What are you afraid of?

It’s a question I won’t ask. Not when it would invite her to turn it back on me. I don’t want to talk about my fears any further than I did in the kitchen. Not tonight. Not when she’s so close and soon she’ll be so damn far away. I didn’t anticipate it would bother me so much, but the realization eats away at my gut. “That’s good,” I say. “Because you owe me a few.”

She blinks. “What do I owe you?”

“Words.”

“Must you speak in riddles?”

“Your secret. I told you mine, so now it’s your turn.”

Her face pales, and I wonder just how innocent she is that she doesn’t want to talk about it. “You already guessed it. I’m gonna go get dressed.”

She turns toward her room, and I grab her wrist to stop her. “We can do this one of two ways,” I say, and she slowly turns back to face me. “You can just tell me, which would be fair, since that was our deal. Or”—I lift the beer I grabbed from the fridge—“we can play a game.”

She studies the bottle. “What kind of game?”

“Never Have I Ever.”

She snorts and folds her arms. “Seriously? As I mentioned a minute ago, I’m not twelve anymore.”

I turn up the palm of my free hand, moving it up and down opposite the beer in the other hand, as if I’m weighing them against each other. “Your choice.”

“Fine, the game, but I’m getting dressed first.”

“If you must,” I say. I can’t stop grinning. Damn it. She does that to me.

I wait in the hall while she disappears into her bedroom, my eyes fixed on the door the whole time. Carter would definitely kick my ass if he knew I was about to play a drinking game with his little sister. But it’s not like we’re playing with tequila. One beer split between the two of us can’t get me in too much trouble. That said, if she’s as innocent as she claims, I’ll be the one doing most of the drinking.

A minute later, and the door swings open. Shay’s gotten dressed, but she’s not in her normal clothes. She’s wearing pajamas. These aren’t the kind of pajamas that are meant to seduce—they’re gray cotton. A long-sleeved T-shirt with a lace cutout down each arm, and matching shorts that show just enough leg to remind me there’s more that I want to see.

She catches me looking and scowls. “My clothes smelled like smoke from the bonfire, and the only other outfit I have with me is my work uniform for tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“I know.” She frowns. “You’re weird tonight.”