This is bullshit. I brought her into a room with me, and we slept together without having sex. Can’t say I’ve done that before with a woman. Isn’t that a relationship litmus? But the fact is, whenever she’s texting on that phone of hers, I’m always wondering who’s got her in a conversation frenzy. Maybe she’s right. Maybe revisiting to clarify any outstanding questions isn’t the worst idea. I’m not interested in anyone else. She spends her days around single college students.

With one last glance in the mirror, I swing the bathroom door open, prepared to have the talk. But she’s no longer in the bedroom.

I step onto the narrow balcony and find her sipping that little cup of coffee while she leans against the window frame, looking out at the swaying palms. With two long strides, I stand behind her. I brush a loose strand of hair off her cheek and gently tuck it behind her ear. I caress her hip, loving the smooth feel of silk beneath my fingers.

“I’m not interested in dating anyone else.” Her thick eyelashes flutter, and she tilts her head, angling it so she can fix me with her forest gaze again.

“What I stumble on is that Trevor is your close friend, and he believes you are.”

There’s no reason for me to keep my sister a secret. I simply keep family shit close to the vest. Always have, for as long as I can remember. Besides, mental illness isn’t something to flaunt in the military. My mother has never been officially diagnosed, and that probably helped my military career. And a sister with a drug addiction isn’t light conversation. Trevor might be like a brother, but we’ve never had a moment where it felt like the right time to unload something so heavy. Sure, Trevor has hinted that he thought I was dating someone in San Diego. In all fairness, Trevor suspects I’m sleeping with any woman who knows my name. Have never seen a reason to correct him. Those green eyes study me.

“Get dressed. There’s someone you need to meet.”

She does as I say, and it’s not until our shoes click against the marble foyer that she speaks.

“Have you heard from Jack? Is he back from the hospital with Sophia yet?”

“He’s moving her to a private care facility this morning. Flying in some specialists to review her bloodwork. Also a therapist with experience with kidnap victims.” He’s throwing his money at the problem. Not that I can blame him. If I were in his shoes, I’d spend money like crazy getting her the best medical care.

We step out into the bright California sun and are met with a sweet scent in the air and light chirps. It’s not until we’re in the car, driving out of the neighborhood, that she asks where we’re going.

“I’m taking you to meet someone.”

As we drive down the street that leads out of the neighborhood, Alex points at a white stucco mansion with a tile roof. It’s a gorgeous home, comparable to Jack’s, only from its position in the neighborhood, it’s clear it doesn’t back up to the ocean. That may be so, but given the size of the house and lot, it’s a safe bet the back yard features a stunning pool and resort-like atmosphere.