Reid left for the game at one-forty.
I texted at two.
Sable: He’s gone.
Knox: Back door. Five minutes.
His house in daylight felt like a crime we were done pretending was accidental. He let me in and locked it. No hall. No jeans trick. He took me to the bedroom this time.
“If we’re doing this while he’s in a stadium,” Knox said, pulling my shirt off, “we do it in a bed so I can look at you when you remember you’re supposed to be my sister.”
I sat on his sheets. He stripped. I took him in my mouth first because I had given that hole away years ago and it was the one that didn’t feel like a stolen thing. He was thick on my tongue. Salt. The head dragged my throat. I hollowed my cheeks and worked him until spit shone on his shaft and his hand fisted in my hair. He pulled me off with a w
