Page 104 of Stealing Blinds

“She’s okay, but …” Her green eyes spear me—warning me not to regret anything.

All my thoughts about possible outcomes come rushing back. “Sure. I’d love to say hello. Put her on.”

Thirty seconds later, Flora’s pretty face fills the frame. “Hey.” Her voice cracks, and her hazel eyes well with tears. “I missed you. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I am. I’m good.” I pause there, but her demeanor brightens, and I remind myself that she wants me to be happy, that we aren’t enemies; we’re just broken. “How are you feeling?”

She shakes her head. “No one wants to talk about that. Tell me something good.”

“I made some friends.”

“Oh.” Her jaw unhinges dramatically with a throaty laugh. “That’s … different.”

A smile creeps onto my face. “I am not that bad at making friends.”

“You’re not that good at it either.” She tucks her light-brown hair behind her ear, probably wondering if we’ll be capable of razzing like old times. “Competitive. And antisocial.”

And untrusting, with valid reasons, but I don’t add that. Maybe we can find our way back to one another.

“Well, they’re nice. I’ve been staying with them for a while.”

“Friends that you’re staying with …” She peters off for a beat, processing the parts of my life I’ve kept from her as she wanders out toward the water in my mother’s backyard. “Is that because of the mess you’re in or because you’re that close with them?”

“Both.” I move to the floor-to-ceiling window, aware this is all hard on her. “I know being uprooted isn’t the best situation for you, but I’ll be on the other side of this in a few weeks, and hopefully, everything can go back to normal.”

“Back to normal,” she repeats. “Will you return to New York or come to Florida?”

“No,” I sigh. “I’m thinking about staying here.”

She nods, anguish and regret engraved in her features. “Mom didn’t tell me where you’re staying.”

“Hey, Sly, I couldn’t stand being away—” Cash stops abruptly, probably worried that I’m talking to E, so I turn around, and his eyes drift to my phone, noting it’s a video call. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Who’s that?” Flora asks.

The last thing I want to do is introduce her to him, but I wave him over, accepting the collision of my worlds. “Flora is staying at my mom’s, so we were catching up.”

He struts over to me, and before he ever greets her, he loops his arms around my waist from behind and buries his face in my neck—prioritizing me with kisses and nips and reassurance through a suggestive inhale. He may be giving a subtle middle finger to the sister who hurt me. I do want to fix things with her, but he’s never been sexier.

“Well, well, well.” Flora belts out a laugh, one as boisterous as what she bellowed back in high school when a boy would hit on one of us. “That looks like more than a friend.”

“I’ve been telling her that since we met,” Cash gloats against my cheek, finally acknowledging her.

And the moment their eyes meet, something’s off. Cash appears to be piecing a puzzle together, and Flora pales. Neither one of them speaks. For at least ten excruciating seconds.

Cash clears his throat. “Hi, Flora.”

My sister doesn’t respond to him. Her eyes shift to mine. “La Lune Noire—that’s where you’re staying?”

She knows him. This can’t be happening.

A tremor racks through my chest and limbs, and my heartbeat ricochets from my temple to throat to sternum to ribs with a thudding crash.

Cash moves his lips to my ear, his scruff scratching my cheek. “I’ve got you, baby.” Then he peers back into the phone. “I’m not sure what Sylvie has told you, but I’m Cash Noire. I think we’ve—”

“Met,” Flora finishes. She sounds nauseous. “At Caf—”

I end the call, unwilling to hear the details of how they know each other. I can probably substitute the encounter she had with Danny for reference. Tossing the phone on the bed, I slither out of his arms and pace aimlessly.