Her easy laugh echoed through the kitchen, and Emmersyn leaned in closer. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s clock our hours and see who works harder, you, skating around for funsies, or me, working my ass off in a garden sweating my tits off.”

“First… funsies? And second…” I pointed my knife at the phone even though she couldn’t see. “Never talk to me about your tits again.”

“Sure, sure.” She was still laughing. My sister was a pain in the ass of the best kind. “So, you found Emmersyn I take it since I didn’t hear from you.”

“Yeah, and—”

I went to tell her we were on speaker, but she didn’t give me a chance because my sister, being the bulldozer she was, kept talking. “I know I’m asking a lot, but it was an emergency. Her fiancé’s a royal complete pain in the ass. I have her phone. He’s been calling my phone and hers since she didn’t come home yesterday.”

Fiancé?

Phone?

My gaze met Emmersyn’s, and that worry was back, turning her green eyes to forest green. She bit down on her bottom lip and her eyes came to mine.

“You’re on speakerphone, dumbass, and Emmersyn is right here. How about you let her tell me all the ugly shit going on in her life, would you?”

I could feel Heather’s flinch from a country away. “Sorry, Emmersyn. I thought you’d still be sleeping, and I needed to vent.”

“It’s okay.” Her smile returned, barely there, but better. “Your brother is making me breakfast. I uh… woke him up…”

“It’s fine,” I reiterated because Jesus. I was not the guy to be apologizing to.

“Kane doesn’t mind. He’s practically still on vacation.”

“First game is in two weeks,” I reminded her, although she knew. She always did. She had my games on her calendar the day the schedule came out.

“Pre-season,” she huffed. “Like it means anything. And you could sleep through your games and still kick ass.”

I shook my head, turned back to flip my eggs, and grabbed the toast from the toaster.

“Keep talking shit, and I’m hanging up and changing my number.”

“Liar,” she teased right back.

My sister kicked total ass, even if she was a pain in mine most of the time.

Her tone softened then as she asked, “How are you, honey?”

Clearly meant for Emmersyn, my part of the conversation most likely done, I slid the phone closer to her. “You can take that if you need it.”

“I’m okay,” she said, and her hands stayed cupped around her coffee mug. Eyes came to me before flicking back to the phone. “Sore. Tired. Is Lincoln really that mad?”

“Oh… he’s big mad. But I’m screenshotting everything and voice recording his voice mails to my phone.”

“What’s he saying?” Emmersyn’s voice trembled.

I bit my lip and gave her my back. If she didn’t want full privacy, I could at least give her the illusion of it.

Heather’s tinny voice through the phone sounded like she was trying not to rage out. “I’m not telling you. Not now, but I promise it’s for your own good, and I’m glad you got out of town.”