Seriously. I was tired. College was supposed to be different, more normal for us all. Yeah, I knew Bren was restless. She was feeling out of sorts from the group, but that was a stage. She’d find her niche. We’d find ours, and no matter what, no one was moving forward without the others. Four years. I wanted four years of being a student, no major brawls, no drug dealers fucking up my sister, no moments where I almost commit murder, and certainly no administration and crooked fucking cops arresting Bren. And that was all just the tip of the iceberg of our stuff.

Now this shit?

When would it be over? When would we be steady again? Even though I hadn’t had her at that time, a part of me missed the early days of just boozing it up with Jordan and Zellman, maybe taking the edge off with a girl—any girl—before I went in search of Bren. It was always Bren. I needed those girls, because if I hadn’t, I would’ve needed Bren too much. They took off the edge for what I felt for her.

We moved at the right time for her, and that was my place. I always went by her timetable, about what she was ready for or what she wasn’t. I knew when to push, when to hold back, when to launch forward, when to pick at her, when to piss her off, when to tickle her, when to love her, and when to make her melt. I knew Bren more than I knew myself, and staring at her, I already knew there was no way we weren’t wading into this thing, neck fucking deep.

“Why?”

That shadow faded and a spark replaced it.

Oh yeah. She was lighting up for me already.

She wanted this fight. This was how Bren made sense of the world, where she was comfortable. This was her world and hell, her brother knew what he was doing when he sent those bounty hunters her way. Because they hadn’t just happened to be in Cain’s hospital the same time as Bren’s shift. The guy got his wound in another town over, one that had a better hospital. Channing sent them there. He probably knew Bren would suffocate slowly at the job she had.

Fucker. He was smart.

And why hadn’t I thought about it?

Honestly? Was I jealous because he thought ahead for her and I hadn’t?

Pathetic. Me.

But she hadn’t answered me. I scowled. “Answer me, Bren.”

“What?”

“Why do you want to get involved with this? What are we supposed to even do?”