My brother steps inside the house with a heavy sigh. Not an I'm tired sigh or even damn, it's been a long day.

That sigh is pure what the fuck did you do now?

"Kay said something happened." He runs his hand through his dark hair. That I'm so beyond tired of your shit gesture.

No. That's his thing.

I think.

I can't read him as well as I used to.

I bite my tongue to keep from blurting out a defensive answer. I need tact. I need to include just enough of the truth to make this plausible. "It's not a big deal."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You can see that."

He shakes his head. "You don't give me enough credit."

"I give you too much credit."

He moves into the kitchen and grabs something from a high shelf. "I only have half an hour, Em."

"We need to find a new place."

"Why?" He pulls open the freezer door. Places exactly two ice cubes in his glass. But he doesn't go for the whiskey the way he usually does. He fills the glass with water. "What did you do?"

"Maybe your angel did something."

He steps into the main room and shoots me a really look.

Yeah, that's not exactly a believable argument. Kaylee, my roommate slash best friend, is Brendon's girlfriend. And she really is an angel. Straight As. Perfect work attendance. Closet full of cardigans.

It's weird, him dating her.

Especially since he's my dad as much as he's my brother—our parents died when I was a kid.

It's bullshit, that he still acts all my house, my rules when he's dating a girl two months younger than I am.

But that isn't changing in the next half an hour.

Convincing Brendon this is normal is a bigger concern.

No more defensiveness.

"Management has been giving us attitude about the noise complaints." I sell my story with all the conviction I can muster.

He stares back at me.

"They didn't warn us. It was suddenly 'oh, you're playing your music too loud. You're throwing too many parties.'"

Brendon's brow furrows, but he presses on. He motions to the Bluetooth speaker on the table, the one blasting Bayside. "This the shit you've been playing?"

"If you want me to turn it down, just ask."

He moves to the table and hits the pause button.

The room falls silent.

Way too silent.

I can hear the hum of the refrigerator.

The cars outside.

Laughter.

Footsteps.

Waves.

Wind.

The noise isn't so bad.

But the thoughts that are suddenly loud enough?

I can't stomach that.

Brendon takes another step toward me. "What did you do, Em?"

"I just told you."

"There's no way you're being asked to leave because you have bad taste in music."

"Your girlfriend has the same taste."

He motions kinda.

I fight my smile.

He's teasing me.

Yeah, he's digging for holes in my story like an expert police interrogator.

But he's doing it because he cares.

He wants this to be easy.

If I make it easy, he'll believe me.

"I threw a few too many parties. Pissed off too many neighbors. Technically, we can stay. But I don't want to fight management." I press my lips into a smile. But that's not right. A frown is closer.

His dark eyes bore into mine.

They're so much like Mom's eyes.

Like mine.

"You threw two parties last year," he says.

"That you know about." I shrug as if this isn't a big deal.

His stare intensifies.

It's a classic Brendon stare. I know best. I know everything. I'm waiting for you to figure it out.

But he doesn't have time today.

He has to pick up Kaylee and fly to New Jersey.

He finishes his glass of water and sets it on the table. "What's your plan?"

"I'll find a new place. Kay can check it out when you're back."

"Until then?"

"I'll stay here for a while."

"It's that bad?"

"Yeah." It's worse. I cross my fingers behind my back. Pray he'll accept this as being about the eardrum blasting volume of my music and nothing else. "I just have to get my stuff. I… uh… I'll do it tomorrow."

"You okay?"

"Great." I try to smile. Fail. Fuck. I'm giving too much away. And I can't. I can't talk about this. I can't even think about it.

"Em, what happened?"

"I told you. The super is a dick. And I want to stay here." I hug my text book to my chest. "Go. Finish packing. Pick up your angel. Join the mile high club. I have to study."

"All right."

Once again, he stares through me.

He waits for me to break.

He's good at it. Usually.

But this time, I'm sticking with my cover story.

The super is a dick about music. Period. The end.

If Brendon finds out…

That ends someplace ugly.

"Does Kay know what really happened?" he asks.

"I told you what really happened."

He folds his arms.

"Don't put this on her." I swallow hard. She doesn't know either. She suspects, sure, but she doesn't know.

"Em…" His voice gets soft. Caring. He wants to know. To make sure nothing bad happened.

His concern means a lot.

Really, it does.

But I can't take it today.

I can barely stomach this.

Two more minutes of selling this story.

Then I can lock myself in my room.

Scream as loudly as I want.

Run as far away from this as I want.

He moves closer. "You promise you're okay?"

"Yeah." I force a smile. "I'm good. Really."

"I told Hunter he could stay here. But—"

No. It's good. I've known Hunter a long time. He's a troublemaker yeah, but he's always looked out for me. "I'll cook. He'll clean."

"You sure?" Concern drips into his voice.

It's weird. How can he trust his friend to stay here but not trust him alone with me?

Either he's more over-protective than I thought.

Or there's something about Hunter I don't know.

"Go easy on him," Brendon says.

I raise a brow. "Easy how?"

"Don't fuck with him."

"Okay." I'm not promising that. Not if Hunter is anything like he was at Brendon's birthday party. All drunk and difficult and teasing.

"Don't fuck him."

"What?" Where the hell did that come from?

"He's not in the headspace for it."

"Are you his shrink?"

"Trust me for once."

Okay…

"He used to babysit you." He crosses to the stairs.

"No one ever babysat me."

"Still. He's almost ten years older."

"Am I supposed to stay away for him or for me?"

"Just be his friend."

There is something up.

But I'm not going to get greedy and dig.

I sold Brendon my story. That's good enough for tonight.

Right on cue, the front door opens.

Hunter steps inside with a takeout bag curled under his arm. His blue eyes flit from Brendon to me.

"What did you get?" I turn to Hunter. Ignore my brother's stare.

"Glass noodles and green curry," Hunter says.

"Thanks." I meant Italian pasta, but noodles are noodles.

"You bought her dinner?" Brendon asks.

Hunter nods.

"I got that." My brother reaches for his wallet.

Hunter shakes his head. "No way in hell."

Brendon nods fair enough. "Em is gonna stay here for a while."

Concern fills Hunter's blue eyes. "Should I—"

"No. She needs someone around to look out for her." Brendon turns back to me.

"What about Hunter?" I mean, he's not in the headspace for casual sex. And I'm not supposed to fuck with him. "Should I look out for him too?"

"Yeah." Brendon's voice is serious. "You should. You good for that?"

"Oh?" I bite my lip.

"Yeah." Brendon looks between us. "Keep each other honest."

"Sure." I offer Hunter my best awesome that we're roomies smile. It's not good. It's more of an oh my God, I saw you naked an hour ago blush.

He smiles back. Drops the bag on the kitchen table. "I'm gonna shower."

"But you—" I zip my lips. No commentary on his recent shower. No need to put that idea in Brendon's head.

"Start without me." Hunter motions to the food then crosses the living room and moves up the stairs.

Brendon waits until the bathroom door shuts to move close enough to whisper. "Seriously, Em. Don't."

"Don't what?"

"I saw the look." His gaze flits to the upstairs. "Don't fuck with him. He's been through a lot."

"A lot meaning…"

"I won't ask about the apartment again," he says.

He doesn't have to add don't ask what the deal is with Hunter.

I get the message loud and clear.

The tortured bad boy has a secret.

And it's none of my business.