Chipper’s Range Rover acts as the sun after a storm. I can’t get downstairs fast enough once I see it turn the corner. Jane, Paige, and Vickie sit in the living room with their army of Chihuahuas plus a cat that spends hours every night scratching at my door since I moved in. They watch TV—even the furballs stare at the flashing screen—and ignore my escape from the house.

Hurrying into the increasingly chilly evening, I walk straight to Chipper’s car without thinking to put on any false airs. I’m not fooling him anyway. Not after last night.

Just as I remember, Chipper looks amazing. When he steps out of his SUV, I realize he’s changed his clothes from this morning. Now wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and black pants, he feels like an unrealistic dream. I’m nowhere near as perfect in my gray knit sweater and blue jeans. I wonder if I should have gotten the new shirt like I planned. Then again, I still can’t figure out which one was better.

“You look happy to see me,” he says, sounding not even a little surprised.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“If I were you, I’d be fucking ecstatic, but I don’t know if you’re as in touch with your good luck as I would be in your situation.”

“What?”

“Never mind. You look gorgeous, by the way. Sober and awake is a very fucking hot look on you.”

“Thank you. I went shopping,” I blurt out.

“I know,” he says, opening the passenger door for me. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

“No,” I mutter and climb into the SUV. Frowning, I realize what he’s implying. “Wait, did you follow me?”

Chipper blocks the doorway and smiles. “Of course not, Tatum. I have people for that.”

“Did you have me followed because you don’t trust me or because you’re protecting me?”

“Both.”

“Why wouldn’t you trust me?”

“I don’t know you, and I couldn’t have you running off to challenge Howler again.”

“You took my gun,” I whisper.

“What if you possessed an entire arsenal in your suitcase?”

Rolling my eyes, I sense Chipper’s messing with me. He shuts the door and walks around the front to the driver’s side. Joining me in the SUV, he chuckles.

“What?” I ask when he only laughs.

“You were at Walmart for three hours and bought nothing.”

“I’m indecisive.”

“I’m not. I see what I want and bam!” he says, slapping his hands together and startling me. “I take it.”

“What if the thing you want belongs to someone else?”

“I steal it.”

“What if the thing doesn’t want you to take it?”

“I beat it over the head with an old lady’s purse until it submits.”

Fighting a smile, I ask, “Why an old lady’s purse?”

“They’re heavy. I got bitch-slapped by a geriatric skank years ago, and I still have nightmares.”

Grinning, I adjust in the leather seat to get a better look at Chipper. “I feel like you’re lying.”

“You feel that, do you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t lie. When someone is wealthy, they can tell the truth at all times, and no one will punish them.”

“That also sounds like a lie.”

“It probably is. I can’t keep track of what I’m saying most days,” he says, pulling away from the curb.

I don’t know what to say, but I’m certain I don’t want to talk about me. “What’s it like being a twin?”

“It’s great. I recommend it to everyone.”

“Do people treat you differently?”

“A little, but non-identical twins don’t have it as difficult as those freaky same-y ones do.”

“So you weren’t dressed alike?”

Chipper gives me a grin. “Mom color coordinated us for special occasions when we were younger. Oh, and Cricket went through a period where she dressed as a boy, so people thought we were brothers. That didn’t last long, though.”

“Do you look much alike?”

“My phone is in the cup holder. Check the photos to see Cricket and the mini-twins.”

“She has twins too?” I ask, never really clear on when and how twins run in a family.

“Boy and girl twins too. Apparently, she craps out more than one egg like our mother. We call them the mini-twins. Cricket and I are the OG twins.”

Taking his phone, I search the photos and immediately find dozens of a small boy and girl. Plus, a beautiful brunette woman with rich brown eyes is in many of the pictures.

“Is this Cricket?” I ask when he stops at a light.

“Yep,” he says, leaning over to swipe the photos until he finds one of Cricket, her kids, and a sexy, tattooed man. “That’s her husband, Poet,” he says and swipes the screen before saying, “This is my younger brother, Cap.”

The light changes and Chipper leans back into his seat. “There should be plenty of pictures of my mom and dad too.”

I swipe a few photos and then stop on a picture of his mother. Her dark eyes and blonde hair match Chipper’s. I smile at how much he looks like his mom.

“Your brother and dad look a lot alike,” I say, still smiling.

“Technically, Hayes is Cricket and my stepfather, but I like him better than my biological father who I never had much of a relationship with. So I claim Hayes as my father, but Cap is his bio kid which is why they look the fucking same.”

“Was your bio dad mean to you?”

“No. He’s just a dull little dweeb who never wanted my sister and me. I don’t care about him, and I doubt he cares about me either. We have a perfect relationship.”

Nodding at his reasoning, I can’t get over how relaxed Chipper remains. Last night, he never lost his temper or cool either. I’ve waited all day to return to the chilled vibe of this man, and I can’t deny it feels great.

“What are Cricket’s babies’ names?”

“Murphy is the boy. Minnow is the girl. Their fifth birthdays are in December.”

“Minnow?” I ask. “Like a fish?”

“No, like the boat.”

“What boat?”

“The one from ‘Gilligan’s Island.’”

Frowning, I remember hearing of the show but never knew the plot. “I didn’t see it.”

“Oh, well, you’re not missing much. Poet and Cricket have a weird love affair with the show. It’s their thing, but I’m not a fan of it personally.”

I feel a little awkward as if not knowing about an old show puts me at odds with his family. Now his sister will hate me. Or I could just watch the show and then I’d be in the know. Or I could stop worrying about dumb stuff long enough to enjoy my time with Chipper. Of course, should I really enjoy anything when my mom’s dead? Would she want me to swoon over Chipper? I think she would, but I don’t know. Every question feels unanswerable.

Before I fully panic at my current situation, I inhale Chipper’s clean scent. More than just soap, I smell the unmistakable rawness of a man. I glance at Chipper and take notice of his neatly trimmed beard. I wonder what it feels like. I even lift my hand to touch his face before regaining my senses.

What message do I want to send to Chipper? That I’m a hot-to-trot harlot he can take home and plow? No, I’d never pull that off, and I’m scared of sex anyway. I bet it hurts especially with a large man like Chipper. I’m probably the only woman in the world who prays for a tiny dick.

Ugh, I should not have thought of that word. Now I imagine Chipper naked, and my cheeks are flushed red. He’ll figure out what I’m thinking. How could he not?

“Do you like orange chicken?” he asks rather than pointing out my tomato-colored cheeks.

“Sure,” I lie, having never tasted it. “Why?”

“I’m ordering it from Panda Express for dinner at Bonn’s. I said I would bring food so Ruby wouldn’t have to cook. Back in the day, I used to spend a lot of time with Bonn and Ruby, and they liked orange chicken. Their son, Adric, does too. He’s your nephew which kills me since he’s not that much younger than you.”

“Oh,” is all I can muster.

I’ve never eaten Chinese food, not even from a fast food place like Panda Express. I don’t know if I’ll like it or if it’ll make me puke. I have a sensitive stomach and puke easily. Chipper learned this fact last night after I tried to be badass by drinking whiskey. I can’t puke again tonight, or he’ll think I’m a killjoy.

Chipper pulls into the Panda Express parking lot and then reaches over to take his phone still in my hands. “I’ll order and then go inside to pick it up.”

“How old are you?” I ask, sounding half-asleep because my throat is so dry.

“Twenty-six. You?”

“I turned twenty-one in May.”

Without looking away from his phone as he types, Chipper smiles. “Cricket was your age when she got knocked up by Poet.”

I imagine his sister skating confidently through life. A wife and mother, she doesn’t freak out over choosing shirts. Then again, her beautiful mother is alive and well while mine died too young. Soon, I’ll meet Chipper’s family, and I know they’ll hate me.

“Quit it,” I mutter to myself when Chipper walks inside to pick up the already packed food. “Think happy thoughts.”

Playing the song “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” in my head, I close my eyes and think positive thoughts. I’m eating new food and meeting new people. I have this super handsome man interested in me, and he’s been really sweet and hasn’t tried to stick his probably huge dick in my body. Everything is great, and I’m not freaking out at all.

Once Chipper returns, I open my eyes for the short drive to Bonn’s brick-front house. My half brother lives in a nice neighborhood with two newer cars in the drive. He’s probably handsome and smart. His wife is likely beautiful and smart. What will they think of me in my five-year-old shirt and beat-up sneakers?

“Why did I agree to come here?” I scream in my head. The happy song gone now, I’m in full-blown hysterical, fight-or-flight mode.

“I can’t go inside,” I cry as the panic attack tightens around me. “I can’t. No. I can’t. I don’t know. I want to stay here with you. I want to stay with you. Here with you. No. I can’t.”

The panic eats away everything around me. My past is gone. The world outside the SUV is gone. I can see nothing beyond Chipper, and even the image of his strong, handsome face fades around the edges. I’m about to pass out. I know the darkness is coming, and there’s nothing I can do to free myself.