EIGHTEEN
AMELIE
When we got back to the house, Adam pulled the car around the back of the Rook estate. Even at eight in the evening, the sky was light and golden. Adam parked by the pool house, and we both climbed out. The low thud of a basketball immediately caught my attention.
Tanner and Kieran had moved some patio furniture to make a makeshift court. Weston and Lincoln were there too. They were all shirtless, skin gleaming with sweat under the evening sun, wearing brightly coloured shorts. It was, to be frank, a spectacular view.
As Kieran noticed us approaching, he spun the ball to his brother and jogged over. He didn't hug or kiss me—smart move, considering Adam was watching like a hawk. He gave my brother a tight, respectful nod and then his eyes found mine.
"How did it go?" Kieran asked, his voice low.
"Amazing," I said, a genuine smile breaking through. "She looked so settled and well."
"Good." His gaze lingered on my lips for a fraction of a second before Adam stepped up beside me.
"You boys actually know how to play, or are you posing for a photoshoot?" Adam asked, crossing his arms with a cocky grin. “To be fair, you’d all make it onto the cover of Attitude.” I hid my smile as my brother mentioned the name of a gay magazine. We’d found a copy in one of mum’s hoarding piles a few years ago. “Or The Gay Times. Take your pick.”
Kieran arched an eyebrow, a challenge flashing in his eyes. "We handle ourselves. Do you?"
"I've been known to dabble—in basketball that is. Not with other dudes," Adam replied with a smirk.
The testosterone in the air suddenly skyrocketed.
"Good to know," Kieran said, gesturing toward the hoop. "By all means, Michael Jordan, join us."
"Thought you'd never ask." Adam was already moving, pulling his t-shirt off over his head in one fluid motion. As his toned, tattooed back was revealed, Weston nudged Tanner in the ribs. Boy-code for we’ve got competition.
"Missed you today," Kieran murmured, stepping closer the moment Adam was out of earshot.
My heart fluttered, a sudden wave of shyness hitting me. I looked past his shoulder to where Adam had already effortlessly snatched the ball from Weston. "Will he be okay out there?"
"Please. Look at the fucking size of him, Amelie.
He can handle himself," Kieran said. His attention drifted from the game straight back to me.
Kieran then stepped into my space, his thumb trailing a slow, burning line across my collarbone.
"Are you staying to watch? You look tired." Watch? Interesting how I wasn’t invited to play. Chauvinist. I’d told him I could shoot hoops the first time we met.
Kieran’s touch kept sparks shooting straight down my spine. "Are the others back?"
"Yeah. Maisy and Jessa are doing hair, and Vanessa and Cameron are in the kitchen."
"Okay. I need to talk to my aunt first," I said, though my body didn't want to move away from his hand.
Kieran lowered his fingers, his smirk returning. "You do that. Then get your pretty arse back out here to watch. You can see me completely thrash your brother." He ended the promise with a slow, devastating wink.
I let out a soft laugh, stepping even closer to him. "Maybe I'll join the game instead. Show you how a real professional does it."
Kieran’s entire face lit up, his eyes darkening with sudden interest. "Oh, really? Where has all this spirit suddenly come from?"
I placed my palm flat against his bare, warm, sweat-covered chest. The muscle contracted under my hand. I applied just enough pressure to force him back a step. "It was always there, Rook. I just needed the right person to unleash it."
His breath hitched slightly. "Please tell me that’s me."
I pressed harder, forcing him back another step, then slipped right past him with a confident stride. "Let’s see, shall we?" I tossed over my shoulder.
I didn't look back as I walked through the patio doors, but I could feel his eyes burning into my skin the entire way inside.
Vanessa practically tackled me with a hug the second I crossed the kitchen threshold, showering me with questions about Sophie. I slid onto a stool next to her and Cameron and told them all about the visit and my thoughts about Sophie staying where she was—for the time being, anyway.
The kitchen then became crazy—Maisy burst in for snacks, and Jessa drifted in midway, catching the tail end of my sentence and throwing in her opinion on the matter. Outside, the boys’ shouting drifted through the open windows. Eventually, we all went outside.
Cameron fired up the BBQ, triggering a loud cheer from the makeshift basketball court.
The game was getting more reckless by the minute as the players started to play to their audience.
The boys were showing off and playing dirty, but the breathless laughter following every aggressive tackle proved they loved it.
At one point, Kieran scooped Maisy into the air so she could slam-dunk the ball.
I laughed as she immediately wrinkled her nose at his sweaty chest, prompting him to chuckle and set her back down.
The sun dipped low, painting the sky in deep amber and violet.
It was a picture-perfect view. Everyone was getting along.
Even Cameron took a few shots when Kieran hurled the ball his way, with more force than necessary, but still.
Once the burgers were ready, the guys cracked open a few beers.
I stuck to water, perfectly content due to school the following day.
My eyes kept tracking back to the court. Adam and Kieran were completely in sync, sparking off each other’s energy in a way that felt surprisingly genuine. Lincoln, on the other hand, was someplace else. He missed three shots in a row while staring at his phone before finally throwing in the towel.
When Lincoln collapsed onto a lounger, I figured that was my cue. Exhaustion was finally catching up to me, just like Kieran had said earlier. I was halfway through murmuring a goodnight to Jessa when a sudden heavy thud sounded at my feet.
The basketball rolled against my foot.
I scooped it up. The familiar, pebbled leather beneath my palms instantly unlocked a wave of memories—years of shooting hoops in the garden with Adam.
Across the court, the boys started waving their hands, calling for the ball. Only Adam stood perfectly still. He slowly nodded his head, a competitive smirk playing on his lips.
Shoot it, Ames.
The unspoken challenge hung in the air. Standing right by the loungers, I was at the farthest distance I had ever attempted to shoot. I closed my eyes, took one grounding breath, and opened them. I bounced the ball once against the patio. Caught it. Locked eyes with the rim. And threw.
The ball arced beautifully through the twilight, snapping cleanly through the net without even grazing the rim.
The garden erupted. A chaotic chorus of "What the hell?", "Holy shit," and "No way, bro," shattered the quiet evening.
"Trick shot!" Kieran’s voice boomed over the noise. He caught the ball on the rebound, spinning it casually on one finger. His gaze locked onto mine, burning with a sudden, sharp intensity. He took a deliberate step closer, his eyes raking over me with a challenging, lazy smile. "She got lucky."
I didn't back down. I raised a single eyebrow, holding his stare as he fired the ball back to me. I caught it flush against my chest, the heat from his hands still radiating off the leather.
Instead of playing his game, I turned on my heel to walk inside. I had already calculated the distance, the slight breeze, and the angle in my head.
I paused, glancing over my shoulder. Kieran was watching my every move, completely transfixed.
"This is how it’s done," I murmured, holding his gaze for one heavy, breathless second.
Before he could reply, I snapped my wrists and launched the ball completely backwards over my head without looking.
I didn't wait to watch it in the air. I just kept walking toward the house, a smirk tugging at my lips as the deafening explosion of cheers and Kieran's stunned laughter behind me confirmed it went straight through the net.
As I said, that’s how it’s done.
KIERAN
Fuck me, how I didn’t run after Amelie, throw her over my shoulder and take her to my room was a miracle.
The way she had challenged me was as sexy as fuck.
When she scored the first basket, my dick twitched, but the second, I was full mast in a heartbeat.
Thankfully, my shorts were baggy, which kept that shit from my stepmother and the girls.
I didn’t give a crap what the boys thought.
We saw each other's wood all the time; it was natural and something to be proud of. Not that I would have wanted Amelie’s brother to know his sister just gave me a stonking hard on by shooting hoops.
I forced myself to shake hands with Adam. Every muscle in my jaw clamped tight. Having him in my house still made my blood boil, but I had to pick my battles.
Once the girls disappeared upstairs for showers, the patio fell dead silent with just my father and me.
I pulled a pre-rolled joint from my shorts.
It was damp, possibly from sweat, but it lit on the third go.
I didn’t look at Cameron. I didn’t care that he was watching me, and for once, he kept his mouth shut about my mother.
We exchanged empty, careful words. The tension between us was thick enough to choke on, but we kept it civil.
It was always like that right after the anniversary. My mother's death was the only thing quiet enough to force a temporary truce, and our war returned to zero. We would then spend the next twelve months slowly burning that bridge to the ground again.
Later that night, I walked past Amelie’s closed door. My knuckles hovered an inch from the wood. I wanted to knock so badly it ached, but the glowing clock on my phone stopped me.