9. Eloise
9
ELOISE
The screen door slams behind me, the aluminum sound sharp in my ears as I stalk toward my oldest friend’s house. I don’t need to go far. Three houses down, to be exact. I storm up the front steps and pound my fist against his front door. I don’t even give him time to answer it before I twist the knob and let myself inside.
I stop in the middle of his living room and yell, “Nathan Cameron Thomas, you better put some pants on and get your ass out here!”
“Thorne?”
His voice sounds muffled, and I stalk across his living room to look through his kitchen window. He’s lounging on his back patio, drinking beer and soaking up the sun like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I don’t know why I didn’t look there first. There are only three places Nate spends his time: at Levi’s place on the other end of the neighborhood doing Seven Pines shit, at the garage working on his car, and in his backyard.
“In the back, Thorne,” he yells, curving his hand around the side of his mouth.
I storm outside, letting the aluminum screen door slam against the doorframe behind me. The sharp smacking sound usually makes me flinch, but I’m too keyed up today.
“There she is,” Nate croons, holding out a second beer can, like he knew I was going to come over.
“What have you done, Nathan?” I growl out, leveling him with my most lethal glare as I advance on him.
His grin only grows wider. “Ooh, Nathan , is it? I must be in trouble now. Here, take a seat?—”
“I don’t want a drink.” I slap the beer out of his outstretched hand, and it tumbles onto the sparse lawn.
“Damn, Thorne. No need to waste good beer.” His endless amusement only irritates me more.
I straighten up and exhale, rolling my shoulders back. Then I look my pseudo boss and oldest friend in the eye. “Sorry. What I meant to say was: tell me you didn’t let my sister borrow money from Seven Pines. Tell me you’re not throwing away a twenty-year friendship, Nate.”
His dark brown brows rise toward his hairline. “What’re you talking about, baby?”
I grit my teeth at the nickname. Some men use the term of endearment so they don’t have to bother learning a woman’s name, but not Nate. He only calls me that when he’s trying to get away with something, trying to soften me up.
“I’m not fucking fourteen anymore. That shit doesn’t work on me.” Irritation prickles under my skin like the beginning stages of a sunburn.
“I seem to remember it working just fine a few years ago,” he murmurs, taking a deep swallow of his drink.
I lift my arm, shaking the crumpled up neon green flyer clutched in my fist. “We’re not talking about that. We’re talking about why the fuck you gave my sister— my fucking sister, Nate —money and sent her to The Alley. What the fuck were you thinking?”
He sighs, running one hand through his unruly dark brown hair. I made one offhand comment about some actor with longer hair being attractive, and Nate stopped cutting his hair. It’s not long enough to pull back into one of those man-buns, but definitely long enough to hold on to, with a slight curl at the ends.
But right now, I kind of want to rip it out of his head.
“I was thinking that you’re too good to be running recon for Seven Pines. I was thinking that you’re fast as hell and no one handles a car like you do.”
I make a big show of looking around him. “Huh. So weird because Margot said the same thing to me. It’s like she’s puppeteering you. Or maybe it’s the other way around?”
“Chill out, Thorne. I was with her the entire time.” He shrugs, the perfect picture of nonchalance.
I narrow my eyes at him as a picture starts to form. Understanding rolls over my head and shoulders like fog. “Are you making a play for my sister, Nate?”
He holds my gaze for a moment, nodding a few times to himself. He tosses back the rest of his beer and drops the can in the garbage bucket next to his chair. “Is that what you think, baby?”
“Don’t call me baby.” My muscles tighten as my mind spins a little. Margot has been acting cagey lately, and I half-suspected she was dating someone from Seven Pines.
Something uncomfortable blooms underneath my breastbone. It’s not the sharp, hot ache of jealousy. Nah, that’d be too easy.
This is more complicated. A tumbleweed of warring emotions.
I want more for my sister.
More than a shared bedroom. More than Seven Pines. More than me .
I know it sounds shitty, but I decided a long time ago that there’s nothing I won’t do for my sisters. So I don’t care how hypocritical it is. I’m firmly operating on the do as I say and not as I do mentality when it comes to them.
In a lot of ways, we raised each other. I didn’t know how to parent them when I was seventeen. Shit, I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing most days. But we survived those early years, and largely in part thanks to Nate. He’s one of my oldest friends, and underneath all that pomp and swagger is a good man.
But if he started fucking around with Margot and didn’t even give me the courtesy of a heads up? Then we’re gonna have more than one problem to sort out today.
“You planning on wifing up my little sister, Nate?” If he’s gonna fuck around with her behind my back, it better be because he’s so goddamn in love with her he can’t stop himself.
He pushes to his feet, and we’re too close. I hate that I have to crane my head back to look at him. He bends down and tucks a lot of hair behind my ear. “I miss the peach color.”
I try to control the flinch, but I don’t suppress it in time. I watch as his face hardens, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “So that’s it, huh, Thorne?”
I can’t tell him I let my hair go back to its natural color because every time I looked at the faded peach color, I thought about a certain blue-eyed man. And then once I started thinking about that night, I’d lose days to those daydreams.
No, I can’t tell him any of that. Instead, I go to my default emotion. The one that’s universally accepted: anger.
I let it simmer under my skin, mingle with the disbelief inflating my head. “You didn’t answer my question, Nathan.”
“Mm. I do love it when you say my name.” He toys with the lock of my hair, a smirk growing wide on his face.
I bat his hand away from my hair and take a big step backward. “Stop fucking around, Nate.”
He drags his hand through his hair again, his bicep flexing against the navy blue cotton tee. “Would you be jealous if I were?”
I take a step backward and appraise him. He’s objectively good-looking. Charming and funny. But I’ve never felt that deep, almost primal pull of attraction to him. And I tried to fake it once. It didn’t work.
“So you’re with my sister, as what? Some kind of misguided attempt to make me jealous, is that it?” I chuckle as I walk backward. I love him as much as I think I’m capable of, but only ever as a friend.
Margot and I are half-sisters, but even if we were full-blooded, we’d still be different. My sister is a firecracker set to full throttle on the best of days. And when I tell her that Nate’s only doing this to get to me, she’s gonna eat him alive. Serves the asshole right, honestly.
“And if it was?” Nate takes a step toward me, throwing his arms out wide. “C’mon, Thorne. Don’t do that. Don’t walk away when we’re finally talking about real shit.”
“Oh, I’m not walking away. I’m just getting popcorn. Margot’s gonna eat you alive, Nate. And I’m gonna watch every minute of it.”