Devious Love (Devious #1)

Prologue

DOMINIC

I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but my best friend, Matt, always shows up with a tiny extra—his six-year-old sister, Mia.

She’s like…always there, and since we live next door and my dad is friends with their parents, I can’t even escape her in my own house.

She annoys me more than homework, and I swear, I hate doing homework.

Okay, that’s a lie. It’s kind of fun when she plays with us. Sometimes. Like today. We’re playing hide-and-seek at their house, and she hid so well, Matt and I have spent the last twenty minutes looking for her.

I slowly creep to the closet in their dad’s office, and when I open it, big blue eyes sparkle with mischief, and she breaks into a smile.

“Gotcha!” I cheer.

“You found her?” Matt calls, his footsteps pounding down the hall.

“Yeah.” I hold my hand out and help Mia out of the closet. I’m kind of impressed by how she managed to fit herself into such a small space.

“Mia,” Matt fumes as he stomps into the room. “You’re supposed to hide someplace we can find you.”

With an even brighter smile, she takes off, skirting us both on her way out of the room. Giggles float through the space as she heads down the stairs.

Matt and I stick close behind her.

Matt gets ahead of me as we run into the living room, where their mom, Monica, watches a cooking show. She ignores us. She’s used to our antics.

Halfway across the room, Matt catches Mia’s elbow, trying to stop her.

She staggers back a little, and her body moves in slow motion.

Her legs fly out from under her and hit the end table next to the couch.

A vase on top wobbles back and forth until it hits the floor and breaks into several big pieces.

Monica gasps. “What’s going on?” She stands and rounds the couch, her eyes narrowing on her children.

Matt and Mia stand still, heads bowed. All the fun energy evaporates. I shuffle closer, stopping beside my best friend to show my support.

“Mom.” Matt sounds pleading. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to break your vase.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Mia sniffles. “I knocked—”

“That’s enough!” Monica snaps, zeroing in on her daughter.

I flinch even though the anger isn’t directed at me.

“Go to your room,” she says, her focus still firmly fixed on Mia. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

“It’s my fault.” Matt steps toward his mom.

She doesn’t bother looking his way. “I saw what happened. Mia, go to your room. Now.”

Without a word, Mia drags herself out of the living room and up the stairs.

My heart hammers. This isn’t fun anymore.

Matt and I don’t move. We don’t speak. Monica studies us in silence then goes back to sit on the couch as if nothing happened.

Though this is nothing new, the difference in the way she treats her kids still surprises me.

It’s always Mia’s fault and never Matt’s.

Sighing, Matt heads out of the room. I follow him, but after what I just witnessed, it doesn’t feel right to continue playing, so I say goodbye and go home.

In the garage, I find Dad changing his car’s oil and stick around to help him.

Once we’re done, we head inside to watch football.

It’s our thing. We always watch the game together.

I love it when he’s home and when he lets me help with cars.

I don’t work on them yet, but even standing at his side, handing him the tools he needs, is fun.

“Can I get a drink?” I ask Dad.

“Yup.” He dips his chin. “I made lemonade while you were at the Ashtons’.”

A smile creeps over my face. “You’re the best.”

Dad grins in response then focuses on the TV again. I head to the kitchen, and with my drink in hand, I step out back, soaking in the warmth of the sun. School’s out for summer, so I spend as much time outside as I can.

At the familiar sound of the Ashtons’ screen door creaking, I take a step toward their house, expecting to see Matt headed my way.

Instead, Mia appears. Arms around her middle, she runs across the lawn, still wearing the flowery dress she had on while we played hide-and-seek. She slips between the side fence and my dad’s garage and disappears.

What is she doing here?

For a few moments, I stand near the door, waiting for her to return. I count to ten, and when there’s still no sign of her, I set my glass on the small table on the patio and go in search of her.

The late afternoon air smells like grass and motor oil. Usually, this familiar mix of scents brings me comfort, but right now, my chest feels tight.

I round the corner of the garage, and there she is—curled up with her back against the exterior wall, knees pulled up.

She stares straight ahead, not blinking, not smiling.

She’s not crying either. I’ve noticed that about her.

No matter what her mom says or does, Mia never cries.

It kind of weirds me out, because even Matt and I cry sometimes, when we’re hurt. But also…I think it’s kind of cool.

I silently ease onto the ground beside her.

Mia lifts her head a little. “I thought you were playing with Matt.”

“No. I went home.” I glance at her, taking in her dry cheeks and vacant eyes. “We didn’t feel like playing anymore.”

“Okay.” She diverts her attention to her feet.

My heart aches at the memory of the incident in the living room, urging me to let her know I’m on her side, that her mom’s reaction was unfair. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She presses her lips together. “Doesn’t matter.”

My stomach gets tight in a way that makes me want to double over. “Still sucks.”

She shrugs.

“My dad is never like that with me,” I mutter. “Even when I deserve it.”

Mia’s hair is in a ponytail, like always. Her mom makes her wear it like that, pulled back tight, but up close, I can’t help but notice all the strands that have escaped to frame her face. She looks so small like this.

“Your dad’s cool too,” I say.

The tiniest smile plays on her lips. “Daddy’s the best.”

I smile in return. She always lights up when Luke comes home, clinging to his side, demanding his attention. She loves her dad to the moon and back, that’s for sure.

“Your dad is fair,” I tell her. “Way more than your mom.”

Her smile falls, and she pulls her legs tighter to her chest.

“You didn’t deserve to be sent to your room. You know that, right?”

Rather than nod, she looks at me, and that smile returns. “You smell like motor oil,” she says softly.

I blink. “What?”

“You always smell like that after you help your dad in the garage. It’s cool.”

“You think I’m cool?” I tease.

“Your dad is cool,” she teases back. Then, she sighs. “You have a great dad.”

“I know.”

Silence settles between us. It’s a comfortable silence, sitting here beside her. In this moment, she’s not just my best friend’s little sister.

She’s…Mia.

“You wanna come inside?” I ask after a while. “We’re watching football. Dad made lemonade, and I know you love it.”

She hesitates then stands and wipes her palms on her skirt. “Okay.”

I stand too, and Mia follows me into the house like she belongs there.

And honestly? I think she might.