seeking something I'm not entirely sure of. Almost a reassurance. I reach up, framing his face with my hands, my lips whispering over his. My thumbs trace over the curve of his cheekbones, and I'm stunned to find traces of tears. I pull back a little and he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.
"What is it?" I murmur. He shakes his head, a ghost of a movement.
"Come on. You can ride with me," he says. When he steps back, he's pulled himself together.
But I know it's happened. And I'm not going to forget.
He stops once on our way to Dane's place, long enough to grab a change of clothes from his apartment. As he drives, his fingers drum against the steering wheel, impatience radiating off him in waves.
"Have you called your parents?"
His gaze flicks to me, questioning, and I shrug, "Well, I mean—shouldn't they know that Scout is here? That's she going through this?"
"No," he answers shortly, turning on to Ridgeway. Dane's house nestles between two brick houses, unassuming in the little neighborhood.
"You don't have to do this alone," I say, reaching out and catching Atticus' hand in my own. His fingers tighten, his grip just short of painful.
"Avery, I've been doing things alone for years," he says, exhaustion evident in his eyes.
Atticus
Sometimes, it's easy to forget how much Avery doesn't know about my life. It's easy to forget she hasn't been here for the past six years, watching Scout slide from a happy, innocent girl to the strung out mess she is now. It's easy to forget Avery doesn't know what pushed Scout off the deep end of drug use.
I should explain it all, but I'm too tired. Dealing with Scout has that effect on me.
I love my sister—people don't realize how much I love her. But the truth is that I'm tired of dealing with her fuck-ups.
It's a waiting game—will Scout wake up and demand drugs?—I found her stash in her purse and her suitcase, but I know my sister well enough to know she's probably got at least three hits of coke somewhere I haven't thought to look. Or will Dane get here first? He called a few hours ago and said he'd found some info on a new rehab program.
Talking her into going to a rehab program is another story, and something I'd rather do with Dane's help.
"Anything?" Avery asks, her hand brushing over my shoulder. It's not a lot, but it steadies my shaking nerves. I smile up at her, and she leans down and kisses me briefly.
"Nothing. Dane should be home soon, so that'll help."
She frowns, opens her mouth. I know what she's going to suggest, and I head it off. "Scout didn't use much, until about four years ago."
She waits, and I look away, swallowing hard. "She sorta fell apart after my father died. It was totally unexpected—a heart attack—but they were fighting and she...she took it hard."
"Atticus...," she whispers, and I keep my gaze on the hallway. I don't want to see her pity.
"Mom shut down after Dad died. She couldn't stay in Branton. So she moved back home to Atlanta. Scout chose to stay with us—me and Dane, and then me and Nik. She grew up in a college frat house, and it was a bad place for her, especially since she was already dealing with the loss of Dad. I could call my mother. You’re right—she should be the one to deal with this. But the fact is, I have a better chance of getting Scout into treatment than my mother. I hold the reins on her trust fund, and she's my responsibly.”
"Why?"
My temper, already fraying, snaps. "Because I exposed her to this shit. I let her stay in my frat house. I knew it wasn't good for her, and I could have kicked her out, sent her to my mother. But I was never good at telling Scout no. I let her stay, and she fell apart. That's no one's fault but mine."
She doesn't respond. I think she's still trying to decide how when the back door swings open.
Dane's gaze lands on Avery, and his eyes widen a little before he shuts down emotion and looks at me. "She asleep?"
I shrug. "Probably not anymore. You know she always takes her time getting up."
Dane jerks his tie off and stalks out of the kitchen, bellowing Scout's name.
Avery stares after him. "Is he stable?"
I laugh. "Yes. Dane and Scout have an interesting relationship."
She gives me a nervous look, and then I hear the cursing from the back of the house.
The fireworks have started.
Avery
My first thought is that Dane is gonna have his balls handed to him. The screaming goes on for at least twenty minutes—a knockdown, drag-out brawl.
Then his voice softens, and the girl starts weeping. It's a good, ugly cry from the sound of it, but it makes Atticus, sitting tensely next to me, relax.
When Dane reenters the room, he brings a petite, skinny girl with him. Her hair is long and tangled, pulled back to expose a face that is sharp and splotchy from crying. Her hands shake, but she leans into Dane a little as he guides her to sit down.
"You want some tea?"
"I want some vodka," she croaks.
"Great. Tea it is." He starts to move toward the kitchen, and I wave him down.
"I'll get it."
I feel Scout's big green eyes on me, sharply demanding. Her question is loud—she wants me to hear her. "Who the fuck is that?"
"That? Avery Emili. Your brother's latest mistake."
"Enough," Atticus snaps, but the words hit home, the barb slamming into me. Fury bubbles up, and I let the fridge slam shut. Atticus says something I can't make out, and Scout laughs.
Whatever Dane says silences her.
They work well together—the three of them have a history that I don't understand. I don't even know that I want to understand it.
And I don't belong here. That's the hardest part to accept. As much as I want to be here with Atticus, I don't belong here. I should have listened to him,
when he told me to stay home.
Tears prickle the back of my eyes, and it takes me a few seconds to realize Dane is standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. Watching me.
I square my shoulders and meet his assessing look. "What?"
"Why are you here?"
"Because Atticus needed me," I say. It really is that simple. That damn complicated.
"Scout doesn't need a brother distracted by—" He waves. "—whatever it is you’re distracting him with. She needs help."
"Why do you think I'm trying to stop that?"
Dane straightens, approaching me. Invading my space. I back up until my back hits the counter, and he leans over me. "You really care about him, don't you?"
My mouth falls open, and I start to deny it. I can't make the words come out. His eyes narrow, and he nods. "Alright. Get the tea and let's get this over with."
I watch Dane stride back into the living room. Scout is still staring at me like she'd love to scratch my eyes out when I return with the tea, and she opens her mouth to say something.
"She stays," Dane says quietly. Both siblings jerk in surprise, and I almost drop the tea. By some minor miracle, I get myself and the glasses to the coffee table, handing one to Scout silently before taking a seat near Atticus.
"Why are you back, Scout?" Atticus asks.
She shrugs. "I need money."
"You know what I said last time, right? You aren't getting more money unless you agree to go to rehab."
A frown mars her pretty face—because even strung out, Scout Grimes is gorgeous. "They don't work."
Dane makes a noise, and her gaze darts to him. Color floods her cheeks. "They don't work for me."
"I'm not giving you access to your trust fund, Scout. Not unless you go and stay clean."
She opens her mouth to protest, and Dane speaks up. "This is the final straw, S. You go to rehab, and I will do everything I can to help you stay clean. Finish your degree at UB, stay here, get a job, I don't care. But if you don't go to rehab, I'm done. You're on your own."
Atticus goes very still, and Scout's mouth falls open, shock clear on her face. "You don't mean that."
Dane stares at her, and she flinches. Tears fill her eyes, and she swallows hard. "Fine. Where?"
Chapter 18
Atticus
Getting Scout into rehab keeps me busy for a few days. I don't let myself think about Avery during that time—don't let myself wonder what she's thinking about my insane family. I focus on my sister completely.
Until I put her in the Viper and Dane drives away to drop her off at the rehab center. Avery slips her hand into mine, and I feel the tension that's been covering me for the past week finally begin to ease.
"She'll be okay?" I ask, not really sure why I'm asking.
"Dane will take care of her."
That's true. Dane has always looked after Scout like he was her older brother.
"Come home with me," I say, turning to her, pulling her against me. She melts into my arms without protest, but I can feel her indecision—we're on a quiet street, but can still be seen.
I should be worried about it, but all I'm really worried about is getting her into my bed.
"Please?" I breathe, leaning my head against hers.
"Come to my place," she says instead. I'll take it. We don't spend a lot of time there, but it's private and we'll be together—there is nothing about the situation that doesn't appeal to me right now.
I stop as soon as I walk inside the little loft. Before, it has always been neat, orderly, and clean. Now, clothes are strewn around the room, a garment bag hangs off the window sill, and she's got old dishes in the kitchen sink.
She's been spending too much time working with me, keeping me running while I focused on Scout.
There's a large suitcase on her roommate's bed, and that stops me cold.
"Where are you going?"
She hesitates, looking at the empty suitcase and then me. "My sister's wedding. Remember?"
I did—well, now I do. I just hadn't realized it was so soon.
"How long will you be gone?" I ask, forcing myself not to gather her into my arms.
"A week. Daddy made my flight arrangements, and he's got me staying a few days after the wedding to spend some time with him.
A week. Why does that seem like such a long time? How many times did Nik take week long trips to Paris while I stayed home? I never much cared.
I move without thinking and catch her in my arms. Her head tilts back, my lips colliding with hers fiercely. There's a desperation to the kiss that shakes me—because it's from me. Our time is dwindling, and I'm not ready to give her up.
I shove my thoughts aside and pull her tank top over her head. Her skin slides against mine, soft as silk. My sister, her trip, Dane and the divorce, everything that is slowly pulling us apart—all of it vanishes as I kiss her, my hands sliding up her rib cage and teasing a shiver from her as I cup her gorgeous tits.
I want to slide inside her, so deep she can't separate herself from me, and never leave. But since I can't, I take her to bed, and worship her body until she's begging, tears slipping from her eyes as she shudders. Screaming my name when I push her over the edge.
It's still not enough. Even when my cock is buried in her tight heat, it's not enough.
She's slipping away, and I can't stop her.
Avery sleeps next to me. I glance at my phone—still nothing from Dane, which is mildly worrisome. I lean over and kiss her shoulder then slip my arm from under her pillow and ease from the bed.
The kitchen is empty—she's been spending too much time with me to actually have shopped. I should make her breakfast. Something.
Show her I care about more than her research skills and fuckable body.
Seizing onto the idea, I grab my keys.
The smell of bacon wakes her up.
She sits up in bed, the sheet falling down to puddle around her bare waist. Her hair is messy from where I shoved my hands through it, her skin soft and sweet from sleep. She's gorgeous, and she's eyeing me in amusement. "I know that stuff wasn't in my fridge."
I smirk. "Sweetheart, there wasn't even coffee creamer in your fridge."
She laughs and crawls out of bed.
Avery Emilie, naked and fresh from sleep has to be one of the sexiest things I've ever seen.
"Get dressed," I say, looking back at the tomatoes I'm slicing, "before I forget to feed you."
She laughs again, but obliges my demand, tugging a shirt over her head and a pair of black boy short panties up her legs.
We sit on the couch, and there's a quiet that is strangely comforting as we eat. She steals more than her fair share of bacon, and because I love her, I let her.
Holy shit.
I freeze, my eyes wide and she pauses in the middle of her sentence. I can't even hear what she's saying, because that thought keeps dancing over and over in my head.
I love her.
That wasn't supposed to happen—she was supposed to be fun, distracting, something to get help me get my shit together.
This—this is so not what I need.
"Atticus?" she asks, softly, like she's approaching a skittish animal. I blink at her. "What are you thinking?"
It's on the tip of my tongue, to tell her. I swallow the urge and the words. "Coffee," I say, hoarsely. "I need more coffee."
Her eyebrows dart up, but she doesn't call me on the lie—my cup is full.
When I come back with a fresh cup of coffee that I don't need, I've shoved the realization aside and buried it for the moment.
"So my trip."
I look at her. "What about it?"
"I think you should come with me."
Her words, on the heels of my own realization, slam into me. All I can picture is Avery on a white sand beach, her hair blowing in the wind. Me at her side.
"Your family is going to be there," I say dully.
"Yes, well. It's a wedding. Family is sorta expected," she says tartly
, and I grin.
"Avery, I—"
"Look, don't overthink this," she says, her voice rushed. "I already paid for it. Daddy ordered the plane tickets. And frankly, I thought it'd be fun. We know that there's an expiration date on this relationship. So I thought, why not? Get a tan, swim in the ocean, watch my sister get married, and get drunk to avoid the great aunts who want to know why I'm not married yet."
There's a hitch in her tone when she says that last thing, like she's trying to control a strong emotion. Which doesn't make sense—she's never made an indication that she even wants to get married.
"I can't. Not with Scout."
"Dane thinks it's a good idea," she says, and my head snaps around. "Scout can't have any guests for the first three weeks, and it will do you good to have something else to occupy yourself for a little while."
"You talked to Dane about this?"
She hates Dane. She has since that morning with the coffee. I don’t really blame her for that.
"Well. It might have been his idea—for us to get away. It's not really a bad one."
I toy with the idea in my head. There are a million reasons why it is a bad idea—not the least of which is that I love her and this won't lessen those feelings at all.
But the prospect of spending the week with her, with no prying eyes, or crazy sisters, or even work. It is too tempting.
I smile, shift and kiss her, tasting the bacon on her lips, the slightly salty taste of the pickle she stole from me. "When do we leave?"
Chapter 19
Avery
"You’re WHAT?"
I hold the phone away from my ear. "God, Kelly, can you not yell?"
"No, actually, I can't not yell," she shrieks, "and don't you dare go into double negatives. What the hell happened in the past month?"
Good question. "It's not like that. He's going as a friend."
"I will put two grand and Daddy's best bottle of bourbon on you sleeping with that friend," she shoots back.
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