His eyes narrowed. “What can it be? There’s nothing I could know about you that would hurt…” His frown deepened, and he trailed off. “Unless it hurts someone else?”

I still didn’t want to say, but he was making this hard. I squeezed my hands into fists. “Look, I will tell you, but give me time. Please? You’re right. If he knows, you guys have to know. But not yet.” I wasn’t ready. It was plain and simple. It had been one of the worst nights of my life, and it didn’t come easily to my lips.

He let out a sigh. “Fine.” He moved aside, his hand brushing against mine, and I knew that was his apology for pushing me. That side of Cross didn’t come out too often, and rarely toward me. His gesture meant a lot.

I unlocked the Jeep, but stopped as my hand closed around the handle. I looked back. Cross still stood at the end of my vehicle, his head down. He was deep in thought.

My heart tugged. I didn’t like feeling like I’d let him down or hurt him. That was the last thing I wanted.

“I’m not proud of it,” I called.

His head lifted. I’d just confirmed what he thought. We might not share our innermost feelings, but maybe he was right. Maybe this was something I should’ve told him and the others long ago. Still, the thought of saying the words, telling them what I’d done—it stuck in my throat.

“I’m going to skip.”

“Yeah?” He frowned.

The unrest was too much in me. I was too on edge. “Yeah. Find me after school.”

He nodded, our eyes holding for a second. If he didn’t find me, I’d find him. It was how we worked.

I got inside my Jeep. I was already off to a stellar year.

I drove home after grabbing a burger.

Taz was the good student. Not me. And I was okay with that. Totally and completely okay with that. I was not the type of teenager to worry about SAT scores, college applications, or scholarships. I’d be happy if I graduated, and I knew I wasn’t the only Monroe to go that route.

It was early afternoon, but I knew my brother would be at his bar.

He and my cousin had renamed it Tuesday Tits a year ago. It wasn’t a strip club, but they certainly got the customers hoping for one. I overheard my brother’s girlfriend talking about his branding, and though I didn’t pay attention to that stuff, I did know the bar was doing well. Channing had bought it from our dad, and then Scratch bought in. These days Scratch did more of the day-to-day running of it, but my brother had the controlling share.

And why I was thinking about all this was beyond me.

I walked inside, tossing my keys on the kitchen counter.

Heather had her own bar and grill to run, so she never lingered at the house. If she did come over, it was just to see Channing. I was expecting an empty house, but then I heard, “I forgot you guys have open campus for lunch.”

I whirled to see Heather coming in from the patio.

I slumped against the kitchen counter, a hand on my chest. “Announce yourself, would you?” As soon as the words left, I grimaced. I held up one of my hands. “Sorry. I thought everyone was gone.”

Her eyes were tight as she pulled the screen door the rest of the way shut behind her. Holding up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, she thrust them at me. “Take these. I almost broke.”

Heather had been a smoker as long as I knew her, but she was trying to quit. She’d been trying to quit for the last year, though I knew she’d relapsed at moments.

I didn’t say anything about it, just took the stuff and put it in a baggie before sliding that into my bag.

She collapsed into a chair at the table, watching me, a pained look etched over her face. Her shoulders lifted up and down. “You have half a day today?” Her hands drummed over the table.

I reached over for the bowl of candy we kept close and tossed a few at her. “Something like that.”

She caught ’em with a flick of her wrist, pulling the wrapper off and tossing them into her mouth in almost the same motion. It was a practiced habit, for both of us.

Heather was one of the cool ones.

She’d grown up working in her dad’s bar and grill, and she’d taken it over a few years back. She had a badass, no-nonsense attitude. And she looked pretty much the complete opposite of me. I had dark brown hair, usually just letting it hang down, and dark eyes. She looked a little like Cross and Taz, with this dirty-sexy blonde hair. She’d talked about dying it platinum blonde before the renaming party for Channing and Scratch’s bar, but she never did. I thought it might be some kind of bad bedroom joke between her and Channing, but I never asked.

That was gross.

I could sometimes hear them having sex, which was enough to suppress my appetite. I used that as an excuse to take off, but I was usually itching to go anyway. For being the rabbits they were, most of the time they kept it quiet, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew why they suddenly had a fan blaring at full force, or if Channing disappeared halfway through the night. He was either dealing with his own stuff or heading to Heather’s.

When that happened, I was never far behind him—just not literally behind him. I’d head to Cross’ place.

Heather sighed, adjusting in her seat. She was trying to calm down so she didn’t fidget so much, but I could tell it was a struggle. I noticed her skin-tight jeans, ripped and faded around the knees.

“Cool jeans.”

“What?” She looked down. “Oh yeah.” She rested her hand on her leg, tapping there. “Wait.” She looked over at my jeans, and her lip curled. “Gotcha.”

We wore the same pair.

Different adult and I’d have a smart-ass thought, but this was Heather.

“How pissed was my brother this morning?” I asked.

She grimaced. “You want me to be honest or…not answer?”

I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and let the door slam shut on its own. “That bad, huh?”

After we woke Heather up, Channing had started grilling me. He’d wanted to know where I’d been, who I was with, was I okay… He knew most of the answers. I was always with the guys. But he just kept going with the same questions our mother had drilled him with when he was in middle school.

Then came the questions about my phone. Why couldn’t I use it? Was it broken? Had I lost it? The threats were third in line. If I didn’t take his calls seriously, he was going to put a tracking app on my phone. He wasn’t above stalking his own little sister. There’d be consequences if I didn’t start checking in with him more.

I never admitted it, but part of me wondered how long it would take him to follow through with the threats. Shit. If I’d been my kid, I would’ve had the GPS app on my phone the first day. Or even worse, I’d have switched out the whole plan. I wouldn’t have wasted my time with threats. I would’ve installed the apps before I gave me the phone. I was paying the bills, so I could have access to anything I wanted on there. Privacy be damned.

“Sorry I woke you up this morning,” I told Heather, meeting her eyes.

I’d pulled their bedroom door shut, hoping she would go back to bed, but she hadn’t. As Channing began his tirade in the hallway, the door had opened back up. She slipped by us to go make coffee and breakfast.

“It’s more him than you,” she said with a sigh. “He just goes off, and then I know he’s not coming back to bed. It’s safe to say your brother is feeling a bit more sympathy for your parents’ situation back when he was in school.”

Well, parent. And I didn’t think he did. He and our dad were toxic. And it only got worse after Mom died. Bringing my bag of food and my water, I sat across from her at the table.

We didn’t talk for a minute, until I noticed her watching my food, then my arms before a wistful expression softened her mouth. Her eyes darted to my bag, where I’d put her cigarettes.

The tapping started again after that.

I grinned. “Are you worried about me eating?”

The tapping stopped. Her eyebrows pulled together. “I’m that transparent?”

I nodded, unwrapping my burger.