Ruby’s face falls, and she steps away from him.
I tuck a lock of her hair away from her forehead and cup her cheek. “Ruby, get in the truck. I’ll get him inside, then I’m taking you home.”
Connor slaps my hand away and gets in my face. “Fuck off, man. That’s my girlfriend you’re talking to.”
For now.
His nostrils flare, and his fists clench at his sides. I step even closer, chest to chest with my brother. “Oh, so you do remember her? Could’ve sworn you’d forgotten.”
Connor opens his mouth to speak. Before he can say a single word, Ruby is pushing us apart
“Stop it!” she cries.
There she is.
She jabs a finger at his chest, and he stumbles back a step. “You don’t deserve another second of my time tonight.”
She turns her back to him and addresses me next. “Take him inside. I’ll call my brother to pick me up.”
I slide my hands into my pockets, so I don’t reach out and touch her. “It’s the middle of the night, just let me take you home.”
Connor snorts. “Big brother, Liam. Always playing the hero.”
“I wouldn’t have to play the hero if you weren’t such a fucking prick.”
“That’s enough,” Ruby says, her tone brooking no argument. “Connor, go sleep it off.”
She mutters something like “jackass” and storms off to my truck, hopping into the passenger side and slamming the door. I grab Connor more forcibly than necessary and shove him down the walkway.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I see Ruby slumped in the passenger seat with her face in her hands. If he weren’t my brother, Connor would be eating my fucking boot right about now. Ruby deserves the goddamn world, and someday she’ll find it. She’ll go off to Nashville and make a name for herself, and my dipshit brother and I will both become a distant memory.
That’s how it should be.
Chapter 8
Fueled by Spite
? Golden - Harry Styles
Liam
On the morning of my first full-time shift, I find Ruby and Aiden already in the kitchen, hunched over two bowls of Froot Loops. They giggle with each other like a couple of co-conspirators, and my heart spasms. Is this what it’s like to have a real family?
I still have distant memories of Connor and me sitting at the breakfast table with my parents before school, but they’re buried behind the persistent dull ache that still torments me whenever I think about my parents.
Ruby glances up from her breakfast with a tired smile. “Morning.”
“Morning. What are you two plotting?” I ask, eyes narrowed on my son.
“Ruby said we could stop for donuts after school if I finish all of my breakfast.”
“She did?”
“Mmhmm,” he mutters around a mouthful of cereal.
“You sure you’re gonna be ok?” I glance over to my beautiful, glorified roommate, who also happens to be very off-limits. I’ve been kicking myself ever since she stepped foot inside my house. Every moment since has been a test of my willpower.
How the hell am I supposed to keep my distance when she’s in my kitchen wearing something that can only loosely be described as pajamas? Her purple top is held up by thin straps that could break with the slightest tug, and her ass fills out every inch of her matching silk sleep shorts.
