by Jill Shalvis
Eli and a woman. Her first thought was, Good for him, because it’d been a while. Her second thought brought a sigh—it was probably just the new roommate.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” the woman said. “Have you lived here long?”
“Bought it about five years ago,” Eli answered. “Couldn’t resist the location. We’re fixing it up slowly as we get the time.”
“We?”
“My brother and I. There’s one bedroom downstairs—which is rented out to the roommate who’s in Paris for four more months—and then four more bedrooms upstairs. Two with their own bath, which are mine and Max’s. The other two bedrooms have a bathroom between them, so you’ll have to share. That’s why the rent’s so cheap.”
“You had me at cheap,” the woman said, and Kinsey cocked her head.
Wait. Why did that voice sound familiar?
“The woodwork in this house is beautiful. Reminds me of the cabins we used to stay in at summer camp.”
Kinsey froze. Oh, hell no. No way Eli would do that to her. Except . . . shit, this was exactly something he’d do to her, because that’s what he did. Interfered in her life, doing whatever he thought best for her. She set the Chinese food down and cautiously peered out the kitchen doorway.
Eli was in his usual work uniform of faded jeans and a button-down, his sleeves shoved up to his elbows. The woman with him wore a cute strappy denim sundress that Kinsey could never wear because all the bruising around her biceps from the three days a week of dialysis made other people uncomfortable.
And, yeah, Kinsey knew her.
Dammit.
Pretty ballsy of Eli not to give her a head’s up—though, actually, it was undoubtedly the smartest way for him to have gone about this, because she’d have refused. She took one step into the living room and glared at Eli. “Can I talk to you a sec?” Moving back into the kitchen without looking at the new roommate, she then sent daggers at Eli as he entered, thankfully alone.
He looked at her.
She looked at him right back.
He leaned against the counter, casual as you please, and raised a brow.
Fine. She’d go first. “Why the hell is she standing in our front room?”
“Take a wild guess.”
Because Kinsey had been promising to get in touch with her half sister for years now. She’d also promised to tell said half sister that she was a half sister. “How did you even find her?”
“She was in the ER when you were in the OR, but the waiting area is the same for both. We ran into each other at the vending machine.”
She crossed her arms, feeling bitter and defensive. “Right.”
“It’s true,” came Brynn’s voice from the other room. “And hey, I’m totally okay, thanks for asking! Also, are you? Because I’ll need a yes to that question before I go back to not missing you in my life. P.S., you’ve got very thin walls.”
Eli gave Kinsey a long look, like Say something.
She’d say something approximately never.
“Fine,” Brynn called out from the other room. “I should’ve known this was too good to be true. Thanks anyway, Eli, and no offense, but you both still suck!”
Then the front door slammed.
Eli looked at Kinsey. “Go get her.”
Kinsey blew out a sigh. “Why?”
“You’ve talked about finding her. When I saw her at the hospital, it felt like more than a coincidence. It felt like fate.”
Kinsey scoffed through an aching heart, because she only wished it could be that easy. “You know I don’t believe in fate. And even if I did, fate’s a bitch.”
“Brynn would be the perfect roommate for you,” he said quietly.
“Except she hates me.”
“Who’s fault is that?”
Kinsey looked away. “You can’t really believe that my long-lost sister, who doesn’t even know she’s my sister, is the perfect roommate for me. Did you hit your head on your surfboard again?”
“Hey, that happened one time. And I was fine.”
“You gave yourself a concussion.”
Eli waited until she turned back to him. “If you don’t want her in your life,” he said, “just say so.”
She closed her eyes, because she couldn’t say that. It’d be a lie.
“Just talk to her, Kins. You need to.”
He was right, of course. He almost always was. Not that that fact made it any easier to take. And she wanted to tell Brynn. She did. But it wouldn’t be easy. She tended to scare people away, and she’d rather have the possibility of a relationship in front of her than a failure behind her.
Eli’s irritated expression suddenly vanished, and he gave her a very small smile.
“What? What do you possibly have to be smiling about right now?” she demanded to know.
“You’re flushed. You’re biting your lower lip, which you do whenever you’re feeling hopeful but don’t want anyone to know it. I haven’t seen you this excited about anything in years.”
Damn. She didn’t like being so transparent. But maybe deep, deep, deep down she was a little excited. And also very scared. “That’s not true,” she said. “Max cooked homemade brownies last week. That was the most excited I’ve been in years.”
“Kinsey.” His voice was quiet. Serious. “Admit it. This feels right.”
Dammit. It did. And she hated that it did. “I don’t know her anymore—it’s been years.”
“Kids that you get to know when you’re young . . . no one will ever know you in that same way,” he said. “This relationship with her, good or bad, it’s got a built-in history to it that most don’t ever get to have. She knows you at a core level.”
Yeah, and that was what Kinsey was afraid of. It’s not like she’d ever shown Brynn her kind side. Not once. If she was Brynn, she’d hate her, and for good reason. “This is ridiculous. She’s already gone.”
“Who’s fault is that? Maybe she’ll come back. If she does, will you admit then that it was meant to be?”
“Sure,” Kinsey said, knowing hell would freeze over before Brynn would come back.
The front door opened.
Eli slid a triumphant look at Kinsey.
“Don’t get excited,” Brynn yelled. “I’m only back because I left my purse in the foyer.”
“Brynn,” Eli said, eyes on Kinsey. “Wait.”
“Are you kidding me? If you two argue this loud, I sure as hell don’t want to be living here and hear you have sex that loud.”
Kinsey rolled her eyes. “We’re not having sex! We’re platonic life partners!”
“And bad ones at that,” Eli muttered, as the front door slammed once again.
Kinsey pushed her glasses farther up on her nose. She hated wearing her glasses, but she’d run out of contacts.
Eli looked amused.
“What?”
“Your sister does that too. Pushes up her glasses when she’s uncertain. I saw her do it at the hospital and also today.”
“I’m not uncertain!”
“Go get her,” Eli repeated. “You promised me. Don’t lose out on having a sister because of your damn pride. Or worse, fear.”
She felt her heart squeeze. She knew that for the first ten years of Max’s life, Eli had resisted getting attached to his baby brother out of resentment and anger. He’d nearly lost his shot, but he’d turned things around. Now he and Max couldn’t be closer. She knew Eli wanted that for her, with Brynn. God, she really hated when he was right.
“Look,” he said. “If it helps, I get the feeling she needs you every bit as much as you need her.”
She shook her head. “I don’t even know what I’d say to her. I was such an asshole.”
“Keep it simple and honest and from the heart. Say that you’re sorry, but that you’re working on yourself, and you’d like the chance to make it up to her, to get to know her.”
“That’s good stuff,” she admitted, not really surprised, because Eli always knew what to say. He was a
rock.
“Not my first time,” he said softly, and gently tugged a lock of her hair. “Now go make it true stuff.”
Rolling her eyes, Kinsey headed toward the front door, having zero idea what she was doing. Oh, wait, yes she did. She was about to ruin Brynn’s life. She wasn’t sure how, but she was sure it would happen. Because that’s how it went in her life—she always managed to mess everything up.
Every single time.
Chapter 6
From ten-year-old Kinsey’s summer camp journal:
Dear Journal,
Ugh. Everyone looks at me weird here because I take a lot of medicines, and because the counselors let me sit on the sidelines when the other campers have to exercise. I hate the stares. So I stare back. I’m getting good at it. Someone stole my medical bracelet but no one would confess, so I stole something from everyone in my cabin. I hate them all.
I’d run away, but I don’t feel good enough to walk home. Also, I can’t leave Eli. He’s the only person here who’s nice to me. Okay, so he’s nice to everyone, but he’s the nicest to me. When I told him I was sad because I didn’t have family to write to, he told me he’d be my brother for life, and I could write to him. But he’s right here, so that’s stupid.
There’d better be ice cream for dessert tonight. Chocolate ice cream.
Kinsey
p.s. I still hate you.
“STUPID, YOU’RE SO, so, so stupid,” Brynn muttered to herself, taking herself and her duffel bag back down the walkway toward her car. How could she have just blindly agreed to move in? Had she learned nothing? Had she already forgotten the deal she’d made with herself to protect the people she cared about, the one where she was going to lay off rash decisions and let everyone continue to walk their chosen path without interference or distraction from her?
She shook her head. A temporary setback, that was all. A “two steps forward, one step back” sort of thing. She could fix that. And she’d make it easier on herself—the hell with no rash decisions. No more decisions at all, at least until she grew the hell up.
Behind her, she heard the front door open, but she refused to stop. “Sorry, Eli,” she said without looking. “But you should’ve told me that you’re still a member of the Kinsey Davis Mean Kids Club.”
“The Kinsey Davis Mean Kids Club?”
Brynn closed her eyes. Shit. Not Eli. Kinsey herself, the president of the club, the Kinsey who’d grown from a moody, surly teen into a moody, surly woman. And that she was also stunningly beautiful with great taste in shoes really chapped Brynn’s hide. “Never mind,” Brynn said. “Forget it. Forget all of it, I shouldn’t have come.”
“Yeah, well, you did, so . . .” Then Kinsey surprised her by grabbing the strap on Brynn’s duffel bag and tugging on it.
Brynn turned to face her. “What the hell?”
“You’re not leaving.”
“Oh, yes, I am.” Brynn tugged back, and—perfect—now they were in a full-out tug-of-war with her bag.
“Stop.” Kinsey won the wrestle-for-the-bag contest. Damn, she was stronger than she looked. “You gave Eli a verbal agreement,” the mean girl had the balls to say. “You’re our new roommate, for better or worse.”
“I gave that verbal agreement under false assumptions. No way am I going to live here with you.”
“Okay. I get that. But consider this—if you didn’t want this too, you wouldn’t be yelling at me. And you wouldn’t be all red-faced and sweaty.”
That that might actually be true really fried Brynn’s ass. Enough that her mouth bypassed her brain and ran free. “Seriously, you’re like . . . a Disney villain.”
Kinsey’s eyes narrowed. “Take that back.”
“Fine,” Brynn said. “‘Villain’ is a little strong. Deep, deep down, you’ve got some good qualities. Probably.”
“I meant the Disney part.”
Brynn rolled her eyes. For the past year, she’d slowly gotten into a bad headspace where she had clearly forgotten how to stand up for herself. Ashton had done that, and she was ashamed of herself because she’d let him. But it was a cycle she hadn’t known how to break.
Until now.
Suddenly, she felt strong and willing to be vocal and fight for herself. “You and I both know this would never work out, and frankly, I’m not even sure why you’d want it to.” She let her bag drop to the ground. “You don’t want me here.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you like to be mean to little kids just because they’re different.”
Kinsey stilled, then closed her eyes. “Yeah. So about that . . .”
“I’m listening.”
Kinsey grimaced. “You have no idea how badly I feel about what a big asshole I used to be.”
“Used to be?”
Kinsey’s eyes flew open, flashing something Brynn couldn’t get a bead on. Maybe slight humor and approval that Brynn was standing up to her. “People change,” she finally said.
Not buying it, Brynn shook her head. “Come on. I know you don’t want me here either.” Some of what she’d overheard hadn’t computed, but she’d understood that much.
“I just had a really shit day, okay?” Kinsey paused. “But I’m okay. Thanks for asking back there, about the hospital thing. It was a false alarm. I’m sorry for taking all of that out on you.”
Brynn supposed she could understand that, given her own situation and the whole string of really bad days she’d had . . .
Kinsey met her gaze. “I’m also sorry I was so unwelcoming, but I’m like that. Ignore me, but don’t go. Don’t take my bad behavior out on Eli. He needs to fill that room.”
“The house is great. It’s right across the street from the beach. He could get another roommate without even trying.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why?”
Kinsey looked away. “It’s . . . complicated.”
“Because . . . ?”
Kinsey didn’t answer.
“Oh my God. Tell me it’s not something kinky, like you and Eli need a third.”
Kinsey blinked and then laughed, and by the rusty sound of it, it wasn’t something she did often. “I told you, it’s not like that between Eli and me, but nice one on making me laugh. Just . . . stay.”
Brynn narrowed her eyes. “I still haven’t heard why it has to be me.”
Kinsey looked down at her very pretty, very expensive sandals, which Brynn recognized as the latest “in” brand, costing over a hundred dollars. She knew this because she’d been coveting a pair and unable to justify the price.
After a deep breath, Kinsey lifted her gaze to Brynn’s. “I’m sorry,” she said. “About a lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Like how I treated you all those years ago at camp. I’m”—she paused as if trying to remember what she’d preplanned to say—“working on myself. I’d like the chance to make it up to you, and to get to know you.”
Well, damn. Those were some good words. And truthfully, Brynn was working on herself too. She’d made plenty of mistakes, not the least of which was that apparently she wasn’t exactly the most forgiving sort. “I’ll think about it.”
“What’s there to think about?”
“Well, I’m not used to this side of you, for one thing,” Brynn said.
“My sweet side, you mean?”
Brynn’s brows went up.
Kinsey nodded. “Yeah, okay. ‘Sweet’ might be a stretch.”
Brynn snorted. “Look, it’s not personal. It’s that I just made a deal with myself—no more decisions until further notice, because I’m bad at them. I really do just want to think it through.”
“I guess I can respect that,” Kinsey said, sounding as though maybe the words were like cut glass on her tongue, which made Brynn snort again.
“Was that painful?” she asked.
Kinsey made a face. “Little bit. Listen . . . Just think about it. Maybe you’ll see that this wouldn’t be a bad decision to add on
to a string of other bad decisions.”
Brynn froze. “I didn’t say I’d made a string of bad decisions.”
“You said you’d given up decisions. That was brought on by something, the most obvious choice being a string of bad decisions. Plus, it’s all in your eyes.”
“Our eyes are nearly the exact same color of light brown,” Brynn said.
“Yeah,” Kinsey said, giving her an odd look. “But mine are good at hiding shit. You should work on that instead of the no-decision thing. Think about the room, okay?”
THE NEXT DAY, Brynn stood in her moms’ kitchen at the very end of her proverbial rope. Whoever had said you couldn’t go home again had been right. She was slowly going insane. Raina had tried to take her to a shaman to heal all her “inner wounds.” Olive had signed her up for karate classes, like the ones she’d taken at age ten—before breaking her hand on day one, proving she had zero athletic ability. Raina cooked and cooked, leaving labeled containers in the fridge such as For If Brynn’s Constipated, For Brynn’s Peckish Mood.
They meant well, but she’d gone back to the drawing board, looking for a place to rent. She’d looked at three places. Two were completely out of her budget, and one was an hour drive to work. Now, scarily enough, she was actually reconsidering going back to Eli’s. Neither Eli nor Kinsey had pushed. She’d asked for time, and it was apparently being granted.
She had to admit that was a first, for someone to listen to her, really listen, and give her what she asked for, and how sad was that?
The problem was her own. Her shaky self-esteem. It’d already taken a beating just being back in Wildstone. The last thing she wanted to do was make things harder on herself. She was inhaling some contraband donuts she’d picked up on her way home from filling out all the school district’s paperwork when she heard her moms. She quickly took her half-dozen donuts into her room and shut the door.
And then nearly screamed.
Someone—two certain busybody someones—had taken it upon themselves while she’d been gone to repaint her bedroom. It wasn’t hard to tell who’d done which walls. Olive had done two in a muted, understated cream, and then had put up pictures of the three of them from over the years. Like hundreds of pictures, from when she’d been missing her four front teeth all at the same time, to that time she’d gotten a bad perm and resembled a circus clown.
