undulating with the action. All she could think about were his lips. The need she had to feel them on hers. He’d kiss her hard, the way he once had, then slide his mouth softly down her throat. Her body tensed at the thought, her nipples hardening against his ribcage.
If he’d kissed her, she would have let him. In spite of everybody around them. His family, Zoe, all of them. But instead he stepped back, releasing his hold on her, shifting awkwardly.
“Bye, Van.”
Her body felt icy without him pressed against her. Still, she forced her lips into a smile. “Bye.” And if her body felt like it was on fire? Well she’d have to live with that.
She wanted him. The exhilaration rushing through her was enough to tell her that. But she also knew what that kind of need brought. The low after the high.
She’d let herself fall for him once, and look what happened. This time, she was determined they’d stay friends.
“Can I ask you something?” Zoe said as they turned the corner into their street. It was almost nine o’clock, past Zoe’s bedtime, and she looked suitably excited that Van let her stay up late on a school night. The sun had dipped below the mountains and the street lamps had come on, flooding the road with light.
“Sure. Shoot.” Van glanced at her sister from the corner of her eye.
“Which one was Tanner and Becca’s mom? Was it Aunt Gina?”
Van shook her head. “No. Their mom died when they were little. Aunt Gina is their mom’s sister. She moved in to take care of them.”
“Is she married to their dad?”
The moon was glowing softly above the tree line. “No,” Van told her. “They’re just friends, I guess. But she’s taken care of all of them like she was their mom.”
“He’s scary.”
“Tanner’s dad?”
Zoe nodded. “He looked angry all night.”
It was strange how perceptive kids could be. “Yeah, he’s never been very happy. Not since their mom died.”
“Did you know their mom?”
Van’s brow wrinkled as she thought. “Sort of. We were just kids when she died, so I can’t remember her that well.” She could remember the night she died though. The frantic rapping of Tanner’s knuckles on her window in the middle of the night. His tear stained face as he climbed into her bedroom, sobs wracking his tiny body as he tried to tell her what had happened. It had been the middle of the night, and Van was dressed in her favorite sheep pajamas, her brain full of sleep as she tried to make out his words.
His mom had died less than an hour earlier. Tanner had been the only one of his brothers not to sit by her bedside as she passed. It had taken him years to admit he’d been too afraid to watch his mom die, and instead he’d run away and hidden in the summer house, his eyes scrunched closed as he prayed to a god he hoped was listening.
He’d only known she’d died when he heard Gray walk into the garden and let out a haunting scream. Gray had been almost twelve. The oldest of the five. Tanner had never heard him cry until then.
That’s when Tanner had run to her house. And without asking, she’d lifted her covers and they’d curled up together on her bed, their tiny frames nestled together in the scant comfort he’d sought.
His dad had knocked at the door some time before dawn and somehow Van’s mom had been sober enough to let him in. He’d grabbed Tanner’s hand and scolded him for running away, not hugging him, or ruffling his hair, or asking if he was okay.
At least Aunt Gina had changed all that when she moved in with them. She’d turned out to be like their mom but on acid, constantly chiding, chasing, and feeding them.
“If mom died, would you look after me?” Zoe asked. “Or would I go and live with Craig?”
They’d reached the bungalow. Van stopped and turned to Zoe, smiling softly at her as she reached to cup her sweet face. “Mom isn’t going to die,” she told her. “But I’ll always be here for you. No matter what happens. And I know Craig hasn’t been here much recently, but he loves you, too.”
Zoe’s bottom lip wobbled. She was such a deep thinker. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Van reached for her, hugging her tight. “You never have to. I promise. We’ll always take care of you.”
It was the one thing she