“Sure,” I drawled, then strolled casually toward the door as they moved to unload the stuff in Ella’s room.
Just as I was about to step through the door, I almost collided with a body even bulkier than mine.
“Oh, sorry, dude,” a deep voice rumbled.
I held my hands up apologetically and met the emotionless stare of Colt Michaels. This was fucking crazy. I’d been following Colt’s career for years now, and while I knew my sister had met him, I hadn’t expected to run into him.
“No problem. Hey, congrats on the draft!” God, I soundedwaytoo excited, but I couldn’t help it, I fucking idolized the guy.
“Thanks! Cool tattoos. Are you Ella’s brother?”
“Yup. What gave it away?” I joked, trying to play it cool.
“Might’ve been the hair, dude.” We both chuckled, his expressionless mask lifting for the first time. “Oh, wait, that means you’re going to be my replacement, huh? You’ll love it, don’t worry. The guys are great.”
“Sure am. Definitely, I usually get along just fine wherever I go.”
Sierra snorted in her corner and then disappeared into her room without a word. Tucking my tongue into my cheek to keep from smiling, I stared after her and shrugged at Colt, who shot me a puzzled look.
It was only when he disappeared into the apartment that a grin finally spread across my face. My hand closed around the spare key Ella had given me in my pocket with a deep-seated satisfaction.
She couldtryto run, but she wouldn’t get very far.
Seventeen
Sierra
Still seething, I bent over the stove, furiously scrubbing a stain with my trusty weapon of choice — the scratchy sponge shaped like a happy little face.
Unlike that wee motherfucker, Iwasn’thappy. Not at all. I had waited in my room until I heard Ella’s helpers leaving before I dared to set foot outside again.
Then I’d started rage-cleaning. At the rate I was going, this place would soon be spotless.Who the fuck does he think he is?I scrubbed harder.
Oh, right, he’d told me. The cocky, presumptuous, arrogant little shit thought he’d be mynext boyfriend.
After he fucking lied to me, no less.Skirting around the truth, my ass. This was just more proof that I couldn’t trust my own judgment. Everyone around me kept feeding me lies, expecting me to just swallow them, and I was sick of it.
It didn’t matter that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time I saw a flash of red hair or someone with countless tattoos, I almost twisted my neck to see if it was him.
How, in the name of all that is holy, was this dude not even a freshman?I mean, seriously, what the hell were they feeding these guys back in Georgia?
The only consolation I found in the situation was that I had not actually committed a crime because he was at least of age. That much I gathered at least from a quick — veryfrantic —scroll through his IG feed.
The beard, the tattoos, the build, the height, the way he carried himself … none of it gave the slightest hint that he hadn’t even graduated yet. I knew men in theirmid- to late twentieswho weren’t as confident and self-assured as this deceptive asshole.
Now I was going to be on the edge all the time, in my own home. This was supposed to be my sanctuary, but instead it was just another cage.
The anxiety about him having a valid, legitimate reason to show up here and the fact that I was certain he’d make use of this, shamelessly, had my stomach in knots.
Kind of feels more like butterflies, an annoying voice in my head remarked.
Nope, definitely anxiety. No butterflies here.
I stopped my incessant scrubbing when the memory of the way he’d touched me came back to me, so vivid, as if his hand was still clasped around my neck. My stomach gave another little tug.
Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety, I chanted silently. Thankfully, he spared me the humiliation of confirming his theory.
Why did it have to behim? Why did he have to be the first man to make me feel this way? I was angry at him, angry at myself, at the things he made me feel. I would have to tread carefully now, even here.
