Trish asks, “You didn’t do this for our date, Noah?”

My brother kneels beside her. I hadn’t noticed he was only in his boxer briefs with a T-shirt thrown over him.

You know what? Fuck this. I go to Lark, cup her face, and whisper, “We can go to a hotel.”

Clasping her hands around my wrists, she whispers, “We don’t need to spend the money.”

“Money doesn’t matter.”

Her body bristles, though she’d lie if I asked her. With her eyes set on mine, her gaze starts to distance herself. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Money is determined to mess with us—it not mattering in my life and mattering too much in hers.

She swallows, but it’s heard under the murmurs of Noah trying to make this right with Trish.

It might be too late for me to do the same with my girlfriend. Lark’s eyes leave mine, stretching over my shoulder. When her gaze returns to me, she says, “We can hang out in your room or go back to mine.” She doesn’t sound upset, which is a relief.

Picking up her backpack, I lead her to my room, open the door, and set her bag inside. She walks in and now I’m the one who’s swallowing hard. The blinds are already open when she crosses the room and stands in front of the large window that frames downtown Beacon. It’s the same view from the living room, but it’s much quieter in here.

“Let me deal with my brother, and I’ll be back in.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Harbor. I never needed any of that.”

I told her I loved her a week after meeting her. I’d never said that to another girl I was dating. But I’d also never felt so cared for before by anyone other than my family. Her love, her care was different than all the other girls. I didn’t hear about it. I felt it, making me fall fast and hard for Lark.

But hearing how she cares for my family, specifically the brother who is currently on my shit list, while sacrificing her needs . . . She might have just convinced me to fuck her as requested, like she’s not a virgin. After that, I’ll give her the world if she’ll let me.

I kiss her and then close the door behind me.

My brother and Trish are in the other bedroom. I can hear their muffled voices and the sounds of an argument. When he walks out, fully dressed, I say, “I need to speak with you privately.”

“We’ll do it another time, Harbor.”

“No, we’re going to have this out now.”

Rolling his eyes, he leans into the room, and tells her he’ll be a minute. I walk to the window, trying to find the only place we can have this conversation that’s not between the two bedrooms. Keeping my voice down, I say, “This is fucked up, Noah, and you know it,” as soon as he reaches me.