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Declan.

We freeze.

Bishop pulls back, his eyes finding mine.

“Shit,” he mouths.

Another knock.

“You in there?”

“Yeah,” Bishop calls.

My eyes dart around the bathroom.

There's nowhere to hide.

Bishop glances toward the shower, then back at me.

I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

He gives me a look. “You have a better idea?”

Before I can argue, he slides the curtain aside and pulls me into the tub with him.

The porcelain is still warm beneath my feet, and I immediately feel water soaking through my socks.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

Bishop draws the curtain closed.

Steam curls around us, and I'm standing in a bathtub with a nearly naked hockey player while my brother waits on the other side of the door.

I stare at Bishop.

He presses a finger against his lips.

“Bish?” Declan calls again.

“Hang on.”

Bishop reaches out, grabs a second towel from the rack, and tosses it onto the floor beside the tub.

Then he steps out, leaving me hidden behind the curtain.

I hear the door open.

“What's up?”

“Dad wants to know if you brought that bourbon you were talking about.”

“Yeah. It's in my bag.”

“Cool. You coming down? Mom says dinner's almost ready.”

“In a minute.”

A pause.