Page 50 of Ghosted

I smile. “See? Educational.”

Jagger’s eyes drop to the table again. The anatomy book. The photos. My hand close to hers. Every little thing arranged wrong enough to bother him.

“You done talking?” he asks me.

I laugh softly. “Oh I don’t know, we were just getting to the interesting part.”

Alice cuts me a look. “We were not.”

“We absolutely were.” I glance down at her mouth, then back at Jagger because I’m not a fucking amateur and the point is making sure he sees it. “She was about to tell me what else she likes taking apart.”

Her eyes flash. “That is not what I was about to do.”

“No?” I tilt my head, smiling like I didn’t mean to make it sound filthy. “Shame.”

Jagger moves another step closer, and the whole room tightens with him.

Not loud or dramatic. My brother doesn’t need to throw furniture to make a point. He just gets still in that fucked-up way of his, like every part of him is being held back by one very tired thread. His eyes stay on me, but his body knows exactly where Alice is, close enough beside the table that if I moved too fast, he’d be on me before she finished blinking.

God, I love family time.

I glance at Alice, then back at him, enjoying the way his jaw ticks when my attention lingers a second too long.

“You’re doing that thing again,” I tell him.

Jagger’s voice is flat. “What thing?”

“Pretending you’re calm.” I sigh like I’m disappointed in him, because I am. Deeply. Constantly. “It’s cute, but it’s not convincing.”

Alice shifts beside me, irritation sharp in her face. “Is this your whole personality?”

“Not the whole thing.”

“Shocking.”

“I know. I’m layered.”

“You’re loud.”

“Only because you’re still listening.”

“It’s not working.”

Jagger’s eyes cut to her for half a second, and fuck, there it is again. That little reflex he can’t kill fast enough. Like even when he’s pissed at me, some part of him checks her first.

That is new.

That is annoying.

That is exactly why I came down here.

I step back before Jagger can decide he’s done behaving, because timing matters, and I’ve gotten what I wanted. Alice knows I can find her. Jagger knows I touched the edges of her world. And now the two of them are standing in this basement pretending I didn’t just shove my hand between them and wiggle my fingers.

Jagger stops beside the table, close to Alice but not touching her. He doesn’t have to. His whole body is turned toward her like the rest of the room stopped mattering the second he saw me too close.

I hate that I notice.

I hate more that it gets under my skin.