C5 5

A minute later, and the door swings open. Shay’s gotten dressed, but she’s not in her normal clothes. She’s wearing pajamas. These aren’t the kind of pajamas that are meant to seduce—they’re gray cotton. A long-sleeved T-shirt with a lace cutout down each arm, and matching shorts that show just enough leg to remind me there’s more that I want to see.

She catches me looking and scowls. “My clothes smelled like smoke from the bonfire, and the only other outfit I have with me is my work uniform for tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“I know.” She frowns. “You’re weird tonight.”

“Nah, I’m weird every night. You’ve just forgotten because you barely ever see me anymore.”

“True.” She motions me to follow her, and when I freeze, she says, “I’m not going to jump you if you come into my room, weirdo.”

Damn shame.

I swallow hard and step inside “her” bedroom. This isn’t the Jacksons’ full-time home, but their vacation place. They rent out this cabin to tourists—a ten-year plan to get it paid off sooner, Carter told me—so it’s definitely not as personal as her room at home, but it is hers. As the only girl, she’s the one Jackson sibling to get a room of her own, and there are little decorative touches in here that show this room is truly Shay’s. The bookshelf overflowing with well-loved paperbacks, the map of Paris that hangs over the queen-sized bed, and the glasses that sit on the bedside table—no doubt for reading after she takes her contacts out.

I remember when she got glasses for the first time. She was so excited. But then some jerk at school teased her about them, and she came home with them tucked into her backpack and told her mom she wouldn’t wear them anymore. She lost that fight, of course, and wore glasses until her mom relented and let her get contacts when she started middle school.

“I can’t keep much here,” she says as I look around. “We still rent it out sometimes. Less now, though.”

“Carter used to be jealous that you got your own room.”

She shrugs. “Well, I used to be jealous that my brothers had each other and I didn’t have a single sister.”

“And now?”

She sweeps her hair over one shoulder and starts braiding the wet locks. “Now I’m grateful to be the only girl. I get along better with boys than I do with girls anyway.” Her fingers work efficiently, and she ties off the braid at the end.

“Maybe that would be different if you had sisters.”

“Maybe, but I think my family is perfect just the way it is.” She makes a face and seems to rethink her words. “No, not perfect at all. Just perfect for me, I guess.”

A pang slices through my chest. Jealousy. Their family is incredible, and somehow they all know it. I don’t have any siblings—none that I know of, at least, though there’s no telling how many kids my father has brought into this world and walked away from. I don’t even have a dad who gives a shit. Just Mom, and I’m grateful for her every day. Mom and I are partners; the Jacksons are a team. When life feels like a constant blitz from the defense, it’s hard not to be jealous of the people who are making plays with a solid O-line—even when your partner is the best in the game.

“What are you thinking about?” Shay asks.

I shake my head. “Just how lucky you all are.” I let out a breath. “And how much I hate my father.”

Shay’s expression turns sad. “Have you talked to him?”

“Oh, yeah. He was watching the draft and called right away.”

Anger flashes in her eyes. “Of course he did.”

“‘Congratulations, son,’” I say in my mocking impression of my father’s voice. “‘I knew you could do it. Aren’t you glad you got my athleticism and not your mother’s? Now let me talk out my ass about NFL contracts like I know anything at all.’”

“Fucker.” Shay’s uncharacteristic curse makes me smile.

“Exactly.”

“Did he ask for money?”

“Not yet. I’m sure he will. But I’ve trained my whole life to tell him no, just like he told Mom no when she asked for help.”

Her fingers brush mine, and I look down to see her taking the beer from my hand. She takes a long drink from it, her throat bobbing as she swallows, then hands the bottle to me. “To knowing when to say no.”

I take a sip and nod before holding up the bottle. It’s nearly half drained. “We don’t have much to work with here.”

She shrugs. “You’d better make good use of your turns, then.”

“So we’re playing that we take turns saying something and drink if we’ve done it?”

She nods. “Which is why I had to drink so much to start. That beer is pretty much all yours.”

“We’ll see about that.” I smile and lift it to my lips. I imagined us sitting on the floor, face to face as we took turns, but this is better. Standing, I can be closer to her. “Never have I ever celebrated Father’s Day with my dad.”

She snags the beer from my hand. “That’s cheap.” She takes a sip then studies me for a long beat before saying, “Never have I ever had sex.”

Cutting right to the chase. “There’s no rush, Shay. Seriously. Don’t let anyone make you feel like—”

She clears her throat and presses the cold bottle into my hand. “Drink.”

“Right.” I take a sip, mindful of keeping it small so we can keep this going. “Never have I ever had a crush on a brother’s friend.”

“You don’t have any brothers!”

I shrug. “I don’t make the rules.”

She takes a drink.

She has five brothers, four of them older than her. The possibilities are endless, but there’s only one possibility I’m interested in hearing her confess to. “Who?”

She laughs. “That is not how this game is played, cheater.” She taps a finger to her lips. “Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping.”

“Seriously? Your family owns a house on a lake, and you haven’t even once?”

She makes a face. “With my brothers? Hard pass.” She hands the beer back to me.

“Fine.” I watch her over the bottle as I tilt it to my lips and swallow. “Never have I ever gotten Shay off with my hand.”

She folds her arms, all smugness, until the logic of my statement sinks in and red blossoms in her cheeks. “Are you seriously asking me if I have masturbated?”