Reaper's Fall

Oh God. It was already way too late.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demanded, clutching the covers to my chest. “Have you lost your minds?”

“Dad and London got married!” Kit shouted, eyes wide. A grim-faced Jessica nodded, confirming the declaration.

“Married? But they were planning a wedding for December . . .”

“Dad said he didn’t trust me and Em with a bachelorette party,” Kit spat out. “We made a huge mistake by asking if we could use The Line—that tipped him off. He says he and London didn’t want any fuss, so they just went down to the courthouse and got a license. They did it this morning, at the wedding chapel. Nobody was there. Em’s in another state.”

“I cannot believe her,” Jess added. “Loni had no right to do this without us—so irresponsible and selfish. She was only thinking about herself.”

Oh, seriously? Now Jessica was lecturing people about responsibility? That was ridiculous on too many different levels to count.

“That’s unfair,” I insisted, even though I was a little miffed, too—I’d been looking forward to the whole bridesmaid thing. “Loni is always taking care of other people. She works all the time, she puts up with our shit . . . she’s already done the whole wedding thing once and it didn’t end well. We can’t blame her for wanting to take care of it and move on.”

“Of course you’d take her side,” Jess snapped. “You’ve always taken her side. I haven’t forgotten that you’re the one who ratted me out to her last summer. If it wasn’t for my fight with Loni, I wouldn’t have run off to California and maybe—”

I sat up, narrowing my eyes at her.

“You’ve got one hell of a nerve, trying to blame me for that,” I said coldly. “It’s not my fault that you . . .”

My voice trailed off as I realized they were both staring at me. What? A breeze hit my bare nipple, and I realized I’d let go of the blanket.

Well, wasn’t that just craptastic.

“You were on the phone with Painter, weren’t you?” Kit asked, eyes going from angry to speculative to flat-out dirty in a matter of seconds. How did she do that? “Oh my God, look at her blushing! You were having phone sex when we came in here!”

“Phone sex!” Jess screeched, completely forgetting her rant. “How slutty is that! I’m so proud of you—first you’re fucking him in the shower and now you’re getting off over the phone. For the record, I still don’t think he’s a good choi—”

“Wait, you fucked Painter in the shower?” Kit asked. I groped for the blanket, wondering what I’d done to deserve this torment. “So does that mean you’re together now?”

I shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted, frowning. “He’s busy doing stuff for the club somewhere, but we’re exclusive. At least, that’s what we agreed before he left.”

Kit frowned, sitting down next to me.

“Painter’s not really good at the whole exclusivity thing,” she said. “I know I warned you off him, but that’s obviously a moot point and I want you to have fun . . . still, you need to be careful. You can’t take him seriously.”

Great, now Kit felt qualified to lecture me, too.

“You know, I’m really tired of everyone telling me what to do all the time,” I announced, not bothering to hide my anger and frustration. Kit pulled back, eyes wide. I glared at her. “You need to learn some boundaries. Both of you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything—”

“You push into my bedroom without knocking, you’re telling me who I can sleep with, and you’re even pissed at Loni and Reese for getting married. It’s their wedding, not yours, and I totally understand why they didn’t tell you. You couldn’t just be happy for them. No, you had to try and force them into things they didn’t want. No wonder they got married by themselves!”

Jessica was inching away, mouth open.

“I’m sorry, Mel.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “Just maybe try to think about how other people feel once in a while. Both of you. I’m sick of it. And that was a private call, which means it’s none of your damned business who I’m talking to, or why.”

Kit looked down. “You’re right. We should’ve knocked.”

I couldn’t help but notice the apology didn’t cover her attempted lecture or acknowledge that perhaps her father had a right to make his own decisions. That was his problem, though—I’d already said my piece.

“We’ll be downstairs,” Jess said. “And you should probably get a lock for your door . . . especially if you’re going to be having sex in here. Realistically, we both know I’m going to forget to knock the next time I get all excited.”

Music burst out of Kit’s phone and she grabbed it, looking down.

“It’s Em,” she said, shooting me a furtive glance. “Let’s go, Jess. We have plans to make. She’s already started driving over from Portland and we have a lot to get done before she reaches Coeur d’Alene.”

“You’re throwing a party, aren’t you?” I asked. Kit had the grace to look guilty.

“A surprise bachelorette party,” she admitted. “Tonight. I’m sorry. I know what you said about boundaries is probably true, but there’s no way Em and I can let this pass. We have to welcome London to the family right. It’s our job.”