hearing, three months following the accident. Neither of them would tell me the details.
I follow her into the house, scooping up Firefly on the way. I glance back once more, and my brother is walking back, Reyn standing alone now in the doorway. Our eyes meet for a moment, sending a spark across my nerves, before he steps back into the house and out of sight.
Before I can disappear into my bedroom, Emory catches up to me. “What the hell, V?”
I give him a tired look. “What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”
“Does it matter?” I look at him accusingly. “Apparently I can be tracked anywhere.”
He rolls his eyes. “As if Mom and Dad couldn’t track my phone, too.”
“But they never do!” I storm into my room, heedless of him entering behind me. “You can accidentally fall asleep at a friend’s house and it’d be no big deal. This is exactly what I was talking about.”
“What do you expect? You just walk out, no note, gone ‘til midnight. Do you have any idea—” His voice cuts off with a choked sound. “When it’s the two of us here, I’m responsible for you. I’m always responsible for you.”
If Emory were any other sibling, that might have sounded bitter. Instead, it just sounds sad and exhausting.
I look at his slumped shoulders and drawn face, and can’t help but feel bad. He’s not lying. Our parents put way too much pressure on him to look after me, as if he doesn’t already put enough on himself. “It really was an accident. I thought I’d just be in and out.”
“Just tell me next time,” he pleads.
I flop onto my bed and make the only promise I know I can keep. “I’ll try to be more considerate, okay?”
He’s pacified by this enough to leave, which is good because I can’t put this uncertain feeling into words. This new thing we’re doing…it’s so hard to know what normal even is. Would any other girl tell her brother she’s popping over next door? Would any other girl have to explain why? Would any other girl have to hide that she’d kissed a guy tonight, and that it didn’t matter, because he’d brushed her off.
The kiss.
God, just remembering it makes my insides plummet in equal parts excitement and humiliation. The latter is tempered by the knowledge that he seemed just as into it as I was. That was easily the hottest thing about it, although the feeling of his mouth sliding against mine, those hands holding me to him, is a close second.
That was a mistake. You know why.
But there are too many reasons hidden behind that truth to grasp at a single one. Was it a mistake because I’m his best friend’s kid sister? Because we have this whole complicated history? Because we’re both too messed up? Because the people around us would never be okay with it?
Or was it a mistake because Reyn doesn’t want me that way?
Reluctantly, I lift myself from the bed and walk toward the window, pulling the curtain aside. Even though I’d been looking for him, I’m still surprised to see Reyn. His window is open and he’s leaning out, elbows resting on the sill, turning his phone over in his hands. He doesn’t see me at first because his head is hanging, face hidden. A full minute passes before he looks up.
He straightens and pauses for a moment, watching me. Then, he lifts his phone, and holds up four fingers. Realizing what he’s doing, I take my own from my pocket and slowly program in the numbers.
I hit the call button.
There’s a few seconds of delay, but Reyn finally picks up, pressing the phone to his ear. I watch his lips move. “Are you in trouble?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. My mom was cool and Em and I hashed it out.”
He resumes his earlier position, forearm propped on the sill. “Sorry.”
“What for? It’s not your fault.” I smile sadly, burning with the question that keeps running through my head. I ask him another one, instead. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing,” Reyn answers, shrugging. “I think he was just wondering if you were here on Devil business, but couldn’t say because of your mom.”
“I guess it’s just that thing, you know? About me needing to push it sometimes, show them that I want to have a life. I knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
His eyes dart up to mine and whatever he’s about to say, he looks hesitant about