I drop my hand, listening to their panting and moaning. Tears well again, but I let them fall without another sob.

I wish he was alone. He’d probably let me crawl into bed with him tonight, if I wanted. Like a big brother keeping the wolves at bay, because I had a scary dream.

I wouldn’t try, even if he were alone, but…

It’s a nice little fantasy.

Warm.

Safe.

Comfort.

Noah’s like that.

I stand up and lean my forehead into the wall, listening to the boys make love to girls and the ache filling me up, because I’m alone in here, forgotten and… jealous. Why am I jealous?

I squeeze my eyes shut, the tears streaming down over my parched lips, and shake my head.

Walking over, I open my bedroom door and head into the hallway, the noise filling the house louder now. Girls giggle in Noah’s room as a cry echoes from above, followed by moaning, and I pass by, fog in my head as I slowly drift down the stairs.

The cool air hits my bare legs, but it’s a welcome relief as it eases my muscles. I should put a robe on, but I don’t give a shit. I have my first assignment for school due tomorrow that’s far from finished, and I should probably log back into Twitter to see if that girl made good on any of her threats, but I just can’t muster a care in the world about any of it tonight.

I walk through the dark living room, the fire from earlier now extinguished as the black hollow of the fireplace looms to my right, stained with soot. The clock chimes the hour, but I lose count as I head into the kitchen, trying to swallow through the dryness in my throat.

Filling up a glass of water, I lift it to my lips and take several gulps, swallowing fast and emptying the glass. I immediately fill it up again and tip my head back, drinking until I finally feel satisfied.

I stare out the window above the sink. In a matter of weeks, snow will cover the ground. The house will be quiet, no women for miles or months.

They’re like demons. How do they do it year after year?

How will I do it this year?

They’re not my parents. They engage me, and every time they do a flood of feelings I’m not used to navigating comes out and I do or say something stupid.

Or my body wants to respond in ways it shouldn’t.

I rinse out my glass and set it back in the dish rack, leaning against the sink ledge and gazing out the window, staring at nothing.

Locked up here for months with them, I’ll go crazy. They’ll drive me insane. Someone will end up dead.

Something sounding like keys jingle to my right, and I startle, jerking my head around.

Jake sits in the dark corner at the kitchen table, and I straighten, my heart hammering in my chest. He stares at me.

His finger is threaded through the ring of his car keys as he flips them and catches them in his fist with a beer bottle sitting nearby, and I take in his jeans, minus the shirt.

Heat rises to my cheeks, every inch of my visible skin suddenly feeling so much more exposed now as he watches me. I thought he was in his room.

He doesn’t look like he’s been in his room at all, though. He still has his work boots on.

I hold in my shiver, but the points of my breasts harden to rocks through my tank top, and I fold my arms over my chest. I can’t tell if he sees, but a moment later he rubs his finger over his lips.

“What…” I choke out and clear my throat. “What are you doing?”

The music turns on upstairs blasting “Devil in a Bottle,” but Jake just sits there, and I can see where Kaleb gets his silence. Not talking and not communicating are two different things.

I take a step over toward the island, shielding myself. “Where’s your…friend?” I ask softly.

“Home.”

The women all came from the race with us, so he must’ve had to take her back to town himself. Wonder what cut the night so short.

“Not in the mood?” I tease.

But instead of smiling it off, he cocks his head at me, something playing behind his eyes that makes my stomach drop a little.

He hasn’t gone off on me. Why? I’m down here half-dressed in my panties. Why isn’t he barking at me to get some clothes on? Or go to bed?

“I was hungry,” I explain, barely able to meet his eyes. “Are you?”

Again, he just sits there, his eyes on me and only me.

But he doesn’t say no, and he doesn’t tell me to go get dressed.

Tell me I’m acting up. Tell me to get my ass upstairs and into some pajamas.

But he doesn’t.

And I back up, my heart thumping but feeling bold as I turn for the fridge and pull out some eggs. I dare myself, sure that he’ll yell at me any second.

I push it further, walking around the island to get the pan, still waiting for him to tell me to get upstairs.

But he doesn’t, and my eyes burn. Maybe I’m picking a fight.

Or maybe I like to be looked at.

I don’t go upstairs, though.

Moving around the dark kitchen, I keep the lights off as I set the pan on the burner—frying up some butter as I crack and whisk eggs. I add some garlic and Creole seasoning, aware of his eyes on my back and on my every movement. I have no idea what my hair looks like after sleep and the fit I had afterward, but I love the way it feels hanging over my shoulders and down my back. Kind of like what someone touching me would feel like.

My light pink silk panties hug my ass, the bikini straps sitting just below my hips and leaving two inches of skin between them and my gray cami exposed. I reach up, putting the spices away as the muscles in my legs and ass flex, wanting him to see it.

“Why are you awake?” he asks in a raspy voice.

I scrape the eggs over the pan. “Who can sleep with all this noise going on?”

I might be able to sleep through Kaleb, but I definitely can’t sleep through Noah.

I look over at Jake as he rubs his thumb up and down one of the keys, Kaleb’s warm fury playing behind his eyes.

Their noise is different than Noah’s. It’s silent but deafening.

I drop my gaze again, heat spreading across my face as I traipse barefoot to the fridge once more and grab the cheese, grating a handful over the eggs and stirring as I turn off the heat. His eyes are boring into me. I can feel it, and every inch of my skin is alert. I squeeze my eyes shut for a split moment, warmth spreading low in my belly.

Some melted cheese gets on my fingers, and I hiss at the burn. Quickly, I lick it off my forefinger and suck it off my thumb, piling half the eggs on a plate for Jake.

“Here you go,” I only manage a whisper as I lift it up.

But he’s suddenly there, behind me. He takes the plate and sets it back down on the counter.

I freeze.

His chest covers my back, and I smell him like I did today when we fished, warm skin touching mine and tingles spreading down my arms and thighs, only now, I don’t think I’ll run away.

I want to feel this.

“Why’d you run from me today at the lake?” he asks.

I remain quiet.

But my skin hums, and all I can feel is him as the music pounds upstairs.

“Why did you run?”

I shake my head. I don’t know. I…

“Tiernan…” he says in a strangled whisper.

Like a regret. Like he knows exactly why I ran.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, after all,” he says behind me. “We’re not…good influences on a girl.”