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“What happened to your voice?” Bodhi asks innocently.
Damn kids, do they have to comment on everything?
I’m sure everyone is looking at me as if I’m some alien trying to remain unnoticed, yet making myself so noticeable because of my behavior.
“You too.” Conor’s tone is the same one I’ve heard when he has an encounter with someone rude.
Great.
I watch his feet move away, but they stop and turn back around, coming closer. “Your tattoo.”
Oh shit. Why didn’t I put socks on? That would’ve been the smart thing to do.
“Funny, I know someone else with that exact same tattoo in the exact same spot.”
I stare at his slide-covered feet. I think he’s getting pedicures. I shake that thought from my head. Not the time.
“Oh yeah, who?” Rowan asks.
“No need to be embarrassed. Let’s see the woman who finally tamed Rowan Landry?” Conor’s stance widens, and he crosses his arms.
My stomach pitches.
“That’s a little extreme. I didn’t need to be tamed,” Rowan says. He backs up to offer me the space to turn and look at Conor for a proper introduction.
“What the fuck, Ky?” Conor tugs the hoodie of the sweatshirt off my head and our matching brown eyes land on one another. There’s rage in his and apology in mine.
“What the hell?” Rowan pushes Conor back by the chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Conor stumbles but recovers like the athlete he is. “Me? You’re the one fucking my sister!”
Rowan’s head whips in my direction, face pale. “What is he talking about?”
I open my mouth but am unable to form any words.
“Oh, snap!” Tweetie says with glee. “And the sidewalk show goes fromChicago Fireto theMaury Povich Show. Youarethe sister!”
Jesus, does this guy ever shut up?
Twenty-Nine
Rowan
There’s no way.
“You’re Conor’s sister?” I look at Leigh, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s fiddling with the sleeves of my sweatshirt, tugging them over her hands and shifting her feet. “Leigh?”
“Why do you keep calling her Leigh?” Conor asks. “Is that some cute fucking nickname you have for her? She hates being called that.”
I turn from Conor and back to her. “Your name isn’t Leigh?”
I step back, and finally her guilty gaze drifts up to mine. Wetness coats her beautiful caramel eyes. The pain I see there shouldn’t cut me, especially right now when I’m the one who was made to look like a fool.
“It’s Kyleigh. I?—”
“Ky, what the fuck? I don’t understand,” Conor says. “Why are you with him?”
“Excuse me,” I say, stepping up to him. “Is there something wrong with me?”
