Continuation 8

I regret saying those words to you. You seem to be obsessing on them, and it's getting in the way. What did you think? That I would fuck you and go?"

"Isn't that how these things usually work?" she asks.

"Is that what you want?" I ask.

Because honestly, I would hate that."

"Me, too," she says with a smile. "But I don't know how to act. I'm trying to be all casual, and I'm coming off like a crazy person."

She cracks me up. Cupping her face, I say, "It's not hard. We just have to be honest with each other about what we want."

I know she's got more to say. Some girls are made to have this kind of relationship, and some girls aren't. Ainsley's not. She's trying to be, but she's not.

"I wish you weren't my brother's best friend."

"Me, too," I say, pulling her into my chest.

And that's where she stays the entire day, except for when I'm forced to get up, like to take Sadie out. Other than that, we spend the day in bed. We shatter my personal record for how many times I've had sex in a day. And when night falls, there's no discussion about me sleeping over.

It just happens, even though I have work in the morning. Sometimes work is the perfect excuse to get the hell out after a fuck session. "I've got an early morning" or some shit like that always works. But this morning, I'm searching for any excuse to stay in bed with her curled in my arms. I feel like this is payback for all the lame excuses I've given in the past.

I find none, and I can't have Brody asking questions. I hate the idea of her waking up and finding me gone, but I don't want to wake her, either. She looks so peaceful.

I reach for her sketchpad, which she keeps by the bed. I'm no artist, but since I don't have the real thing, this little drawing will have to do.

CHAPTER EIGHT

PRESENT DAY

AINSLEY

"Can you puton your sister hat? Forget you're married to my brother," I ask Skye.

Whenever I need to talk to her about something private, I invoke this privilege, knowing it won't reach my brother. We've talked under our sister hats many times before: about sex, birth control, etc. But never about something that directly effects Brody. I won't ask Skye to keep a big secret from Brody. That wouldn't be fair, but I do need some solid advice.

She fakes changing her hat before plopping down on my bed. "I have a date," I say, my face crinkling up at the word. She starts screaming like a wild banshee. You'd think I just told her I won the lottery, not a date with a doctor. "Can you not tell Brody? I just don't want to make it a thing. I'm only telling you because it's that doctor from your office and . . ."

"Brody will be happy for you!" she says.

Exhaling, I say, "I just don't want a thousand questions."

"Okay," she says, sticking her bottom lip out before she visibly sobers. "Rhett's gone. He's not coming back."

"I know."