Page 92 of Ghosted

Not calm or empty.

Still in that way that means the violence is already awake and just waiting for permission.

God, I missed him like this.

“Oh, don’t look so wounded,” I say, leaning back against the counter with my coffee like he isn’t standing in my kitchen looking ready to rip my face off. “You weren’t exactly subtle, little brother. Big bad Wraith, all bruised and bloody, sitting outside a girl’s apartment like a stray dog she didn’t trust enough to let inside.”

His eyes flatten. “Were you there?”

I shrug. “Close enough to enjoy the visual.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Johnny.”

There it is.

Low. Mean. A pretty little warning wrapped in teeth.

I fucking love when he says my name like that.

“What?” I ask, grinning into my mug. “Don’t make me the villain here. You’re the one who spent the night guarding a door she shut in your face. That’s not on me. That’s just embarrassing.”

His jaw ticks.

Beautiful.

I set the mug down slowly, because I want both hands free when he finally stops pretending he has self-control. “That had to hurt, right? You show up covered in blood, all tragic and furious, probably thinking she’d open the door and fall into your arms because you looked so goddamn tortured.”

His stare gets colder.

I keep going.

“But she didn’t.” I click my tongue. “She looked at you, saw the whole fucked-up mess, and decided a locked door was better company. Jesus. That’s almost poetic.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m enjoying this.” I tilt my head, letting my smile cut wider. “All that ‘she’s mine’ shit sitting in your chest, and she still left you in the hallway.”

He moves fast.

One second, he’s across the room.

The next, his fist is twisted in my shirt, and my back slams into the counter hard enough to rattle the Scotch bottle.

My mug tips.

The ceramic hits the floor and shatters between us.

I glance down at the mess, then back at him.

“That was my favorite,” I say, because I’m not a fucking amateur.

His face is inches from mine, eyes dead and furious.

“This bullshit is over,” he says. “We’re not fucking kids anymore, Johnny. You’re going to stay the fuck away from her.”

I let that sit for a second.

Then I smile.