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Zeke, still standing behind me, drops his forehead to my shoulder. I hear him mutter, “I fucking hate them so much.”
He lifts his head and levels his sisters with a hard stare. “I live in the same house. Don’t you think she maybe wants her privacy? I’m right there.” He points to the ceiling.
“Or you could be right there.” Tabby motions to the second bedroom, which is full of workout equipment.
My cheeks flare at the idea of him living here with me. I’m nineteen. I’ve never lived with anyone except my family. Now I’m going to be in the same space as the guy who got me pregnant. The guy who I am still so very attracted to.
“Yeah, it’s too late bud, I’ve already mentally moved into your room. You live here now.” Del shrugs and picks at her fake nail.
It’s all so unnerving and obnoxiously hilarious at the same time. I burst out laughing and slap my hand over my mouth. All eyes are on me, and my cheeks get hotter.
Zeke’s shifting and flustered, and to be honest, it’s adorable on a man of his stature and gruffness.
“Are you on their side?” he asks me, high voiced and breathy.
“They scare me. So yes. I’m siding with them.”
“We’re not scary,” Del pats my hand, then nods to Pris. “Well, she’s scary. Me and Tabitha are delightful.”
I make eye contact with Pris, whose deep gaze roots through my soul, and I shift in my chair. She is terrifying, but there’s something in there I recognize. Everyone assumes my sister is a huge bitch when they meet her, and most stop there. I don’t want to do that to Pris. There’s something more under all that glowering, just like Dru.
Zeke growls. It starts low in his chest, then grows as his shoulders tighten and ends in a ferocious roar as he releases the tension toward his sisters.
“Hey,” Pris snaps. “Would you rather us be mean to her and shame her for getting knocked up?”
Zeke stops pacing. “Of course not.”
My shoulders slump forward, and sickness weaves through my belly. This sort of direct and open conversation is not something I’m used to. Girls shaming and bullying each other is kind of what I grew up with. Always in competition to be the prettiest, sexiest, smartest, whatever-est.
“Well then, accept the fact that we blame you,” Pris says. “You did this. Now you fix it. You give this girl everything she needs and anything she wants at all times, day and night.”
Stress radiates off Zeke like heat off a radiator. I slip off the stool and follow my intense need to rescue him.
