turned over my shoulder to find one of the twins on the stepladder leading up to where I was. Kade.
My heart skipped a beat, but I ignored it, turning back to the mess of abandoned possessions. "I'm just looking for something."
"We haven't been up here in years," Kade muttered. "Whatever you're looking for isn't here."
"What did you do with the box?" I faced him again as he climbed into the treehouse and sat down on the wooden floor. "Remember? Your mother's old jewelry box."
"I have it." Kade didn't elaborate, and I furrowed my brows as I stared him down.
"What do you need a jewelry box for, Junebug?"
"You wouldn't understand."
I knitted my brows together. "You might be surprised. Try me."
"I'm saving it for something," he finally admitted after a long pause.
"I want to have it." He laughed out loud, and I crossed my arms defensively. "What's so funny? It's not like you need it, Kade. You don’t wear jewelry. Why don't you give it to me?"
"You can't have my mother's jewelry box, June." He rolled his eyes. "She wasn't even your mom."
"Fine." I sat down on the floor next to him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in my stomach. I hadn't spent much time alone with Kade lately. It seemed like he was always avoiding me, doing anything and everything to stay out of my way. Which was funny since I was desperate to be in his company. But Kade always pushed people away. Everyone, except for his brother. Those two were thick as thieves.
"Are you sad about leaving this house?" He shrugged, and I groaned in frustration. "Why does everything have to be so difficult with you, Kade?"
His dark gray eyes twinkled with amusement. "Whatever do you mean, little sis?"
"Don't call me that," I responded instantly.
"Why wouldn't I? Parker does."
"Parker's different."
"Of course he is." His words were bitter, stinging me.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, Junebug. Come on, we're leaving."
"Not yet." I crossed my legs on the floor, staring Kade down resolutely. "I want to stay here a while longer. We'll probably never get the chance again."
"What's so special about this place, anyway?" I didn't answer. What was I supposed to tell him? Definitely not the truth. Kade realized I wouldn't give him an answer and groaned. A cool breeze blew through the treehouse, and I shivered. "You cold?"
"A little." I wrapped my arms around my body for warmth, but Kade was faster than me, stripping off his gray hoodie and offering it to me. Reluctantly, I took it from him, telling myself I was only doing this because I was freezing. But as his scent enveloped me, I realized I couldn't lie to myself. Kade's hoodie was like a hug from my older stepbrother—warm, inviting, and a rare comfort. "Thanks for that."
He nodded, and we sat in silence for a few moments before I finally spoke again, if only to make things less awkward.
"You sad about leaving this place?"
"It's just a house, Junebug."
"It has so many memories, though."
"Well, you can always make new memories." He laughed at my crestfallen expression. "You're too sentimental, June."
"Or maybe you just can't deal with feelings," I muttered under my breath, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks.
"Feelings are for the weak."
My expression darkened. "So you think I'm weak?" His amused smile told me everything I needed to know, and it pissed me off.
"You're a woman." Kade shrugged, making me even angrier.
"So?"
"So, you let emotion overshadow everything you do." His eyes sparkled as they met mine. I knew he was just teasing me, but I couldn't help it—I always got so defensive.
"That's sexist," I hissed. "And misogynistic. And probably a whole bunch of other things I can't even—"
"Big words for such a little girl," he interrupted.
"I'm not a little girl," I hissed, picking myself up and bumping my head on the ceiling of the treehouse. "Ow!"
"Junebug." He spoke up quietly, but with enough resolve to finally shut me up. "I'm not saying it's all bad."
"Oh, thanks." I laughed sarcastically. "That's just great, then. Just mostly bad, or what?"
He stared back at me with twinkling eyes. This was why Kade and I never got along. Either he was teasing me, or he was pretending I didn't exist. He didn't answer, which only drove me crazier. Instead, he stood too, but he was mindful of the low ceiling and didn't hit his head. But his presence was overpowering in the tiny space, and I felt his closeness like an oppressive hug. The aroma of his cologne surrounded me—such